by A. R. Breck
I don’t want to go. I really don’t even want to think about going in public anytime soon. Except, what I was talking about earlier, about trying harder, is true. I need to get better or else I will never get better.
I want to rip Cara’s hair out for forcing me out of the house. But I also want to give her a kiss for pushing me there. I don’t think I’d be leaving anytime soon if it wasn’t for her.
“Okay. I need to shower first. But, seriously. In and out. Any more than that and I’m blacklisting you from being my best friend.” I shrug out of bed and grab some leggings and an oversized sweater to wear.
“You wouldn’t dare, Rose. Now hurry. I’m craving a smoothie.”
“Shut up, Cara,” I grumble and am only barely able to conceal my half-smirk. Maybe I’ll be okay.
Maybe.
~
“Ready?” Cara stands by my front door, twirling her keys around her finger we’re heading to school, or a party, or something.
Does she not understand the apocalypse that’s currently happening inside of me right now?
“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, slipping on my flats and following her out the door. I was only outside yesterday, but it feels like ages since I’ve felt the fresh air on my skin. Yesterday when I was out, I was in complete zombie mode and didn’t focus on my surroundings, only trying to stay alive.
Maybe I’m turning into an agoraphobe.
Slipping into the passenger seat of Cara’s car, I slide down my sunglasses and grip the door handle for dear life. Please, please don't let anything happen today.
For once in my life, I’m hoping for peace.
“Jamba Juice, here we come,” Cara says as she pulls out of my driveway.
“Not planning to go to school today?” I ask, watching every single pedestrian and memorizing their movements. These people walk about their day like someone’s life hasn’t been drastically altered. Like the sun didn’t trade places with the moon.
Like I haven’t died. It feels like I might have, but somehow, my heart still beats.
“Nah. No school for me this week. Not that mother dearest could say anything about it, anyway. The school has no way to contact her.” Cara shrugs, but deep down, I know she’s hurt that her mother chose to leave with her abusive stepfather over staying with her only daughter.
“Don’t get in trouble on my account.”
“No one is getting in trouble, so shut up about it.” She cranks up the stereo, and I welcome the voices blaring through the speakers to drown out the voices blaring in my head.
I promise myself that I will get better, but how is that even possible when I don’t know where to begin?
A few minutes later, Cara takes the exit off the highway and navigates through downtown, finally arriving at Jamba Juice. “Let’s go get us some smoothies.” She rubs her hands together like an excited child. I can’t help but smile.
That smile only ends up being wiped clean off my face when I look out the window at all the people lingering about. “Wait.” I even slap the lockdown for good measure.
“What? What is it?” Cara’s voice turns concerned.
“There are way too many people out there. Can you get my drink for me? You know what I like.” I slink back in my seat to get comfortable.
“No. No way. You need to get out there at some point. Is it soon? Yes, of course. But when will be long enough, honestly? The pain will always be there, you just have to learn how to overcome it. Trust me.”
I look up at her, concerned on a whole new level. “Trust you? Have you…”
“No, well, not that exactly. My stepdad threw me around enough, though, where I became scared to do anything for a while. I felt like everyone, or anyone might slap me around just for the heck of it. I was a recluse for like the entire junior year. But doing that isn't going to help anyone, mostly yourself. Get your ass out there and go get yourself a fucking smoothie.” She hits the unlock button with a whack of her hand and gets out of the car.
I’m a lot more hesitant about getting out of the car myself. I walk close to Cara and don’t let anyone get too close to me. With the line being relatively short in here, we’re quick to get up to the register and place our orders. Once we receive our drinks and pay, we start walking back out to Cara’s car.
I count my steps in my head for every cement square I walk over on the sidewalk. It’s helping me stay focused and keep my mind off the hundreds of people walking around the city this time of the day.
I’m about to step off the curb when I see a figure walking towards me. A tall, lean man with his hoodie up and face down. I can't see what he looks like, but how he walks, and his stature looks so eerily similar to Corey’s that I freeze.
My smoothie falls out of my hands and gravity is out to get me because half of it comes back up and soaks my clothes in a pink slush.
“Rose! What is it?” Cara runs over to me and instinctively grabs onto my forearm.
I yank my arm back, and my eyes go wide like saucers. I can’t speak, and I can barely breathe.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Shit. What? What happened? Please talk to me.” Panic is clear as day in her voice. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
The strange man who looks like Corey’s twin glances up at the commotion in front of him, and that’s when I see he looks nothing like Corey. Not even close. “Is everything okay here?” His voice, too, sounds nothing like Corey’s.
The panic eases in my chest as Cara says, “Um, yeah. I think so. Rose? Are you okay?” I nod my head as I stare at the man in front of me, every second coming back down closer to reality.
Corey isn’t here. Corey is dead. Long gone and never coming back.
Cara apologizes and says goodbye to the man, and I look down at my ruined outfit, cold and starting to stick to my stomach. I let out a sigh and walk up to Cara’s car. Once I hear the click of the door unlocking, I throw open the door and hop in, grabbing the seat belt and with shaky hands, barely able to make it into the slot.
“What happened out there?” Cara says a moment later when she hops into the car.
Now that I’m in the confines of the car, my voice seems to have finally returned. “I don’t know. I thought he was, you know, him.”
Her chin trembles as she looks at me. “Rose, listen to me. Corey is dead. He’s dead, and Easton, Logan, and Jackson made fucking sure of it. You don’t have to worry about that asshole ever again. Do you hear me?” She angrily wipes a tear off her cheek as she awaits my response.
I nod my head.
“Maybe you weren’t ready to go out yet.”
“Nope, definitely not ready.”
~
When I arrive home, Cara becomes quiet and says she can’t stay and that she’ll talk to me later. I look at her, confused as I get out of the car, but then I see why. Easton, sitting on my front step. The heavy frown that shapes his mouth looks like it’s been cemented there for a while. I can feel his irritation from here, and it makes tension build up in my chest.
“Where the fuck were you?” Easton growls when I get close enough. “And what the fuck happened to you?” He points at my shirt with a snarl.
I look down and see the dried goop, which honestly doesn’t smell that great anymore. “I spilled my drink.”
“Where did you even go?” His patience is thin, and I think he’s barely holding onto what’s left of it.
“Cara dragged me to Jamba.”
He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a huff of a laugh. “Fucking, Cara.”
“Don’t be mad at her. She was just trying to help.”
“I’m not—no, I am fucking mad. What was she thinking bringing you out so soon?”
My irritation instantly rises. “Seriously, Easton? I’m not a fucking dog. No, I didn’t want to go out. But if I did, that would have been my choice. Not yours.”
“No, you’re not. But some serious shit just went down. Do you really think you’re ready to go out and interact with people? Your b
ody is half bruised, and your voice is still fucked up.”
I bring my hand up to my cheek and feel my swollen eye. I wince and pull my hand away when I feel the bruise. Without actually touching it, I forgot it was there. I bet every person I walked by, including twin Corey, must have thought I was an absolute lunatic with my black eye and Jamba shirt.
“No, I obviously wasn’t ready. Look at my clothes!” I gesture to my ruined sweater, embarrassment, shame, and anger sticking to my body just like this old smoothie.
“What happened?” He snaps out of his irritation and immediately becomes concerned.
“Nothing.” I try to walk around him to my front door, but he blocks my step.
“Move out of my way, Easton. I’m not in the mood.”
“What the fuck happened, Rose? It just so happens that I’m not really in the mood, either.”
I glare at him. I’m not getting into my house until I tell him what happened. “It was all a mix-up. I got my smoothie and was walking back to Cara’s car when I thought I saw Corey.”
“What?” He roars.
“It wasn't, obviously. I just thought it was and froze. Then this happened.” I pinch my sweater and bring it away from my stomach. “I’m going inside. I need to shower and change.” I walk around him, and this time he lets me.
Unlocking the door, I walk in and beeline straight towards the bathroom. I’ve never been one to have anxiety, but today is showing me I’m not immune to it, and I’m not indestructible.
Ripping off my sweater, I turn the squeaky knobs of the shower and stand in the middle of the bathroom, watching the room fill up with steam.
“Rose.” Easton’s voice sounds sad. Nearly as broken as I feel.
I turn around to face him, and I almost break at the sadness I see showing in his face. His usual stern scowl, angry features, and wall always built to the highest mountain are broken down. In its place is something I’m too scared to name.
If there is someone or something that could completely obliterate me. It’s this man in front of me.
“Rose.” He says my name again, husky, raw, and pure Easton.
My Reaper.
He steps forward, and I step back.
One more step forward, and I’m up against the wall. Panic seeps in because the idea of being trapped anywhere is enough to make blackness seeps into my vision.
“Breathe, Rose. It’s just me. There is no one here right now except you, and me.” He blocks me in up against the wall, giving me enough room to breathe, but not nearly enough. I try to do what he says, taking slow breaths.
Looking into his eyes, he grounds me. He keeps me here on earth. I’m not scared when he’s around. Even now, when I can barely breathe, when blackness floats across my vision, Easton keeps me centered.
“Just you and me,” I wheeze.
He leans in and seizes my breath. Takes away all the air left in my lungs as he brushes his lips against mine. My body feels torn in two. Half of me wants to rip my lips from his and flee to the confines of my bedroom, and the other half of me wants to let go of this terror that has ahold of my body and give in to him.
Go back to how things were.
But I will never be that person again. That person who scoffs at what someone wears, or sneers at someone with lesser money than I have. I can’t be that person anymore, because I’m not that person. I’ve changed, and Easton still stands here through it all. He gives me the look of hope and wonder and kisses me with such a gentle touch that I know, deep down in the pit of my soul, that he will never hurt me.
He will only protect me.
Not one part of his body touches mine except for his lips. His arms caged around me have enough distance from my body to keep my sanity intact. After what feels like a century, but also only a second, Easton releases my lips and steps back. “Don’t fight me, Rose. I won’t let you become some shell of a person. You’re not that person. You’re strong, and you're going to fight whatever the fuck you're going through and get through it.” He takes a step back into the hallway and glances at me. “And I'm going to help you every step of the fucking way to the finish line. So, don’t leave me behind, Rose. Take your fucking shower. I will be in the bedroom waiting for you.” And with that, he closes the bathroom door and leaves me in silence.
~
When I enter my bedroom, I see Easton sprawled out on my bed, scrolling through his phone. The moment he notices me, he drops his phone down on his stomach.
“Feel better?” He asks as he sits up.
“Yeah.”
“You smell better, too.” He smirks at me, and I let out a small laugh.
How is it he can pull a laugh out of me, even now?
“So,” He starts. “I didn’t think you would want to leave the house, and as pissed as I am that you went without me, I’m glad you got out there. We’ve got some plans tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sleeping.” The shower that I just had made my exhaustion triple. I can’t believe I haven’t slept in over a day. My eyes hurt and I feel like I can sleep for a century.
“Yeah, no. You’re going to get some good as hell rest tonight, and tomorrow, I'm going to teach you how to shoot.”
“Shoot what, like a gun?” I scoff. “Yeah, right.” My eyes are drooping lower by the second, and I know that it will only be a matter of minutes before I finally crash.
“You, me, and Jackson are all going to go out to the range tomorrow. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself and protect yourself. I hope you never have to actually use the skills, but if anything ever happens to you again, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. So, yes, tomorrow we’re going to go and shoot some shit, learn some shit, and figure out how to beat someone down if they ever try to fuck with you.”
“You’re bossy.” That’s about as much fighting I have in me at this point.
“No, shit.”
“Maybe I don’t want to learn how to shoot a gun.” I climb up in my bed and slide underneath the covers. Easton sits on the other side of the bed as he cocks an eyebrow at me.
“I don’t care. It’s for your safety.”
“I have you to protect me.” My eyes close, and it feels like glue instantly seals them together. No chance in opening them.
“I need to know that if there is ever a time I’m not around, you can protect yourself.”
“Mmm.”
“Good. It’s settled.” The cockiness in his voice would make me slap him if I had the energy. Or if I could touch people willingly.
“I hate you.” I half mumble a half slur.
“No, you love me.”
“Yeah.”
Chapter Seven
She might just end up killing me, but fuck it would be an okay way to die.
Easton
I think the world tilted on its axis last night when Rose fell asleep.
Why the fuck did I tell her she loved me. Logan and his stupid ass were putting these thoughts in my head. I blurted them out because apparently, I want to stick a knife in my neck and bleed out all over her faded carpet. That’s what it felt like, at least.
Does she love me? Do I even love her?
I’m not sure what I feel exactly. All I know is, she’s the first person in my life that’s made me want to be someone better than what I already am.
I don’t think I’ve said the word love out loud since before my mom left. It’s been years. Many, many years. I can barely even open my mouth and let the words glide across my tongue without choking on my spit.
Maybe though, they will slide out with ease when I utter the words to Rose.
If I utter them to Rose.
Rolling onto my side on her uncomfortable as fuck floor, I watch as she sleeps peacefully on her bed. Last night when she was walking up the steps after Cara dropped her off, she looked completed defeated. Tired, sad, and fucking wilted like an unwatered rose. I was happy when she fell asleep, glad that she was able to find herself some rest in the turmoil of her life.
Me, not so
much. I could barely function, let alone fall asleep last night. I spent most of the minutes either watching Rose or tossing and turning, playing her yeah on repeat over and over again.
The rustling of sheets snaps me out of my pussy feelings that I refuse to admit out loud.
Real winner over here.
“Morning.” I sit up and watch as her dream fades, and reality comes to light. I watch every emotion pass through her features.
Happiness, fear, pain, anger, and then sadness.
I vow to take that sadness away and blow that shit to pieces. Replace it with hope, healing, and all that other good shit that makes her stronger.
Bet.
“Morning.” She rasps to me. Her voice sounds better this morning. A little off, but it seems like it’s slowly healing.
“How’d you sleep?”
“No dreams, thankfully. So, pretty good.” She smiles at me, but it falls flat. She doesn’t want to dream because she knows she’s going to dream about that shithead.
“It’ll get better, Rose.”
“You sure about that?” She looks lost as she lays there and runs her fingers through her hair. Fuck, how much I wish I could do that to her.
As lost and afraid she looks right now, I have to say I’ve never seen her look more stunning. Her t-shirt and sweatpants might hide the sexiest curves I’ve ever seen, but in no way does it take away from how beautiful she looks lying there.
Her pain is beautiful. Raw. Real.
“I’m sure about it, Rose. Do I have to worry about your mom barging in here this morning?” I don’t remember her coming home last night, but she could have just been quiet.
She glances out the window at the driveway. “Doesn’t look like she’s even here. She must have spent the night at her boyfriend’s house.” She rolls her eyes at that.
“Don’t worry about that. What you need to worry about is getting your ass ready for the day. We’ve got some shooting to do.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere today, Easton.” She rolls over and curls under her covers.
“I don’t care, Rose.”
