After The Break

by Andrea Joan

  “I won’t ask again. I’ll just shoot you in individual fucking body parts until you tell me.” Then I shoot him in the foot just so he knows I’m not fucking around. He screams again but this time I think he actually mumbles something I can’t make out. When I aim the gun to his knee, his voice suddenly becomes clearer.

  “Bathtub,” he sputters out. The bathtub?

  I pull him by his shirt collar, dragging this piece of shit further into the bathroom to make sure he doesn’t get away in case he’s lying to me. It’s not until I reach the bathtub that I wish he fucking had been.

  “Oh, god no. FUCK!” I drop Carl and shove the gun into the back of my pants before jumping into the tub and pulling Skylar out of the water. “Sky! Sky, baby, wake up!” I place her on the ground and lightly slap her face, trying to get her to open her eyes.

  “I found her this way. I was about to call the cops before you got here.”

  “You’re fucking lying, you sick fuck!”

  Come on, baby. Come on. Wake up.

  I put two fingers to the pulse point in her neck and get nothing. I don’t know how long she’s been in the water. It couldn’t have been too long. I wasn’t gone that long.

  “Sky, you wake the fuck up right now!” I shout at her. This can’t be fucking happening to me again.

  “It’s true. I swear,” Carl groans, still trying to talk to me. I’m ten seconds away from kicking him in the face to shut him up.

  Images of the CPR classes I took in high school start flashing through my head. I quickly put my palms to the middle of her chest and start pumping. I pump hard and fast until I count to thirty, plug her nose, tilt her head back, and blow into her mouth.

  Her mouth that used to be warm but is cooling fast.

  I do it again and again.

  Still nothing.

  I think about calling 911 but I’m too afraid that if I stop she will die, if she isn’t dead already. When I blow for the fourth time into her mouth, I feel my tears start to wet her lips.

  I pump again, hearing Carl’s wailing in the background. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t tried to run yet. He really should, shot foot and all.

  “Sky, sweetheart, you have to wake up,” I beg as I hit the thirtieth pump again, this time feeling the crack of her sternum under my hands. “FUCK!” I roar before tilting her head back again and blowing, practically sobbing into her mouth.

  And that’s when it happens. Water gushes onto my lips.

  She’s choking, barely sputtering, and I turn her to the side as water slowly pours from her mouth.

  “Baby.” I stroke her wet hair, trying to get her to look at me. “Sky, can you hear me? Fucking look at me dammit!” Grasping her face lightly in my hands I move her eyes to mine. Her eyes that are still fucking closed. I feel for a pulse; it’s there but so fucking faint that I don’t know if it’s real or wishful thinking.

  I quickly pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911. That’s when Carl speaks yet again.

  “I swear, Liam. I found her this way. She tried to kill herself.”

  I ignore him, waiting for the operator to pick up. He’s fucking lucky I haven’t decided to put a bullet in his head yet, especially since the gun tucked in my pants is a burning reminder that I could.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “My girlfriend. I found her in the bathtub. I think she drowned.”

  “You think she drowned, sir? Is she alive now?”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. I performed CPR. She’s breathing, but barely.”

  “Okay, sir. We are sending an emergency vehicle your way now. Stay on the phone until they arrive, sir.”

  “Okay. Please send the cops too. The guy that tried to kill her is still here.”

  “Someone tried to kill her? Is the suspect armed, sir?”

  “No, but I am, so you might want to fucking hurry.”

  I pull Skylar close to my chest, rocking her back and forth. I think the operator is still speaking, but I hear nothing. I start to turn my gaze upward, almost desperate enough to do something like fucking pray, and that’s when I see it. An empty orange bottle sitting on top of the bathroom counter. One that I’ve never seen in her room before. I’m able to reach for it without moving her too much, and when I grab it I turn it so I can see the label.

  Xanax.

  Jesus.

  That’s why she’s still not fucking breathing.

  “I think she may have overdosed,” I quickly interrupt the operator.

  “Paramedics are close, just stay on the line.”

  “I told you,” Carl whines. “I found her this way. She tried to kill herself. I was going to help her before you got here.”

  I know he’s lying. The fact he thinks he could get away with this, that he thinks I would actually believe this is fucking insane.

  I lift myself off the floor, Skylar cold and naked and cradled in my arms. Somehow he got her to take these drugs. I picture him putting a fucking gun to her head, forcing the pills down her throat. I picture him drowning her and her screaming and pleading for me to help her. When I start walking to the door, past his crippled body, I picture her telling me she loved me before I left. I kiss her on the forehead before I look down at Carl and give him something I’ve never granted anyone before. A fucking pardon.

  “You’re lucky I have my girl in my arms right now, motherfucker,” I say, looking him right in the eyes. “Because if I didn’t, I would shoot you in the fucking face.” Then I pull my foot back and land a kick so hard to his head that I feel his jawbone crack even through my shoe. He may not be dead, but I guarantee when he wakes up, if he wakes up, he will wish he was.

  By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, the paramedics have already entered with a stretcher. One of them takes her from me, I don’t know which one. All their faces blur together—the only one I see is hers.

  “Sir. Sir!” Fingers snap in front of my face and I snap the fuck out of it. “Sir, did she take anything?”

  “No. I mean, yes. She took something, not willingly though.”

  “Do you know what it was?”

  I hand him the empty bottle as they start to wheel her off. He’s yelling something about an overdose. I follow close behind, not wanting to let her out of my sight. The EMT stops me before I follow them into the back.

  “Please,” I beg. “I want to ride with her. I can’t leave her.”

  A hand on my shoulder startles me, and it’s then that I notice the red and blue lights flashing. A cop stands next to me. “Sir, we’re going to need to ask you a few questions.”

  “I need to go with her.” I start to push against his hold, just wanting to get to Sky. When they close the ambulance doors, I almost flip out.

  “Sir! I will take you to the hospital as soon as you answer some questions for me.”

  I look at him, and he must see the anguish in my eyes because he pats me on the shoulder and assures me she’ll be all right. But he doesn’t know shit. I follow him back into the house, ready to answer all their questions because the faster I do it the faster I can fucking get to her.

  6 months later

  “FUCK, I NEED A nap so fucking bad!” Liam pulls off his shirt and collapses onto the bed, my laptop bouncing under his weight. I close it because I know now that he’s in here I will get nothing done, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt.

  “You just get back from the gym?” Liam decided a few months back that he wanted to try his hand at training boxers. He managed to hook up with a trainer he used to know from his boxing days that still worked the circuit, some guy named Ray, and has been working non-stop ever since attempting to learn and create a name for himself.

  “Nah, I got back a few hours ago.”

  “Ah, so, you must have just finished helping Shay move into the pool house, I take it?”

  I got Shay an internship with a fashion designer friend of mine about two months ago. He saw her sketches and, like I knew he would, immediately recognized her talent
. Granted, she will have to work her ass off, but I think it’s perfect for Shay. She was finally able to make the drive here yesterday, bringing all her stuff with her. Obviously I insisted she move into the pool house since it’s now just sitting there vacant. That way she doesn’t have to worry about L.A. rent and she can be close to her brother. Which was Liam’s only stipulation if she wanted to live in L.A.

  He nods then grabs my hand off the laptop, kissing my palm. “I swear I had no idea she had that much fucking stuff. Who the hell needs twelve purses shaped like different fruits?”

  “Aw man! Does she have that Betsey Johnson Strawberry one? If so, I have to borrow it.”

  “You’re both ridiculous,” he scolds, but I know he’s smiling on the inside. “I still say we should have moved her into Noah’s old room.” Noah moved into Erik’s house about a month ago. It was expected, and I’m going to miss him, but I’m happy for him.

  “And I told you she’s an adult and she needs her own space. She doesn’t need her brother in the room right across the hall from her. What if she wants to have friends over or something? She needs her privacy. And sorry I couldn’t help. I was just really in the zone.” I scoot closer to him, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. His arms are still my favorite place to be.

  “It’s cool, I said I didn’t need your help. I want you to finish your script. If you’re in the fucking zone, stay in it.”

  I started writing a script about my life after my psychiatrist suggested it. He said it may be therapeutic. A way to deal with all the things I’ve been through. The more I wrote the more I realized if I hadn’t lived it, I never would believe it was a true story. Especially the part where my psycho father actually ended up getting sentenced to more prison for tax evasion than he did for my attempted murder.

  Never fuck with the Government.

  Luckily I never had to testify; he took a plea deal. Not that I would have minded facing him in court, but I was worried about Liam. When I had to give my statement to the police, Liam about lost his shit. For weeks he was racked with guilt thinking that if he hadn’t left it never would have happened. Thinking that I chose his life over mine, not accepting that Carl wasn’t leaving me with a choice. I was going to die either way.

  The “what ifs” were choking us until finally I couldn’t take it anymore and made him realize and accept that he was, that he is, my savior. That there were a whole lot of other “what ifs,” all of which would have resulted in my death. He turned around on instinct. If he’d actually gone for that food, I wouldn’t be here today. He gave me CPR; he made it possible for me to even have a fighting chance when they pumped my stomach to rid me of the drugs.

  “Are you almost done with it?”

  “Almost. I’m stuck on the ending though. I’m supposed to turn it into my agent at the end of the week so she can start pitching it to some studios.”

  I also plan on turning it into an actual movie. It’s time I get to show my truth to the world instead of letting the media do it for me. Maybe people will believe it, maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll think I’m full of shit and just trying to cover up my raging drug problem. All I know is I don’t really fucking care; at least I get to tell it.

  “Hmm, well I think I have a pretty good idea for an ending.”

  “Oh really?” I ask curiously, starting to trace his scars softly with my fingers.

  “It’s in my pants.” He winks at me and I smack him on his stomach.

  “Ouch!”

  “You’re so not romantic.”

  “What? I meant my pants pocket. What were you thinking, dirty girl?”

  “Whatever. Which pocket?”

  “My right one.”

  I reach into his right pocket, ignoring the growing bulge in his pants. Yeah right, and I’m the dirty one. When my hand touches what feels suspiciously like a ring box, I freeze.

  “Aren’t you going to take it out?” he asks softly, wrapping his fingers around my slender wrist, pulling until my hand is free.

  I swallow hard when I see the green velvet box.

  “Open it,” Liam says.

  “I-I don’t think I can. My hands are shaking too much.”

  He opens it for me and my tears start to fall. Inside is a gorgeous ring, one unlike any other that I’ve seen before. A ruby heart is held together by two diamond encrusted hands, a diamond crown resting above the heart.

  “It’s called a Claddagh ring. The hands that hold the heart represent friendship. The crown on top,” he points to the crown, “represents loyalty. And the heart, that represents love.”

  “It’s so…I don’t even have words, Liam. It’s beautiful.”

  “Well, that is definitely a word.”

  “Smartass.”

  He laughs. “I have another word you can use. Yes.”

  I bite my lip, trying not smile or cry even harder. I know what he means, but I want to hear him say it anyway. “You didn’t ask me a question though. I don’t know what I’m saying yes to. Yes to pizza? Yes to a blowjob?”

  “Did you really just say the words pizza and blowjob during a marriage proposal?”

  “Technically no. You still haven’t made it one.”

  “Cute.” He pushes some loose hair behind my ear, causing me to shiver. “Okay, how’s this? I love you, Skylar Barrett. I love every broken part of you, and I love even more how you love and accept every broken part of me. Marry me?”

  When he slides the ring onto my left finger, I can do nothing but nod and cry and say yes between kisses. And when I’m finally able to move past my shock and form a cohesive sentence I will tell him that he’s wrong.

  We aren’t broken people, we never were.

  In fact we are far from it. We are fighters.

  Survivors.

  Apart we were always strong we just couldn’t recognize it.

  But together, together we are fucking lethal.

  STAY TUNED FOR CASS & SHAYLA’S STORY

  Coming 2017

  Excerpt from: Bound to Me by Christy Pastore

  The duo snogging didn’t bother to make room for us, leaving me no choice but to stand on the same side of the lift with Alex. With our arms brushed against one another, heat spread across my skin like a raging wildfire. The two of us snuggled close in a compact space. My hand still tingled from his touch. It was impossible to concentrate on anything other than him. He was here. Right next to me, looking gorgeous and smelling perfectly divine. All sense I had retreated from my brain as I stood there fantasizing about pushing him up against the wall and allowing him to shag . . . fuck the hell out of me.

  Shut up, Ella, you dirty bird.

  When the car reached the fifth floor, and the couple playing slap and tickle walked out, I stifled a moan of relief. Unsure if I was comforted due to the fact that they left or that I had Alex all to myself. I glanced at him, trying to get a sense of his thoughts. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, and his eyes remained forward, fixed on the numeric panel.

  The lift came to a halt at the lobby and Alex stepped out, his head turned left and back to the right. The unrehearsed movement was fluid. He motioned for me to walk in front of him, but I had no clue where we were going.

  “You lead the way.”

  “All right, but keep your pace with mine,” he instructed. His voice was firm not angry.

  I nodded, and did as I was instructed, keeping my stride with his as we passed through the spacious lobby. Something had changed his demeanor during the ride in the lift . . . elevator. Mentally I noted that I needed to brush up on my American English. If I intended to do business here, I should at least make the effort to know the proper terms.

  Once outside, his hand reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out his sunglasses. As we approached the valent stand, he put them on, shielding me from seeing his gorgeous eyes that reminded me of glowing golden sunlight sifting through deep green leaves.

  Snap out of it, Ella. He’s your bodyguard.

  Straightenin
g my shoulders, I hauled my handbag higher onto my shoulder. I vowed to lock all my scandalous thoughts away.

  *cracks knuckles*

  First and foremost, I must thank and praise The Husband. You make me laugh, you believe in me, you sacrifice for me; without question or hesitation. I swear the way you love me, turns love into something tangible. There will never be a book I write about love that has not, in some way, been inspired by you.

  Christy Pastore, the Maximus to my William, my sounding board, my person. You have been there since the beginning with me. Literally the very, very super beginning, before I even had a Facebook and you had to constantly tell me it was a necessary evil if I wanted to be an author so I finally caved because as always, you were right. You had already finished and published your first book at this point (Fifteen Weekends in case you forgot, and FYI anyone reading this who has NOT read Fifteen Weekends you MUST immediately) and I just remember thinking how amazing it was that you took the time to answer any questions I may have had, give me advice I didn’t even know I needed, or even read something for me I was unsure of. Our sprinting sessions were and still continue to be my favorite part of the writing process. I am so lucky that my first friend in the book and author community was you. Your loyalty, positivity and constant willingness to help, even when we barely knew one another, set the perfect example for me as I continued to meet new people in the book and author world. I am so proud to call you a friend. I love you bestie!

  Jamie Mcguire. You yelled at me on a shuttle bus in L.A. to PICK A DAMN RELEASE DATE ALREADY! Okay, maybe not yelled so much as sternly scolded me. And to be fair it was much deserved seeing as I was two years into a book that should have taken half that time to write. That night I picked a release date and the day after that I announced it, and despite the fact that because of scheduling conflicts I had to move the date, I still hit my deadline. When you pushed me that day to pick a date something inside me changed. Knowing that you had my back, that you believed in me enough to take me to task, gave me that extra boost of confidence I didn’t know was even lacking. If you hadn’t done that I probably wouldn’t have released this book until 2022, and we both know we can’t have that seeing as we release our book that year ;). I look up to you and admire the woman are; especially knowing all the obstacles you have overcome and continue to overcome. You are a loving mother, a killer author, an amazing business woman, a giving and loyal friend, and girl you can hustle like no one’s business. Seriously, it is impressive. You are my family and I can’t thank you enough you feisty lil’ ginge.