“Text Janie, tell her briefly where we are, and to send the police,” Ward says, and I obey. It took a little too long to send, and my arms were starting to shake. It sent.
“Well, let’s hope Janie knows what to do.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Janie this is Hayden. Need help. Ward and I are prisoners at my old house in a storm shelter. Send police.’”
“Good. But isn’t Rob the Sherriff here or something?” He asks.
“Shit. He’s going to come back for us, and he knows we have a cell phone.”
“We have to hide it,” He says to my face as it’s glowing in the dark by the screen.
I pull a part of the wall back in the bathroom and almost drop the phone behind it when the phone rings. It’s Janie. I hurry to pick it up.
“Hello?” I almost yell.
“HAYDEN?” She screams from the other end.
“I don’t have service, there’s no time to explain. Don’t tell the police we contacted you with a cell phone, it is very important you do not, okay?”
“Okay, but are you okay? I was so worried!”
“We are in trouble, just contact the police and tell them I’m at my old farmhouse, and that you have a hunch. Hello? Shit. No service. I hope she got that,” I look to Ward.
“She’s a smart girl, she’ll know.” He says, reassuring me. I put the phone on silent and put it back behind the wall. I follow the light of the heater in the darkness to the counter where the matches are, and light one of the small candles. I turn the vent in the bathroom on and sit back on the cot. I’ve never yearned for night time as much as do right now.
An hour passes, then two, then five. I don’t think they’re coming. My heart stops when the room fills with light. The door jolts open, and I shout, “HELLO?”
Something drops on the floor. I run to the light as I hear, “He’ll be going through withdraw soon, you’ll be needing that.” The door shuts and snaps right back into place.
“YOU CAN’T KEEP US IN HERE! LET US OUT MOTHERFUCKER!” I yell as I realize my fists broke through the corkboard wall and I hit the metal with my knuckles. The emotions boiling up from the depths of my stomach reach my vocal cords, and they vibrate them uncontrollably. My face is turning red as my eyes tighten so much, I feel like they’ll peel back on each other. I feel dehumanized. I feel like a caged, beaten animal. I feel used, disappointed, betrayed, degraded, frustrated beyond words, and most of all I feel so helpless, I think I may need help to walk again. My exasperated scream turns into grunts, which turns into a purging cry. In the fetal position, I grab my knees with my back against the shattered wall. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to die here, and I certainly don’t want to die like this.
I find a small comfort in Ward’s sweet words as he bathes me in them. I don’t know what he is saying because the only thing I hear is the blood pumping in my ears. His low, soothing voice forces the tears to stop. I realize that I’m lying in the cot, on Ward's lap, with no recollection of how I got there. I come to the sudden realization that I’m repeating, “I don’t want to die like this,” And feel Ward stroking my head.
I think I’m sleeping. I feel no physical sensations, only emotional dreams. I’m somewhere safe. I’m somewhere far away from this dungeon. I hear the clanking of boots walk above me, as I rise into a light.
I jolt awake. I realize I’m by myself and see Ward’s faint outline in the dim candlelight. I don’t know how long I’ve been out for. He’s rummaging through the cabinets. I don’t know what he’s searching for so viciously, but he’s making me anxious. His erratic movements are not waivered by my alert eyes. Instead of stopping, he just intensifies his search. He stops for a second, puts his hands to his lips, and looks around again.
“What are you doing?” my voice is hoarse and unrecognizable.
“Looking for something,” He carries on, without stopping.
“Looking for what?” I ask, trying not to push this intermittent behavior into anger.
“Something to take the edge off,” He says without missing a beat.
“Maybe try sitting down,” I say calmly, “Or you’ll tire yourself out. We haven’t eaten in a while, so try and conserve your energy.” I talk to him like a child. This calms him a bit, as he sits down and puts his hands over his face and rubs his eyes. I decide to stay over on the cot. My mouth is so dry, and my hands are starting to shake.
“I need something. I feel so terrible,” He talks to the ground.
“Okay, just try and stay as calm as possible,” I say, “Because if you get too worked up, you’ll make yourself sick.”
“I’m already sick, Hayden.” He says this through clenched teeth. I’m terrified. We are both stuck down here. If he gets too enraged, he may kill me. Survival mode kicks in. I just want to stay alive.
I get up on legs that don’t want to work anymore. I walk over to him in the darkness, my body working against gravity. I step on something hard and I wince in pain. It’s a gun. The thing he threw down before slamming the door. I quickly remember briefly what he said before he tossed it down. Before I can even think about it, Ward is swiftly by my side. He picks up the gun and puts it in his back pocket. “You’re not sick,” I say softly, “You’re tired.”
Without warning, he grabs the back of my hair and pulls it up. “I am sick, and you know it. I am sick physically, and mentally. I just want the pain to stop.”
“Please,” I whimper.
“Please,” He mocks me. I fight against his strength as he powerfully walks me over to the cot. My hands are trying to release the tension he has on my hair, with each step his grip gets tighter. It is only released when I’m being thrown onto the cot. The blue mattress on top of the makeshift bed is all I see before I’m involuntarily twisted around. I meet a darkened face. All I hear are words, and I am frightened. He’s over me, screaming vile words at me. “Bitch! Why couldn’t you just have just stayed away from me like I told you to, I wouldn’t be here? I would be doing what I was doing for years. You showed up and fucked everything up. I warned you, and you didn’t listen. You’re making us both pay the price for your family’s mistakes!” I hadn’t realized that he had struck me several times.
He only stops when the lights come on. His eyes widen, and his face softens. He’s in mid-strike when he sees me, and stops. He takes a few steps back. I see him bolt into the bathroom and close the door. I feel the swollen eye and busted lip with my fingers. When I remove my hand from my face, I see a familiar red liquid roll from my fingertips. I can’t cry. I can’t move. My mind is blank, and my soul is void.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know where to go.
I don’t care if I die. I want to die.
The only faces that come to my mind are those sweet, angelic faces of Janie, Jessica, and Hannah. Oh, how they must be worried. I think back to better days. I think back to when we went on a picnic just before we left for the beach. The trees were starting to shed. The winds shifted to a light breeze that made our hair float in the air. I think about Janie’s contagious laughter. I think about Jessica’s sweet touch that made you feel like you were never alone. I think about Hannah’s newly found motherhood and the reason for her conservative behavior. I will myself there. I close my eyes and can smell the damp tree that we sat under. I tasted the ham sandwiches that Janie put together. I hear the laughter float above the tree line. I feel my hair licking my face through the whistle of Mother Nature’s sweet breath, and I can almost feel the sun’s rays gracefully stroking my arms and legs. I see the season’s butterflies scurrying along the grass, looking for one last tulip to suck on. I barely realize that I’ve fallen asleep. I’m torn from my memoir of a dream, and into an underground hell. Ward sits in a chair, in the middle of the room; facing me. He traces the grooves and curves of the gun with his fingertips, as he stares so intently at it.
“I think it
would be better if I weren’t here anymore,” He starts, “I’ve hurt you too many times. I’ve destroyed everything and used you as my scapegoat. Goodbye, I love you.” He wouldn’t do it. I read his mind.
“Stop,” I say quietly. My demands go unnoticed as he raises the gun to his head, with his finger on the trigger. “NO!” I scream. I run faster than I have ever before, but it happened in slow motion. I could see every line in his face as he closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the end of his life. His hand shook as the pressure on the trigger grew firmer under his determined finger.
The grit on his teeth tightened as the barrel closed in on his temple. My hand reaches his as he pulled the trigger, and the gun screamed such a horrible song.
TWENTY-FOUR
It fell to the floor before igniting again. My hands bombard my face, and then my mouth, trying to contain a vile scream that’s so piercing, the most vicious animal would run scared. I stare at him. His eyes are wide and open. His face is turned upward. My ears ring from the gun blast. It was almost deafening. I cannot contain my tears, as they burst from the deepest corners of my eyes.
Ward’s breathing deepens, as his eyes find mine. I shake all over. Half expecting him to kill me for ruining his suicide attempt, I bolt into the bathroom and barricade the door with my body. If he tries to do it again, I won’t be able to see it. I’ll die in here before I see his blood splattered all over the room. I feel the door pounding behind me. I sink down to the floor with my back on it and lean my head against it. “Somebody help me!” I scream as loud as my sore throat will allow me to. I scream towards the vent, “Get me out of here!” I cry. I cry hard. The dim, swinging light flickers. I feel my empty stomach pinch with every inhale. After a grunt from behind the door, it stops moving. The sound in here is so quiet, it’s maddening. I decide to get up and turn the shower on. Red water spurts out from the ceiling. There’s just a shower head above me, some rusty nobs. No barrier between the shower and toilet. No curtain in this small room. I watch the red liquid funnel out to the middle of the floor, which has a centralized drain. I calmly decide to urinate and undress. The clear water pushes through the pipes after the hot water heater has purged itself of the rusty water it held in its belly for a very long time. The water is lukewarm. I let the drops cascade over my beaten body. It makes me feel somewhat human again to take a shower. The familiar sensations flow over my body. I yearn it to take the pain away too.
It seems strange that I am not worried when the door is opened. I do not feel fear when I see his hollowed face. Although I back myself into the corner, I don’t feel anything. I numb myself, and prepare for the inevitable. He takes a few steps to me, and I press my back against the adjacent wall to the nobs. His clothes are immediately drenched from the water. He closes his eyes, puts his forearm to the wall, and lays his head on it. The beads of water that land on his forehead flows down and around his jaw as he speaks. I am pinned between him and the wall, but not forcefully. I don’t know what to do, my mind is entirely blank.
He cries. He weeps as he drags his other hand on the wall beside me. “I’m sorry.”
In my mind, I ask him to repeat what he said. These foreign words that he probably tastes in his mouth are strange to my ears. My wet, split lips part just to let out a breath that I’ve been holding back since the first time he’s yelled at me, which was the first night we met. It catches on itself when I breathe back in.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries, “I’m sorry that I put my hands on you, I’m sorry that I’ve lied to you, and I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish. But most of all,” He looks down into my eyes with his sorrowful ones, “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you.” He looks deeply into my eyes with tears and shower water streaming down a regretful face. “I love you, and I’m sorry I tried to kill myself,” he says in hiccups. His lips tremble as he cries.
I slightly flinch when his hand reaches up to my face, with his forehead on mine. His eyes close as he strokes my jawline. A thumb pad brushes my lips. I finally bring my lips to his and taste his remorse. He cries as we kiss. He brings me closer, squeezes my back, and hugs me. He cries in my neck, as I wrap my arms around his. I feel a set of lips gently graze my neckline, and finally kisses it. His hand supports my head as I lean it back, and I feel it shake as I lay in it.
The water gets a bit warmer as I peel his wet shirt over his head. His hands feel my body like he’ll never touch me again. His jeans take the most time to take off, but he takes them off. The water surrounding us slowly loses its temperature and makes my nipples stand up. He kisses my chest. Sensations flood over me again. The sensation of pure love, joy, ecstasy, acceptance, and forgiveness. It feels breathtaking not to be numb and to feel something other than fear and pain. He quietly repeats, “I’m sorry,” in whispers. Every time he says it, my heart jumps. My kissing intensifies, and my blood races. He picks me off the floor, and I wrap my legs around his torso. We find the strength to love each other again. After all, we might only have each other in the end. Our souls connect. We pant like dogs. He is slow and almost mournful of the lives we could have had together. I feel his energy shift, as he carries me from the cold water and into the room. He sits down on the cot. I stand over him, and then climb over. We lay our wet bodies on the mattress, and make love to each other like it is the last time we will ever.
The lights turn off, and the only sound I hear is the shower still roaring inside the bathroom. The bed shifts, and I hear Ward turn the shower off. My weakened body lays there. I cannot keep my eyes open. I cannot fight the hunger, either. My body shakes from the sudden cold. There aren’t any blankets or sheets, just our body heat. Before my eyes completely shut, I see Ward setting our wet clothes on the tables. I decide this is how I want to die, beside him.
Daylight floods the room. A voice so loud echoes off of the walls, I barely understand it. “GET UP!” I hear clearly. We jolt awake and try to get on our feet. Have we been saved? Are the police here? Did Janie call them? A latter slides down from the opening, and a figure climbs down. As my eyes adjust to the sudden bright, my stomach turns when I see his familiar features. “I SAID GET UP!” He screams while we scramble to get off of the mattress and to our dry clothes. “WHERE IS IT?” He yells as he points a gun to our faces. We are speechless as I pull the baggy sweatpants on. “Where is it, Ward? I will shoot you right here! Tell me where the God damned cell phone is!”
Ward finally pieces together what he’s saying, and points to the bed. “There,” He says.
“One of you motherfuckers used MY cell phone to call for help, and they have been searching this place for three damn days now.” He drops it and steps on it with the heel of his boot until the screen is completely smashed. There goes our evidence. There goes all of our hopes of him getting what he deserves. He bends down and picks up the other gun on the floor, “As Sherriff,” He adjusts his badge, “I have taken over the investigation. Both of you, up NOW!” He signals us with his gun, and we scurry up the latter, half dressed.
I look around as my eyes adjust, and see dusk eating the sky, and it’s a bittersweet moment. There are threatening, angry skies behind us that match the tone in his voice. Before I can run, he grabs my arm and forces me to my knees. I fall into the patchy grass. Ward is forced beside me. I look at him. “I love you,” I say.
“Both of you, put your hands on your heads,” He demands, and we obey. I’m prepared to hear it go off. Tears flow down my face. The beams of sun rays cut through the dirty air. Through the tears, I see the back of my childhood home. I will myself to turn back time and fly away from here.
“Please, don’t,” I say simply.
“But you see, I have to. I have it all figured out. I found you with a gun and chased both of you. I had to shoot because you’re running away. It’s the perfect plan,” He says without a breath and with an erratic tone. The shot radiated above the trees and echoed around us. The birds flew away in flocks from the forest. Ward falls forward.
“NO!” I cry out, as Ward�
�s body flies forward, and he is on his face.
“Don’t move,” He says as I try and go to Ward. I hear the crunching of the grass get louder as he moves closer.
“Drop your weapon!” I hear from a distance. I almost try and beg him not to, and to tell him that I don’t have a weapon. A sudden realization comes over me. That was a female voice. The skies began to let loose, as I drop beside Ward, screaming his name. A swarm of officers tackles him to the ground. I look back at Rob with his face down on the ground. He looks up at me and screams. I turn Ward over and stroke his face. “WARD!” I scream through the rain as a thunderclap echoes through the hills. “Please, God no. Why?”
The paramedics run in slow motion to us with their gear. I point to Ward and start shouting for them to help them, but they also help me. They put a mask over my face. I look over and down and see them working on him intently. I look up at the dark, gray skies begging God. I see the guy working on Ward shake his head no as I’m being loaded into the back of an ambulance.
TWENTY-FIVE
Her name is Annabelle Lee Jenkins. She has my nose and his mouth. Her eyes are the color of the sky on a bright September day. She was born with a full head of jet black hair. Seven pounds, four ounces, twenty-one inches long. She holds my finger as I sing to her. A smile tugs at her small mouth when I sing ‘Forever and Ever Amen.’ It breaks my heart to know Ward isn’t here to see the birth of his daughter.
When she is six weeks old, Janie and I take a trip to the cemetery. But first, we pick up my emancipated father, who has falsely sat in prison for almost three years. It was a lot harder to get him out then I thought it was going to be, even with the evidence. Sometime in the bunker, Ward sent the voice recording to Janie’s cell phone. The voice recording, which recorded everything, was turned over to the police and help incriminate Rob. The trial is still going on, and I have to be there sometime next month to testify. I’m scared.
Hot & Cold: Toxic Love Page 21
