“Back to the motel, you should get your things,” she said a little grudgingly. I wasn’t sure if she was upset because she had to take me or she didn’t want to run into Matt. I had been obsessing over if Deklan’s things were still there, or if he had come back after I’d left. Suddenly, I became nervous to know the answers to those things. I didn’t want to know that it was all over and I stayed quiet the entire fifteen minutes it took to get there. The clutter and chaos in my head just got louder the closer we got, and the overwhelming urge to do something only amplified when we turned into the motel, and I saw that his car was missing from the spot he usually parked in.
He hadn’t come back, and he wasn’t missing me.
“You don’t have to come in; I’ll just be in and out really quickly,” I said, dejectedly as I climbed out and got my key card that Ember had had enough sense to swipe last night from my pocket.
“I’m really sorry, Harley. He didn’t give me much of a choice in bringing you here. I love you, and I’ll be right here,” she said as she stared past me at the door. I knew, my entire being knew, could sense him, feel his intensity, his power over my body, and how it responded knowing he was close. But that still didn’t stop me from inhaling deeply as I turned to look into the hard gray eyes that were waiting for me.
He was here.
Deklan
(P!nk “Great Escape”)
My palms were sweaty as shit and my heart was beating so fast it made me jumpy.
I was nervous.
I hadn’t gotten nervous since I was little kid, thinking I could hide out in my closet from Royce. But now, seeing Harley standing in front of me, eyes wide and shit, looking scared and lost, I was as nervous as a sinner on judgment day. Biblical shit, that’s how nervous I was.
I saw Ember posted up in her car giving me the evil eye. I couldn’t give two shits that I told her if she didn’t bring me my fucking girl I would tell her mom where her husband really was every Thursday night when he was supposed to be with her. Half the dirty bitches in this fucking town know her old man, who just so happens to be the mayor, has an attraction for anyone that’s not his wife, but her mom is clueless as shit according to my gossiping ass little brother.
After I lost my shit a little at not finding Harley in our room, I called Matty so he could tell me where Ember lived. Only that asshole showed up wasted and didn’t stop blabbing until he passed the fuck out.
Most of it was useless shit about how he was tired of living the perfect life, and how much he missed Ember, but there was one useful bit of info he said. Mom had a trust set up for us before she died, apart from Royce’s money and apparently, we were both half a million dollars richer. I knew exactly how I was going to spend it too. I kicked his ass out after getting Ember’s number and pulled some shit together. Now it was go time.
Harley walked slowly over to me, and I moved out of the doorway to let her pass. I threw Ember a look and closed the door before turning to her as she eyed her razor lying out on the bed. Yeah, I had torn shit up looking for it, and turns out it was right under my fucking nose. No matter, it was out in the open now, and I wasn’t sure if she started breathing heavier because we were going to face this shit or if she needed a fix, a cut or whatever.
“Kick it up.” I said as I picked up the razor, turning it over in my hand. It was small and light; it looked like a blade from a razor but without the plastic casing. I laughed bitterly to myself because that’s exactly what it was. Fuck, I had even given her the means to do this shit right under my nose. She sat, still looking scared as shit and refused to meet my eyes. I knew what she probably thought. It’s what any other person would do. Walk away and let someone else deal with this shit because this shit...
But I wasn’t any other person, and Harley was mine. I’d do anything to keep her, fight anyone for her, including herself.
“Just say it,” she said dejectedly while she stared at her feet. She looked as bad as I felt. Last night had been fucking rough and an eye opener. I thought my life was level, fucked whenever and whoever I wanted, and only looked out for myself. Then Harley came, and it made me feel important. I was important to her and without her, shit; it sucked without her.
I couldn’t seem to remember how the fuck I functioned before she came into my life. It was now or never. Fuck, here goes nothing. I sat on the bed across from her and lifted the razor to my forearm, took a deep breath, and sliced my skin.
“Fuck,” I hissed out. That’s what that felt like? She did that shit more than once, and I doubt she cursed like a fucking baby at the pain.
Her head snapped up. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” she asked as she grabbed some tissue from the table and kneeled in front of me, patting my arm.
“Are you?” I challenged. I wasn’t trying to be a dick, more like making a point.
“What?” She stilled and stared at me.
“Are you crazy? I’m only doing what you did.” Again, I wasn’t trying to be a dick, it just came out like that. She slowly shook her head and sat back on her haunches, letting the tissue fall from her hands. At first, I thought she was going to cry, but then another look entirely settled on her face, and that shit took me by shock. Anger
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, her face clouding over. I have never seen Harley angry, but it affected me enough that on another day and another time, I’d have to make her angry again then do something about it. Focusing on her eyes, I called her on her shit.
“So you’re a mind reader, tell me what’s going on in my head?”
“Can you stop being suck a dick? I know…”
“You don’t know shit, Harley.” I cut her off, and that could have been what set her off, or it could have just been the series of events that led to her losing her shit on me.
“I don’t?” She got up and started pacing. “I don’t know how it feels to have the shit kicked out of you for simply asking for some milk? Or having to stay awake the whole night because you were too terrified to go to sleep, only to go to school the next day.” She paced harder, her hands flying in the air the more worked up she got. I rose from the bed, waiting.
“I don’t know the exact position to lay so that when I’m being punched, it misses vital organs?” she continued ranting.
“I get it, you had a tough life, join the fucking club.” I cut her off; this time I was trying to be an asshole, I had a purpose though.
She stopped in front of me, and for a split second, I saw hurt cross her face, but then it was replaced with lividness as she slapped me. Shit stung, but I’ve been hit before.
“No! Because it’s not fair!” She screamed, hitting me in the chest and arms. You know how you see chicks in the movies come to some sort realization and all the shit they’d been letting pile up just explodes? I wanted her to let all that shit out, better on me than herself.
“Get the T-shit babe, life ain’t fair.” I antagonized her on purpose, she needed to let go of all that anger, stop turning that shit on herself. I’m a fucking poster child on anger, but this shit wasn’t about me.
“You want to hurt me?” I asked as I grabbed both her hands in mine, stopping her assault. Time to put this shit to bed.
“No, I loved you,” she cried. “But you left me, and I tried to hate my mother, but I didn’t. I don’t, even though I should, even though she didn’t love me. She was all I had.”
“She’s not,” I said, pulling her closer to me and placing her hand over my heart. “You’ve got this.” She looked up at with doubtful eyes, not trying to believe what I was trying to punk my way out of saying. Fuck it, she has me scared enough to dig deep and find that sensitive little boy I once was before Royce hardened me to life.
“You fucking own me, Harley. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” My words were like magic, making the doubt clear her eyes only to be replaced with that small spark of something I had seen a few days ago. Now it wasn’t so small, and god, she was smiling, and it made my heart swell more whe
n she threw her arms around me. I hugged her close, closer than I’ve ever hugged anything before because this girl, this amazing, beautiful wounded girl, was my girl.
Harley
(P!nk “Love Song”)
A sense of calmness came over me that I didn’t have five minutes ago. Somewhere in between the loss and hurt I was feeling when I stepped into this room, was anger. Anger that grew at Deklan’s actions and especially his words. I was angry at my mom, at Ryan, at Deklan, and at the world because I didn’t deserve all the shit I’d been dealt. It was just this side of fucked up that it took me seeing Deklan cut himself and saying all that shit to me to get me to finally see what he saw. What he could never tell me before with his words.
Like him to me, I was his breath.
He loved me like I loved him.
Hearing him confess it, say the words, opened up a part of me that had been buried under all the scar tissue I had and left me raw. I dragged my mouth over his face, chest, and arms, all the places that I’d hit him earlier.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling stupid because I let self-pity and my past almost damage my future.
“Baby,” he lifted my chin to look him in the eyes; eyes that I could clearly see now were filled with love for me. “You’re angry or pissed, cool. Take that shit out on them, fuck take it out me, but don’t take it out on yourself.” The kiss started slow and probing, but I had spent almost 24 hours thinking that I’d never feel his lips on mine, never touch him again, and it was like my body felt it needed to make up for lost time. I wiggled closer, backing him up until we landed on the bed, me on top and his arms locked around me.
“Fuck, I missed you. I’m sorry I was an asshole.” He breathed in between kisses, and I pulled back, shocked.
“What?” he asked at my puzzled look.
“Wow, that’s the second time you’ve apologized to me; you must love me,” I teased. Truthfully, I just wanted to hear him say it. I would probably always want him to say it.
“Don’t fish, just ask,” he said with a knowing look.
I blushed. “Tell me you love me.” It sounded weird asking him, but it didn’t stop it from rolling off my tongue.
“Tell me you’ll get help,” he demanded. Way to kill the mood because I was not expecting that.
“What?” I furrowed my brows and pulled myself up from his chest. Okay it wasn’t like I didn’t know that I probably should get help because as happy as I was right now, it would only take a look or a fight between me and Deklan to send me spiraling right back down. And I knew that he wouldn’t be able to give me the help I needed, not alone.
Maybe if my mother had gotten the help she needed then she wouldn’t have done all that horrible shit to me. I have no doubt that she didn’t have an easy life. I was well versed on child abuse to know that it’s a learned behavior, and she had to have gotten it from somewhere. It scared me, thinking about talking about my past, and what I’ve done scared me so much because I’d have to face things that I’m trying, and failing, to forget.
My vison started going in and out, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was in full on panic attack mode, but then I felt Deklan’s warm and steady hand cup my face while he placed his other one over my heart.
“I got this babe, relax.” Magic. Words.
I placed my palm over his heart, the one I knew belonged to me and mirrored his words then, even though I knew the answer, I still had to make sure.
“Will you help me?” He knew what I was asking, and it solidified my feelings for him when he didn’t hesitate to answer. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll get better.” I said it and I knew, felt it just as hard as I felt my love for Deklan that it was true. I would get better.
“I love you.” He pulled me down for a kiss finally, kicking up our desire once more, and showing me how much he loved me.
Epilogue
I scratched at the cut on my hand and thought back four weeks ago when I’d made it, what I’d been feeling, and how so much has changed since then. If I had known that the healing cut would itch so much, I might not have done it. I wish I could say that I’d go back and change things, make better choices, but if I did that then I wouldn’t be where I’m at today and things wouldn’t be so…perfectly normal. I adjusted my shirt since it was rubbing on my healing tattoo.
I know, a tattoo. It was a part of my ‘do normal shit’ list that Deklan had made for me, a sort of welcome to life thing he thought of when I told him I didn’t really know how to live. Deklan had thought I wanted something girly like a butterfly or birds but when I actually told him what I wanted, he surprised me by getting one too.
The smile on my face could be seen from Mars. I thought he was getting something for his mom. He said it was no big deal when I saw the ‘You’ve got this’ inked over his heart, but it was a huge deal. HUGE! As far as I’m concerned, that’s a part of the ‘Do normal shit because you’re in love’ list that Deklan didn’t know about. I’d had that list since being in love was a state I decided I wanted to live in.
I shifted on the chair I was sitting in, trying to pick out one thought from the many racing in my head. It was number one on Deklan’s list: see a therapist. I came twice a week, and every time I still got scared walking through the front door. One day it won’t be so scary to delve into the past, and I’m finding that I actually like my therapist, Karen. She’s from Austria and has a slight accent, and from the very first session with her, she put me at ease. Although we hadn’t dealt with the cutting yet, I knew she didn’t think I was crazy for doing what I had done. I liked that. “Sometimes I get sad,” I whispered, like saying it quietly would make it any less true. “Like really sad. Sad enough to where I wish…I wish that I had never called Deklan, and he’d never saved me.”
I hadn’t known it until I said it how true that was. I wish it wasn’t. I wish I could say that I didn’t really want to die that night, but I did. I remember that I was thinking about something I read once that said dying was the easy part; it’s living that’s hard. At the time, all I could think about was that my living was hard for as long as I could remember, and I had just wanted something easy.
“Is that why you cut, to finish what you started that night?” she asked me in a voice only belonging to someone trained to make their voice sound like that could. Soothing but questioning.
“No.” What was I supposed to say, that I cut because the pain helps me? I’m addicted to it, to the feeling it gives me, how it reminds me of the pain I had with my mother because that’s all I knew? How can I tell her why without her thinking I was fucking crazy? I thought I was crazy.
She didn’t ask me to elaborate on my reply; she just sat there in an uncomfortable silence and waited. I hated silence, I think most people who came to this kind of office did, but the silence did what it made everyone do; it made me think and talk.
“I get sad, and then I feel guilty because I’m sad, like I shouldn’t have anything to be sad for. I have a boyfriend, a place to live, and I am safe and wanted. But I feel guilty because I don’t think I deserve any of that. I don’t think that I’ve done anything remarkable to be awarded these things. I feel detached. Like I’m going to wake up one day and realize that Deklan, me moving, my mother dying, finding out who my father is, was all a dream and I am still back in my room back home living the same lifeless life.” Once I started, I couldn’t stop, needing to get this all off my chest.
“I’m afraid to live.” There it was, the real truth under all the bullshit that I hid behind.
“Why?” she asked tilting her head to the side like all therapists did.
I shrugged, because if I knew that, I wouldn’t need to be sitting on her too comfy couch would I?
“I think you do,” she accused softly.
I thought about it for a minute because I don’t think that I had actually given it much thought until now. Yes, I’d daydreamed of what my life could be like and what I’d do once I was ‘free’ but I never thought
that that day would come, so it was safe to dream, safe to wonder. And when I finally had the opportunity….
“I think…” I said, clearing my throat. “Because I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.” I was shocked that was actually true. I had been told for so long how much I sucked and meeting Deklan and his need for me, his love even then I think I felt it…it scared me because…
“You didn’t think you’ll be good at living because you have never done it?” she asked, reading my thought pattern like all therapists seem to be able to do. I couldn’t be defensive or shut down because she was right.
I nodded. “Harley, what do you think you have been doing so far?” she asked gently and gave me a pointed look as I gave her blank one.
“Everything that you do in your life right now, do you enjoy it?” she asked. And I ran through a typical day for myself. Waking up to Deklan’s kisses, which I enjoyed, talking to Ember minus the fifteen minutes of Matt bashing, I enjoyed that too. My job at the library was growing on me and the before bed sex I really, really enjoyed. Blushing slightly, I nodded, afraid my voice would give away how that last thought had turned me on.
“That’s what living is Harley, doing things that we enjoy. It sounds to me that you have been doing just that.”
Hum, I guess I had been. Granted, it was rough, but even in the rough times, I still did things I enjoyed, reading and working. It’s funny how it takes some licensed stranger to tell you something about your life that was there all along.
“Our time is up for today, but I’ll see you same time next week. And Harley?”
I looked up from smoothing out my skirt, feeling…I don’t know, lighter maybe? I had a long way to go; I wasn’t cutting anymore, I hadn’t cut since that night Deklan cut himself in front of me. I know why he did it, and it worked because every time I even thought about it, I pictured him doing it, and I couldn’t. But the urge was still there sometimes, and she was helping me know the difference of needing Deklan to claim me and wanting him to. Of course, Deklan argued with her logic, but I hadn’t stopped our sex life so he was cool. Sometimes, I felt it was all a waste of time, but on days like today, I was glad that I had made this choice, because days like today, I felt normal and not so damaged.
Hurt Me: A 'Me' Novel Page 18
