by Saylor Bliss
“Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to rub it?”
“I don’t think it would help. I’m fine, baby. Swear.”
“Okay.” I drop it, even though I don’t want to. I can tell he’s worried about it and I want him to talk to me, but if he doesn’t want to, then I’m not going to push him. Remembering the injury to his shoulder reminded me of everything else that has happened since then, though, and how we still need to talk about his coming home with a stripper, and Camryn being alive and serving me with papers.
Hesitation causes me to hold off on filing the paperwork to terminate Camryn's parental rights. It's almost like I feel sorry for him. Sorry for myself. Sorry for the fact he is virtually unable to step up and be the man he is supposed to be. I hate it, all of it.
Kip has been so understanding, but I don't know how long that will last. His support seems never-ending, but I don't truly know how he feels about me. He seems to love me, to care, and his actions speak volumes, but I long for the words to be spoken.
Validation—that’s what I need. I need to know it’s not just pity because he thought his brother was dead and now his brother is a douche. I need to know that he'll still be around after the baby is born, but I'm afraid to push the issue. I'm afraid of hearing the wrong answer.
Kips head falls to the side. The day and the painkillers have finally taken their toll on him. I grab the pizza box and our empty bottles and ease out of bed, careful not to wake him up. He looks so peaceful like this. I wish I had my phone so I could snap a picture of him to use on my lock screen, but I don’t know where the hell I left it last night.
After dumping our trash in the bin, I go to the refrigerator to grab some milk and a few—oh hell, let’s be honest, a sleeve of cookies, and I hear a knock on the door. I jump a mile in the air, and it takes everything in me to keep from crying out.
Shutting the refrigerator door, I flick on the back porch light so that I can see outside. It’s Camryn. I haven't had any contact with him since he left the hospital, and he looks even worse now than he did then. The normally perfectly groomed man who I was so accustomed to seeing when we were dating is all but gone, replaced by a scrawny, frail man who looks like he's just come off a bender, and the smell of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and sex make my stomach turn.
"Camryn?"
"Skila, I need to talk to you."
I open the door to allow him in. I have no idea what he's up to, but I really wish Kiptyn was awake now. Everything about this feels wrong. I can’t explain it. Camryn’s eyes dart around the room, never staying in one spot for more than a second at a time.
“Listen, Skila, I need you to come with me.”
“Come with you? Where, Camryn? It's ten at night.”
“I know, I know, but they aren’t watching. I can get you out.”
“Camryn, what are you talking about?”
“You need to come with me. You’re not safe. No one is safe.”
“Camryn, you’re scaring me. Who’s not safe? Who’s not watching?”
“It's not important right now. We need to go.” He reaches for my arm, but I pull back before he can grab me. He spins like he didn’t mean to try to grab me and takes two steps toward the kitchen.
“It’s nice here. You’ll be happy here,” he says, changing the subject so fast I have a hard time keeping up.
“Unplug the televisions and the internet. Hurry,” he says, spinning back around. I press my back against the wall, trying to get as far away from him as I can while easing my way back down the hall to the bedroom . . . to Kip. He notices.
“Skila, we have to go now.”
“Okay. Just let me get Kip. KIPTYN,” I yell down the hall. Camryn jumps forward and presses his hand against my mouth. He isn’t hurting me, but I'm terrified. My heart is pounding so hard that I feel like it might beat straight out of my chest any moment.
“NO. He’s one of them. You can't trust him,” he mutters.
I can hear Kiptyn as he crawls from the bed. His feet hit the floor. He calls my name, but I can't answer him.
“SKILA,” he calls again, louder, more urgent, and he turns to come down the hall. When he sees Camryn, he relaxes for a split second before he realizes what’s happening.
“Camryn, what the fuck are you doing? Get your hands off her now.” The fury in his voice makes my knees go weak. Camryn removes his hand from my mouth, but he doesn’t let me go.
“Run to the bedroom. Lock the door. Don’t open it,” Camryn whispers into my ear. I nod my head, letting him know that I'll do what he’s asking. He lets me go, and I rush past Kip, running straight to our room. The only thing I see before I slam the door shut is Camryn attacking Kiptyn and Kip hitting the floor.
I pray I can hold it together long enough to do what I need to do. Searching through the bag on the floor by my side of the bed, I find my cellphone and pull it out as fast as I can. My light is blinking red, signaling low battery. Please, just last long enough. I dial 911 and hit call. They pick up immediately and ask me the nature of my emergency.
I try to slow my racing heart enough to spit out as many detail as I can. The lady on the other end tells me to stay on the phone until a uniformed officer arrives. I sit on the edge of the bed. My entire body is shaking. I can’t stop replaying the image of Kip falling to the ground, with Camryn over top of him.
“Please, God, let him be okay,” I pray.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kiptyn
When Skila runs past me, my heart drops. I can’t imagine what the hell Camryn could have said to her to make her run from me, and then his fist hits me, and I can’t think about it anymore because I’m too busy concentrating on keeping him from pummeling me to death. Not being able to use my left arm puts me at one hell of a disadvantage, but I still outweigh him by at least sixty pounds. So once I get him flipped over, there isn’t much he can do.
A few minutes later, red and blue lights invade my driveway, and Skila’s reason for running makes sense. Someone knocks on the door, but I can’t get up to answer it, so I wait, and sure enough, they manage to let themselves in.
“FREEZE, ARMS IN THE AIR.” The house suddenly seems so much smaller now with fifteen armed cops standing over me, all of them with their weapons drawn and aimed straight at me.
“Officer, wait,” I hear, and once again, my beautiful midnight goddess is trying to save me. If I didn’t think I’d get shot for it, I’d kiss her right now.
“Are you the one who called?” the officer in charge asks, and Skila nods, setting her phone on the counter. She looks scared half to death.
“Do you know this man?” he asks her, gesturing to me. She nods again.
“He’s my boyfriend. We live . . . this is his house. That is his brother, the one I called about,” she says, looking back at Camryn, who is now curled in a ball on the floor, sobbing into his hands.
I don’t know what the hell happened to my brother, but I know for a fact that the man on the floor in front of me is no longer him. He’s a shell of the man he used to be. Hell, he isn’t even that—he’s more like a shadow of him. The officer tells me to lower my hands and asks us what happened while another assists Camryn to his feet. He slips a pair of handcuffs from his waistband, and as soon as the first one clicks closed on Camryn’s wrist, he comes alive.
It’s amazing that someone as malnourished as he is could toss another man around the way he did. I watch as another officer and then two more join in the tussle.
“CAMRYN, STOP,” I scream at the top of my lungs, and he stops fighting them. His hands drop to his sides, one wrist still handcuffed, but no one dares try to cuff the other behind his back.
“You can’t take him to jail,” I say, interrupting the officer who is explaining something to Skila. Sky looks over at me sharply, and I can see the pity and the sadness in her eyes, but at this moment, I don’t care. There is no way in hell I'll let my brother spend a night behind bars. Whatever tiny hold on sanity he still has won't allow
it.
If he can’t handle handcuffs, I know being held behind bars will break him. I just pray the cops on the scene don’t try to press charges for his resisting arrest. I don’t care what the hell just happened here. It’s clear he’s fucked up and needs help. Thank God I’ve got my attorney on speed dial.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Ms. Parker called, so if she wants to press charges, then we have to take him in.”
I glance at Skila, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at Camryn. I wish I could see her face. I want to see into her eyes and read the look on her face so I can be better prepared for how she plans to handle this situation. She’s not a mean, hateful person by any means, but Camryn threatened her and her unborn child. What other choice does she have? I open my mouth to beg her not to do this to him. To not do this to me, but I don’t get the chance.
“No. I don’t want to press charges. Thank you.” I pull her to me then and kiss the side of her face. She’s still shaking against me. I can feel her body vibrate against my own. I hate every bit of this. I want to protect her from every single harmful thing and person in this world, but sometimes that’s just not possible.
“Thank you, baby,” I whisper against the side of her face, my lips still buried in her long, silky hair. I don’t want to ever let this woman go. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as pure and genuine as her, but I'll continue to thank God for her daily.
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him. My God, Kip, what happened over there?” She asks, turning to me and burying her head in my chest. I cradle her there, protecting her while I can.
“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”
“I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but he clearly needs attention. I suggest contacting the local mental health hospital for an evaluation.”
Skila pulls back and turns to face the officer that spoke. Her voice is even and polite, but I can feel the fury underneath. He had no right to put his two cents into the situation, and judging by the way he shuffles from foot to foot, he can feel her unleashed wrath as well. If there is one thing I’ve learned over the last few months, it's that you don’t piss off a woman, especially a pregnant woman. Their fury knows no bounds.
I pull her back against me and wrap my arms around her stomach, lacing my fingers together in front of her navel. She places her hand on my arm, her nails biting into the skin there.
“Is there any way you can get him transported there tonight? I mean, I don’t want to have to worry about him hurting himself all night,” Skila says, putting an emphasis on ‘himself’.
She isn’t worried for herself or me; she’s worried about Camryn. I should have known she would be. She always cares about everyone else around her, even when they least deserve it. What the rookie cop said makes sense, though, even if I hate it. There is something going on with Camryn, something that I can’t see or fix, but I can get him the help he needs.
“Yes, ma’am. I can arrange transport, but a family member will need to follow us down to sign some paperwork,” he says, regaining some confidence when Sky doesn’t attack. She nods her head against my chest and eases off me.
“I’ll go. Just let me grab my keys,” I say, running my hands down her arms.
“I’m coming too. Don’t ask me to stay, Kiptyn. I’m going.”
She looks so serious, like I would turn her away. Having her by my side gives me the strength to carry on when I don’t know how I'll take another step. I need her. Doesn’t she know that?
“Okay,” I say and run to grab my keys.
The officer said transport would be there in about ten minutes, and I need to change clothes. Skila is still standing there in her pajamas, but she wouldn’t come into the bedroom with me. She’s waiting with Camryn, keeping him calm while I change, and then we’ll rotate so she can get dressed. It's one of the hundred million things I love about her, the way she always thinks about others’ needs and how she can help make them more comfortable. My brother practically held her hostage an hour ago, and now she’s standing in our front room waiting with him so he isn’t lonely or uncomfortable. She’s amazing.
When the white van pulls up the long drive, it doesn’t take long to realize that making Camryn ride in there alone is going to take an act of God. Thankfully, Skila is able to convince them to let us take him to the hospital on our own. We have to sign a release saying that we’re responsible for him until he arrives at the hospital, but I don’t mind. Skila coaxes him into the car with ease and grace, and within ten minutes, my driveway is cleared of all emergency personnel and we are on our way downtown.
The ride is quiet, and Camryn is lost in his own world, staring out the window with glassy eyes. I want to say something to him, but I don’t know what, and I don’t want to risk upsetting him again. Sky reaches over and takes my hand, anxiously running her thumb back and forth across my palm. Everyone in the car is on edge and restless, unsure of what the future holds. I feel sick to my stomach. I hate the idea of taking my big brother and dropping him off at some mental institution, but right now, I don’t know what else to do. He’s a risk to himself and to others.
The closer we get to the hospital, the deeper Sky’s nails press into my flesh. "Sky, it’s going to be okay. We all know this is what's best. If there's any chance of him being in the baby’s life, he has to get help."
"I know. It’s just almost surreal. Growing up, I never expected my life to be like this. I'm not complaining, but it doesn't fit into what I had imagined."
"Baby, I'll do everything in my power to make that happen. It might not be today or tomorrow, but from now on, know that my intentions are pure." She smiles, giving my hand a tight squeeze, and looks back over her shoulder at Camryn.
"I hope you're right about him. I know, regardless of our past or future, he deserves a chance to know the baby,” she says on a sigh before turning back to the front of the car.
Camryn’s entire demeanor changes the closer we get to the hospital. His antsy, erratic behavior is making Sky uncomfortable. She looks back at him again, and this time worry is evident in her gaze.
"Cam, you need to relax," she says, barely above a whisper. Camryn looks at her, his eyes locked in blank, glassy stare.
"Sky, it's not him in there. It's almost like he's been brainwashed." His eyes shift to me, and I can see the hatred in his eyes, and I can feel the tension building with each passing mile.
"This is going to be bad," she whispers, so low that I almost don’t hear her.
"What was that?" I ask.
"Oh, nothing, just a random thought.”
I nod, accepting her answer, even though I know she isn’t telling me the truth. Now isn’t the time to push it. The glossy look of her eyes tells me she’s not far from breaking.
"Baby . . . Sky,” I say, and she looks at me but avoids eye contact.
"Please look at me. This is what he needs. Do you really want him showing up and acting out again? We have no idea what he's capable of when he's this strung out. He has to get help."
"I know. I just . . . I feel sorry for him, and the most confusing thing is that I don't know why."
"If it's too much for you—"
"No, it’s not. I'll be fine," she says, her voice raising an octave. She looks out the window and just stares as we make the turn into the hospital. Camryn begins to hiss in a primitive way, and I notice that Sky begins to shake. She's beginning to succumb to the stress of the situation, and I have no clue what to do to make it better. She’s my rock, and now when she begins to crumble, I don’t know what to do in order to hold her together. If I don’t do something quick, she will be sand sifting between my fingers.
"Sky, stop. You need to relax. Think of the baby." She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath.
"I don't know if I can do this." She sighs.
"If you're not comfortable, stay put. You know he's going to fight me when I attempt to coax him from the car. Don’t watch. You’ve been through enough, and you don't need
any extra stress." She looks at me in protest.
"I mean it, Sky. After the last scare, I don't know if my heart can handle seeing you in pain." Sky bites down on her bottom lip and draws in an uneven breath.
"Let's do this. He needs this,” she says and slides out from her seat, cautiously opening the back door.
"Camryn, look at me." Camryn turns his head toward her, and the tension begins to diminish. "Come on. Keep your eyes on me. Do you know where we are?" He blinks a couple of times and shakes his head no.
"You're here to get help. You need this. Now, Kip is going to help you out of the car, and don't you fight him. Do you understand?" He nods, and I take her place.
"Come on, bro. They're going to take really good care of you. Ok?" He lowers his head and slowly emerges from the car. Sky walks in ahead of us to begin the registration process, and everything seems fine. As we enter the front doors, he snaps.
I'm holding him down to the floor when two orderlies come around the corner. Camryn continues to fight me, slamming his head against the cold tile floor. A splatter of red blinds me for a moment, and I realize he's busted the side of his head open. Sky covers her face in horror as she turns to heave over the trash can.
"Camryn, stop," she pleads. “Let them help you.”
“You’re bleeding, for fuck’s sake,” I scream at him. He looks at me strangely as the pain begins to take over. The orderlies lay a towel under his head and call for help. The red pool beginning to spread under his head is alarming. His eyes begin to flutter, and he passes out. I stand out of the way to let them get him stabilized and look over to Sky, who is now on her knees in the middle of the floor.
"I knew something was going to happen. I just knew." She sobs, an uncontrollable mess now. It breaks my heart to see her in so much pain, to see what this is doing to her. I want to shield her from every harmful person, object and thing in the universe and protect her for the rest of our lives. I never want to see her shed another tear.
Not like this.
