Hurt Me: A 'Me' Novel

by Jeri Williams

  Not fucking happening.

  I let her go back to her table, and I finished the rest of my shift eyeing Red. Yeah, I remembered exactly who she was, but I meant what I said. I’d had her; it was good. Now, she needed to move on because the look on Harley’s face when she said that shit about it being okay if I fucked other girls nearly had me ready to beat the shit out of everyone in the bar. I don’t know who I was angrier at, myself for giving her that picture of me or her for believing that I would do that shit. I might be a lot of things, but a sonofabitch wasn’t one of them.

  Couldn’t she see that I didn’t want anyone else but her? I hated that even after me showing her how much I wanted her, she still felt she wasn’t enough and not just for me. I knew that shit ran deeper. She felt she wasn’t enough for anything, and I hated that shit. I watched as she sat at her table all night and watched me or gazed off into the crowd.

  I knew she was still thinking about her mother and what would happen, hell I can’t lie; I thought about it too. What would happen to her, to her state of mind when she went home mind? Fuck, what would I do? I felt a person only really got one good shot at bringing someone back from the edge and once they do, it’s a wrap. No repeating that shit. I had no clue what I’d do if Harley decided it was all too much again.

  I hadn’t seen or heard from Matty, and I hoped he had gone the fuck home, but I had this feeling that whatever was going on with him wasn’t done and he was still around. Great.

  My gut was telling me I wanted Harley to settle shit with her mom because I needed to settle shit with my old man. But my head was saying fuck ‘em all. Guess which part won out tonight? If my mom was still alive, I could almost hear what she’d say to this shit. A girl will never get over the loss of her mother, whether it’s an emotional loss or a physical one, they still never get over it.

  I hear you, Ma.

  Fuck, my gut also told me that this shit with Harley being one hundred was null and fucking void now. But if I let this shit sit and fester, her not dealing with it would be worse, and I’m secure in my masculinity to admit, if only to my fucking self, that Harley being happy, truly fucking happy, was my end game.

  I knew what I would have to do and as much as I fucking loathed the idea, I’d do it for her. Fuck, I was discovering I would do anything for her.

  Once last call hit, Big Mike decided to show his face for a few minutes. Normally, the fucker sits in his office doing whatever and doesn’t come on the floor until after we have closed to get the cash tills. Tonight, he wanted to hover like a fucking helicopter, but I went about my routine, closing my side while Sal took care of the remaining customers, waiting for him to say some slick shit.

  He only ambled his ass over to be nosy about who the chick was that was nursing coke all night, he didn’t give a shit about the soda; it was more like he was seeing if Harley was free pussy. I was about to read his ass when Sal called him over to her side for something. I caught her eye over his head, and she gave me a look that said don’t do it. She must have known what was about to go down had he gone anywhere near Har. Lucky fucker.

  After closing down shit and an uneventful drive home, I waited until Harley took her second shower of the night to do what I knew I would regret.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  I texted Matty and bit down hard on my back teeth in aggravation. Did I mention I fucking hated going to him for shit? I needed to know the shit storm we’d be walking into when we went back to Dacula. Yeah, we were going back. When he didn’t reply after a minute, I texted again. He was doing this fucking shit on purpose.

  “If I have to ask again, fuck it.”

  If Matty was anything, curious was it. He would hate not knowing why I’d reached out, and like the predictable bitch he is, he hit me back.

  “What the fuck do you care?”

  He was right; I didn’t.

  “These cops gonna fuck with Harley when she come home?”

  “Oh, so now you know me, cause you need me?”

  “Matty…”

  “Why didn’t you come to mom’s funeral?”

  Where the fuck had that come from? Going to a funeral to stare at my Ma who wasn’t really my Ma anymore while playing the dutiful son for the public was not on top of my fucking to do list. Besides, I had other shit going on.

  I wasn’t about to tell him that though. I was done with the idle chitchat, so I threw my phone on the bed beside me. If he wanted to tell me, he knew how.

  Harley emerged from the bathroom in another pair of my boxer briefs and a tank, and fuck if that didn’t help the conversation I’d just had with my brother to disafuckingppear.

  I wanted her. I wanted to strip off her clothes and fuck her dirty on the floor, against the wall, on the door, everywhere. I go hard at everything, including sex, and if I didn’t go hard, it made me feel inadequate or some shit. I didn’t like the feeling. I knew it was some suppressed shit of not feeling good enough for my old man growing up and I’m cool with skating right past that shit.

  But I couldn’t go hard with Harley; she wasn’t that type of chick. If I did go hard, I’d fuck around and say some shit that would hurt her more than I had earlier today. If I told her my reasons for being different, or why I always seemed pissed, it would more than likely result in tears, and I’m not entirely sure they’d all be hers.

  And I was not ready for that shit.

  I willed my dick to calm the fuck down and not jump her, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t eye the shit out of her as she climbed into bed. Shit. She did not need me to try and get it in tonight, not after her mom, and what went down in the bar bathroom and especially even after all that, she was still hiding from me.

  Chapter 5

  Harley

  You don’t love me.

  My mother’s voice was a whisper in the dark but I still felt her presence, kind of like a fading memory, not gone but not fully there.

  I do! I swear! I screamed.

  I thought I screamed it; only no sound came out. I don’t know why it was so important for me to tell her I loved her, I wasn’t sure I believed it fully myself, but I had to tell her. I wanted to scream it again, but no sound came out of my mouth.

  See, you can’t even tell me you love me. I’m dead. Her voice was fading.

  I looked for her, but all I saw was blackness. All around me was darkness so thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. The fear that I thought I’d never felt again creeped up the back of my neck, making my hair stand on my arms, my breathing quickened, and my legs began to tingle with the need to run. But where could I go? I turned frantically searching for a way out, but all around me was a black void.

  There! Far ahead of me I saw a sliver of light, faint, but it’s there, and my heart lurched at the sight. A way out. But before I could take a single step in that direction, I felt a tightness around my throat, like invisible hands; her hands, choking me, holding me back.

  You’ll always be with me. I will never leave you. Never.

  “NO!” I screamed jerking away from her hold.

  “Harley.” Hands grabbed me, and I instantly recoiled, kicking out with my feet. She can’t get me; she can’t get me.

  “Fuck, it’s me Harley!”

  “Deklan?” I stopped at the sound of his voice and nearly buckled with relief. It was just a dream, it was only a dream; she wasn’t real. My heart’s rhythm was erratic and loud in my eardrum almost deafening me. I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees trying to hold myself together.

  It was just a dream.

  “Babe?” Deklan called out, and I could feel his tension hanging in the air, and it made me feel guilty. The guilt, the weight of the dream, all of it was choking me, closing in on me. Deklan reached out again, I heard him through the dark, but he hesitated as I shrank away from him.

  “Let me help.” I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there and get lost in my thoughts. Deklan pulled me back down so that
I was sprawled across his chest and then began combing his fingers through my hair. This was new and…soothing.

  “My Ma used to do this whenever my reality crossed over to my dreams. I’d wake up pissed, the only thing I’d be able to get out was fucking tears of anger, and Ma would come in and run her hands through my hair and tell me it was just a dream. I never told her it wasn’t, but she found out.” I focused on his words, trying to calm my breathing. This was the most Deklan had ever told me about his mom, and I couldn’t help but eat this information up. He loved her, that much was very clear, and I saw how much it hurt him when she died, yet he never talked about her.

  Until now.

  “How,” I cleared the fear from my voice and asked again. “How did she find out?” This was where he usually got tight lipped and would tell me it didn’t matter or some vague non-answer, but after a minute of silence, he spoke.

  “I think she must have suspected because she started taking me with her everywhere she went instead of leaving me at home like she normally did. You’d think I hated that shit, a thirteen-year old boy tagging along with his mother to charity events, hair appointments, and all that shit, but I loved it. It was time away from my fucking old man who lived to beat the shit out of me.”

  “I got sick at school one day, and my mother couldn’t pick me up, so they called Royce. To say he hated the fact I he had to stop his afternoon to pick my ass up was an understatement. He lost his shit on me and punched me in the fucking stomach as soon as we walked in the door. Back then, I was weak as shit and didn’t fight back and he followed up with a blow to the jaw before sending me out of his sight. Turns out Ma had come home early and saw the whole thing go down.”

  My heart ached for the teenage boy and the man he was now. He didn’t have to say it, but it still affected him, it still hurt, and although I’d handled things differently than he did, our lives were eerily comparable. Deklan encompassed his abuse and used it as tool to be better at anything he did, but it made him angry. While I let my abuse cripple me, define me. I wasn’t sure which way was better, but I wanted to embrace the hurt too, not run from it.

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” I whispered, kissing his chest. I wanted him to know that I understood his hurt.

  “What was your dream about?” he asked ignoring my apology. He hated when I apologized for shit I had no control over.

  “I don’t remember,” I lied. I never got why I couldn’t be one of the many millions of people who dreamt and never remembered them. I would love not to remember my dreams, especially this one, but every time I dreamt, I always remembered it, like it was a reminder of how, even in my dreams, my life was fucked up.

  “Bullshit.” Of course, he knew I was lying.

  “I’m not sure I can go back,” I said instead, focusing on what caused the dream. It was true; I wasn’t sure I would be okay going back home. I hadn’t been home since that night and being back there in that house would just drag up old memories I’ve been trying to bury. If they resurfaced again, I wasn’t so sure I’d survive it.

  He shifted, pulling me tighter to his chest, squeezing my hip. He didn’t say anything, just gave me his support the only way he knew how. We fell asleep like that, him holding me; my dreams were held at bay for the rest of the night.

  I awoke the next morning to find that I was alone. I could hear Deklan in the other room on the phone but couldn’t make out his words or who he was talking to. I took the time to just lie there and try to gather the many thoughts in my head. That dream last night was not my normal fucked up dream; it was laced with such hatred and nastiness and it scared the shit out of me.

  Sure, my dreams normally scared me, but this one…rocked me. It was clear what my subconscious was screaming, but I ignored it. I didn’t want my monster to have control over my life anymore, but I wasn’t sure if I had a choice on the matter. It was all too much, and I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to give her more of my time or energy when she’d already taken so much from me.

  But when alone, the mind wanders to the things it wants to avoid the most.

  My fingers grazed over the still tender cut on my palm. I had discarded the Band-Aid after my shower last night, so now there was no deterrent, however small, stopping me from balling my fist around the cut and letting the sting of my nails dig into it. It should have hurt, and I guess it did a little. As it was, I had a high tolerance for pain, and the more I focused on that fact, the clearer I thought, and now I had a plan. I’d go, go, go the minute my feet touched the ground in Dacula, not giving myself a chance to stop and think. I’d do what I had to do with the police, see about cremation, and come back with Deklan.

  Easy.

  Easy.

  I unclenched my fist and went to find Deklan. I needed to shake off my dream and the guilt I felt about…everything.

  “Yeah, maybe.” He was standing at the window in low-slung jeans and nothing else, and he couldn’t be any sexier than if he were naked. This is what all the women in my romance books talk about, the unadulterated sexiness of a man you’re attracted to being a thousand times more alluring when wearing the simplest of clothing. I knew he knew I was there standing behind him, watching him, by the slight change in his stance, yet he didn’t turn around. I think he liked the fact that I watched him.

  “I don’t know, probably a week.” I leaned against the doorframe, letting my mind wander to what would have happened if that drunk guy hadn’t interrupted last night.

  “Thanks, Sal, I’ll cover your shifts for a month for this.” That turned my attention back to the conversation he was ending.

  “Why is Sal covering your shifts?” I asked. Isn’t that what couples did, ask questions like this?

  “Because I’m taking you home.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket angrily and turned to me, his look resolute. Of course, my mind went to the worst; was he done with me? Was I too much trouble for him? Was last night a lie or had I pissed him off by not telling him my dream? There were so many questions, so many possibilities and I hated that every time he said something, I had to internalize it with a million what-if scenarios that rationally I knew were stupid and pointless, but I still couldn’t stop them.

  “I’m taking you home to deal with this shit, then we are coming back here and never looking back.” I let out a relived breath, I had forgotten just that quickly that I’d asked him to come with me. But that relief was quickly replaced by dread as I focused on one word: Home. He must have read the fear in my face, and I was glad that he had because I hated having to voice them, which at this point I wasn’t comfortable doing with him. I was still afraid he’d leave me for saying something stupid.

  But his declaration just bought on a different wave of fear that I swallowed long enough to ask when we would be leaving. I needed time.

  “Tonight after I get off.” He gave me a hard kiss then escaped back in the bedroom, leaving me standing there, frozen. Tonight? I wasn’t ready, and honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever be, but I had no choice now.

  I was going back.

  Deklan

  (Stained “Epiphany”)

  This was a bad idea. I thought the shit was a bad idea before her dream but after...this was a bad fucking idea. She wasn’t ready for all this shit, but the police wouldn’t wait long, and I’d rather us go now than to be forced later.

  After her dream and her telling me she didn’t think she could go back, I was up the rest of the damn night, my mind working fucking overtime with the need to fix this shit, to help fix her and I was no closer to a solution now than I was last night. I got her not sharing a fucked up dream with people, but I needed to know what was going on inside her head. My guess is it was about her bitch ass mother, but I needed to know more.

  One thing was for damn sure; I wasn’t letting her out of my fucking sight for a minute once we got into town. No damn way. I wanted to explain to her why I was acting a fool, but the words wouldn’t come, so I settled on a kiss a little ro
ugher than normal and, after stopping in the hall closet to get a book from my chest, escaped to the bedroom. Me, running. I blame my old man. If Royce taught me anything it was how to hide my feelings, how to bury those muthafuckers because showing feeling of any kind shows weakness, and I wasn’t fucking weak.

  Getting time off had been more of a pain in my ass than I thought only because Mike was being a dick as normal. Him telling me that I might not have a job when I came back didn’t faze me in the least and, after talking with Sal and her letting slip there was talks of selling, I knew my time at the bar was about over. I thought about getting a nine to five, blue-collar working job but that shit ain’t for me. My attitude required me to be an asshole to those deserving, and if I couldn’t, I could guarantee I would explode on some undeserving fool.

  With my mind going fifty miles a fucking hour, I needed something to relax, sex was on fucking hold and even if it wasn’t, the way I was feeling called for gorilla sex, and I couldn’t do that either. Fuck.