The white letters on my phone display nine forty-five. I turn the screen off and close my eyes. I hear booming and screaming coming from down the hall. I even have my door closed. I try and ignore it. It's Ward. It's his stupid rock music. I almost forgot he didn't care about anyone else but himself. I pull the comforter over my head. Still thumping. I turn on my phone, and text Ward to please turn it down. Ten minutes later. No response.
I angrily throw my blanket back and stomp to the door. I bravely thump down the hallway. As I reach the doorway, I think of a million and one things to say to him. How can he be so selfish? How can you be so inconsiderate when people are trying to sleep? How can you be such an asshole?
As I opened the half-opened door, I prepare to scream over the loud music. I stop when I see Ward leaning up against the wall in his boxers, slumped over, and sleeping. I turn the music off. He doesn't move. His face is sunken in a little, he has black welts under his eyes, and his left arm is extended. He looks very skinny. His extended arm has a thick red rubber band they use to tie your arm before you give blood. Beside him, are about a half a dozen empty syringes. Fuck.
I dash to him, and grab his face, "Ward?" I say, gently shaking him. No response, no movement. He's barely breathing. Shit. "WARD!" I yell as I smack his face a few times. I snap my fingers in front of his face, close to crying, "Ward, please!" Nothing. He slumps back over when I let go of his face. I pick it back up with both hands. "WARD! Please don't do this, FUCK," I cry. I take his bare shoulders, and shake him a little bit.
A low rumble comes from his throat. His eyebrows lift a little bit. "Hayden," He barely whispers.
"Yes, Ward. Stay with me," I say as I smack his face a few more times.
"Hi," He opens his eyes half way before they roll back in his head. He comes to again and holds his head up. His breathing his slow and heavy. "I thought you hated-" He couldn't finish.
"No, no. Ward, please keep your eyes open. I'm going to get help!" I yell.
"No, I'm fine," He barely says, as he grabs my arm when I try and turn.
"No, you're not Ward."
"Yeah," He fights to keep his eyes open, "I thought I would never," He takes a breath, "Talk." He slumps back over. Fuck. I pick his head up. I'm crying a thousand tears in one. What do I do? I need to call an ambulance. They'll probably take an hour to get here. Shit!
"Please, don't do this," I cry as I sit down beside him. He is so pale. "Why?" I ask. I don't know why I ask.
He opens his eyes again, "I tried. I tried. I tried," He repeats himself over and over.
"Shh, please just stay still," I say as I bolt down the stairs to the kitchen. I feel like I'm running in slow motion to bring him a bottle of water. When I return, he's looking at me.
"Don't leave me now," he says.
"Okay, here. Drink this," I tilt his head back, and he opens his mouth a little. A little comes out of the corner of his mouth. He swallows and slouches over a little. Should I pull the band off, or will that make it worse? I don't know what to do. He has marks and scabs all up and down both of his arms. He's been doing this for a while.
"I think I'm dying," He whispers.
"No, you'll be okay, I promise," I say. I don't know why I make this promise because I really don't know.
"Okay," He smiles, "It kills me," He starts, "To see you with that scum," He scrunches his face, and winces in pain. The rubber band fell off.
I don't say anything. I need help. I don't know what to do.
Once he stops; he relaxes, and says between gasps, "Can I just hold you? Nothing bad."
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I cave in to those eyes. I gently lay my head over his heavily beating heart. His arms weakly lay around me. His breathing increases. He lays his head on top of mine. I feel his arms shaking. I feel his shoulders bouncing. I hear him finally start sobbing, and he grabs my shirt.
I shut my eyes so tight, maybe to try and tame the river, dwelling there. It does no good because I start crying too. He's screaming under and above me, "Why did I have to lose you? Why? Why? You were the only reason for me to try, and now I have nothing."
I get off of his chest, and my hair sticks to his wet face. He looks miserable. I take a deep breath through my tears, "I'll stay with you tonight, just tonight. Until you get better, okay?" Be brave, Hay.
He looks down, and breaths a heavy sigh. His arms fall to his side. He shakes his head yes. I take all of the nasty needles and throw them in the garbage. I make sure there are no more needles and climb beside him, helping him down in the bed. Am I wrong for doing this? I don't want him to die, and I don't want to be a bitch and just leave him. I should just call an ambulance. That might spark a whole new fire I just don't have the strength to fight right now.
I pull the black comforter over us. His head lays lazily to the side, and I fix it. "You can do it without me, you know," I whisper.
He slowly puts his hand on my face, and says nothing; just blinks. He swallows, "Thank you, Hayden, for everything." His words are slow and a little slurred. I press my lips together as I cry. I scoot into his chest and put my arm around it. When I breathe in, all of the mucus inside me catches on itself. He grabs my back, and I just lose it when I smell him. I've never been more confused in my life. I don't know how to be strong right now. I don't know how to deal with this.
"Okay," is all I can muster before completely losing it.
He turns on his back, and I lay my head on his stomach. I want to make sure he's alright. Yeah, that's all. He starts singing, "Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye," Over and over while picking up parts of my hair and dropping it. I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up in the same place, but the daytime floods the room. His stomach is more bent, and he's breathing regularly. I look up at him, and he has a tablet in his hand, poking at the screen.
"Hey," He says.
"Hey?" I say back.
"I don't know why I woke up to you on my stomach, but you can leave anytime now," He says without looking up.
"Why didn't you just wake me up?" I say, confused.
"I'm not a complete asshole," Still doesn't look up.
I climb over and off of him. Before I open the door I almost yell, "You're fucking welcome," I slammed the door, and couldn't make it five feet without falling to my knees. I hold onto the banister, and start balling my eyes out. With my hand over my mouth. I want to scream. I want to yell. I want to run away. I can't believe this! After what I did for him last night, he just treats me like this? What the fuck? I don't understand. Maybe he doesn't remember? But he has to remember.
I decide to make the deepest shade of fruit punch I can possibly make. I put around seven packets in one water bottle. The expensive white dress lays on my bed while I stand and ponder about what I'm going to do; with the red water bottle top to my teeth. I circle the lid around, and finally, decide to do it. Before I do, I slip on Trevor's green shirt, and nothing else under it. Scooping up the dress, I walk to his door. Deep breath.
With one smack, the door comes open. I harden my eyes and look at him in the same position. His face doesn't budge. Throwing the dress on the floor, I open the water bottle. My eyes don't move off of his. I tip the red water over and let the liquid flow all over the dress and floor. His face is in shock. I screw the cap back on, throw the empty bottle at him, and turn around. A door slam was appropriate, I think. I feel a mixture of shame, pride, ego, and guilt. It whirls through my stomach, as if on a spin cycle.
I feel a pressure on my right arm as I'm halfway down the hallway. It makes me swivel around to meet an angry face. His eyes are filled with rage, and his teeth are tightly clenched together when he speaks.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He screams as he pushes me up against the wall near the shower room door. I start shaking like a leaf. I'm speechless. "That fucking dress cost more than you make in a month," he spits, putting 'fucking' between his teeth.
"I don't want anything to do with you anymo
re," I say as his grip gets tighter on the all-too-familiar area. His body is so close to me, I can't move.
"I don't give a fuck what you want," He yells, and his booming voice takes me back, "You fucking psycho bitch!" His hand hits the wall beside my head so hard, the slap echoes through the hall.
My eyes widen with moisture, and I shake so much, I start to feel sick. His eyes hold so much hate, I can barely stand it. It's like looking into the eyes of Lucifer himself. I can't break away from his gaze; as my legs give way and I slide down the wall. His grip is still on my arm, and he lets go momentarily to grasp my wrist tightly. He holds it so tight, I fear he may break the bones under my skin. "Ow," I sob like a child, "I just want to go home."
"There is no such thing as home," He spits through his teeth, "See, that's the thing you don't understand. Home doesn't exist!" He bends down on his hands and knees, puts his face directly in my face. I turn my head, hold my knees to my chest, and make myself as small as possible. His right hand tightly cups my chin, forcing me to look at him, "Why can't you understand that? You can't go back, princess," He says angrily.
Maybe if I tightly close my eyes, this will all go away? Maybe if I turn this off, he will disappear? I open my blurry eyes, and he's still breathing in my face. I don't break my gaze as I lift my heavy arm, and gently place it on his; which is still on my face. "Just, stop." My voice is so faint, I barely recognize it myself. He loosens his grip. My breath catches on itself. I let my head hang as I try and breathe. I can't. I can't catch my breath. My head starts to spin, and I feel my body slump to the left. I try not to let him see me fall apart. I was just so strong a few minutes ago. I start hyperventilating. Every muscle in my stomach and chest tenses up, making it even more difficult to breathe. What's happening? My mind goes blank, as I reach out for help.
My vision tunnels, as I slowly relax. My mind swirls, and then blackens.
SEVENTEEN.5
(WARD’S POV)
Her body is limp in my arms. My anger is hard to let go in just a second, and it angers me when I think she may be faking this to get me away from her. Who does she think she is? Is she faking or is this for real? My head is still raging with hate, and revenge. My mindless thoughts tell me to strike her, and maybe remove the idea from her head that I can be fooled by this childish trick. As I lift my arm, a strong grip holds my wrist. I angrily whip round.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.
"What I'm told," Trevor says.
I get on my feet and let Hayden slump to the floor. I don't think she was faking it. Trevor walks around me and lays Hayden on her back.
"Leave her alone," I say with my teeth tightly clenched.
"Or what, Ward? I'm doing what I've been tasked with, what you've failed. Remember? Your one and only task? You were supposed to befriend her, and get her to tell you the information we needed from her." He said, inching closer to my face.
"I tried. I didn't expect," I paused to try and piece this next part out right, "to actually fall for her."
"Please, that's weakness," he says as I turn to Hayden and begin picking her up off the floor, "You may want to leave her on her back."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I ask angrily, thinking he's trying to imply something.
"It means she just had a panic attack and blacked out. Her head needs to be even with her heart. The blood flow needs to reach her brain. If not, she could have a seizure."
I push him aside and pick her up to carry her to her bed. I put her head straight on the bed, and move the pillow from under her. I walk back out to the hallway. "How did you even get in?"
"The cute redhead let me in, and left." He said.
"Listen, I don't know why the brotherhood is torturing me so much. I'm trying to get the information they need, but I keep hurting her."
"You were never supposed to fall in love with her in the first place. You just needed to get what we needed to know. You may have Head HE in your grip, but I can see right through you."
"Head HE is like a father to me. I've only agreed to do this for him because I owe him a lot. Mostly with my life."
"Well isn't that just cute? I've been in this brotherhood almost my whole life. You're a newbie. I knew you'd fuck up eventually. They sent me in to pick up the pieces. They sent in Will, but when you threw him out of the house that night, he broke three ribs. Head HE isn't too happy about that by the way. Let's just face it, Ward, you've changed. When I first met you, you were a hard ass son of a bitch. Now, you're turning into a pussy ass bitch."
"I know I've changed. When Head HE gave me the orders to do this, I thought nothing of it. When I first saw her, I thought, 'this is too easy.' I'll just woo the girl, and get what I want from her. Everything was fake, up until I first kissed her. It's like I first opened my eyes. The first time we had sex was mostly lust. Second was on a drunk. But the third was really love." I paused before I confessed this next part, "And I know that night in Tallahassee wasn't even supposed to happen. I know that meeting was staged, and I was being framed. I also know the night with Rod wasn’t supposed to happen, either. Emmy and Rod forced a needle in my arm out of spite for what I did to Will. I thought the brotherhood was turning on me, and I finally have a chance to redeem myself with this task. If I fail, it's banishment. I don't want that. This is the only type of family that I've ever had. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose her. I don't know what to do, brother."
"But you got out of it, didn't you? The law, I mean. I'll talk to Head HE and see what he has to say. While I'm gone, don't fuck anything up. When does the head lady here come back?"
"Probably tonight or tomorrow, hard to say."
"I'll let you know by tonight. You need to stay away from her until then. Can you do that junior?"
"Yeah," I say, whipping my forehead with the palm of my hand.
"If you don't hear from me by nine tonight, you'll know nothing has changed. The plan still goes as planned." He inched closer, "And you are to stay away for good. Make her hate you even more."
I'm putting my trust into a brotherhood that has treated me equally as great as it does evil. If Head HE gives me pardon, I will still be in his favor; but it also means I can no longer be with Hayden. I will disappear from her. If he grants me my wishes on being with her, I can no longer be a part of this brotherhood, but I can be whatever I want to Hayden. That is after they're finished with whatever they've planned on doing with her.
"The best of luck, brother. Quite frankly, I don't want anything bad to happen to her either," He says with sympathetic eyes. He walks towards the stairs and trots down them.
I decide to wait until Hayden wakes up to leave. She starts to stir as I walk into the room. I know she's awake, and I also know that she knows I'm in the room. Her breathing has changed. As I get closer, it hastens. I want her to know I still love her without saying anything. I want her to know that from this moment on, everything is going to change. In my favor, or theirs. They both come with a price. A price that I don't know if I'm ready to pay. I'm standing beside her bed. She starts to sweat.
I lean over her, and her eyes grip tighter. I hate how she is afraid of me. I gently move her curly hair off of her forehead. Leaning over her, I bring my lips to her forehead, kiss it, and whisper, "I love you." A tear escapes my eye. I pull the covers over her and walk out of the room, and I hear her breathe a sigh of relief.
I change, grab my phone, and smokes. Before I walk out of the front door, I look around. I won't see anything the same anymore.
5:45 no messages. I'm walking endlessly.
6:35 no messages. I've reached the newly paved dirt road.
7:56 no messages. I'm sitting in the woods, on a damp log.
8:32 no messages. I'm slowly losing hope.
8:55 New text message.
Brother T: I've talked. HE wants to have a meeting with you. He'll be here at one. My house. Write back to confirm. Erase this message.
ME: ok. one. confirming.
&nb
sp; I arrive at his shack of a home at 12:52. His black motorcycle is already parked outside. Trevor opens the door and closes it abruptly behind me. Head HE stands in the kitchen, eating an apple. He still has his riding gear on, a black leather jacket. His black pants are fastened with a holster belt. A gun at his side completes his 'sheriff' look. A badge is dangling from his jacket. His gloved hands throw the half devoured apple away. He removes his black helmet, to reveal a blondish hair blue eyed man that I've considered something close to a father.
"Hello, son," He says.
I clasp my left hand with his right and pat his back with my other hand.
"To the meeting hall," Trevor says. I start walking to the front door.
"Where are you going?" Head HE asks.
"The meeting hall?" I say.
"The old meeting hall was taken over by cops, remember?" Trevor says, "We have a new meeting hall." I follow them into the windowless bathroom beside the kitchen. The green toilet sits to the left beside a matching sink. In front of it, is it's bathtub counterpart. There are about three feet between them, and on the wall in front of the toilet is a large metal rack with towels and other things on it. He pushes the rack, which you would think was bolted to the floor, to the left revealing a metal door. Trevor flips up a small flap on the door and pushes some numbers in on the keypad. The keypad beeps, and he pushes on the door. When we are ushered into a dark hallway, he flips on a light and pushes back the metal shelf before closing the door.
The hallway leads towards the back of the house, around the circumference. The brick floor suggests this was once a patio. The right side is the concrete walls of the house. To the left side of the walls is drywall and it smell like fresh paint. The end of the hallways bears another metal door, with the same keypad. Trevor pushes his way passed us, and puts a code in the door, and pushes that one open.
"Welcome to the new meeting hall," He says to both of us. I'm assuming Head HE hasn't seen it either. We step down into a plain white room with an old wooden glazed table commanding the center. The eight chairs that surround it are the same texture. "I just finished it last week. I hope you're pleased," Trevor finishes before Head HE takes his place at the head of the table. The room isn't much bigger than the old one, but it's much brighter.
Hot & Cold: Toxic Love Page 15
