I look at myself in the mirror, yawning loudly. Pulling my shirt off I throw it in the corner of the room. I go to do the same to my pants, but my finger comes across something in the pocket. Reaching in, I pull out the paper I had forgotten about. I stare down at the drawing again, still taken aback as much as I was the first time I saw it. I let the shower run and let the room fill with steam. Sliding my fingers between the folds, I open the paper, noticing there are words handwritten on the back.
Life is a notion that now sickens me. If I had wings, I would fly free. But since I don’t, I guess I will choose to jump instead of float.
The note has no signature or indication that it was meant to be delivered to anyone in particular and I find myself wondering how it came to be on the streets of the city. The words are heavy in my heart, the drawing leaving me speechless. The feelings of when my mother took her own life haunt me every day. Suicide doesn’t just affect those that decide to remove themselves from this world, but each and every person who loved them.
Folding up the note again, I leave the bathroom and head back into my bedroom. I walk over to a corkboard on my wall and pull out an unoccupied push pin. Reaching up, I put the folded note up on the board, sticking the pin back in the top, making sure to not pierce any of the drawing. Something about that drawing pulls me in, the words swirling around in my head over and over. It’s as though I can feel what they felt. I stare at it for another second before turning around and heading back to the shower.
Chapter 9
Phoenix
I feel myself being blinded, opening my eyes slowly. I notice that there is a harsh stream of sunlight coming through the window, hitting right on my pillow. I grumble, pulling the sheets over my head and I inhale an unfamiliar scent. I open my eyes again and slowly remember everything.
Pain. Cold. Daggers. Green. Fear. I peer out from under my covers slowly, only to have a pair of eyes staring back at me.
“Morning!” a small girl says standing over me.
Her eyes are large, a vibrant brown. Her hair is as dark as night and travels down the length of her back in a loose braid. I slide out from under my sheets but keep them close against my chest.
“Don’t be afraid, Phoenix.” She smiles.
Goosebumps break out all over my body when I realize no one knows my name here besides the nurses and him. I think she noticed my uneasiness.
“Don’t worry, I tend to have psychic abilities,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Rain.”
Lifting my hand out from under the covers slowly, I shake hers. We both fall silent.
“Do you want to have breakfast with me?” she asks.
“Uh sure,” I answer. “I need to use the bathroom first though.”
“Sure, it’s just through there,” she says, pointing to the closed door.
Pulling my covers off, I swing my feet out, the tile cold on my toes. I use the bathroom quickly, washing my hand and then head back into the bedroom. Rain is holding out a different pair of clothes for me.
“They don’t have any strings so they should be OK,” she says, the smile now gone, a worried one replacing it.
“Thanks,” I say softly, pulling them on.
Once I am dressed, we exit the bedroom, the hallway a lot busier than the previous night. My heart begins to race, realizing that this is all real. This isn’t a dream. It’s more like a nightmare.
As we make our way to what I assume is where we are eating, I take in my surroundings. There are people everywhere, a mixture of aides and patients. Their faces look tired, as if the life has been drained from them. I can see the pain and the hurt, a sight I am all too familiar with. I feel someone’s arm slide into mine. I look over to see Rain standing next to me, our elbows locked together. We don’t say anything, she just smiles.
“Sit,” she says bubbly, while holding out a chair for me.
I slide into the seat, now alone at a table. Playing with my fingernails, I find myself thinking about him and the feeling that flowed through me before I passed out. Betrayed by my own body.
I can feel my cheeks burning and my heart starting to race. I look up from the table, shifting my eyes around the room. There are mostly female aides in here, except for one unfamiliar guy, who is looking back at me. I quickly look away and back down at my hands.
“He’s not here,” I hear a voice say, looking up to see Rain sliding into the chair next to me.
“Who?” I ask, trying to pretend like I don’t know who she is talking about.
She just laughs.
“There isn’t much you can keep from me, Phoenix,” she says.
I smile shyly.
“Just in case you were wondering, he works nights and gets off at seven.”
She shimmies in her chair, handing me a fork and knife.
“We’re allowed to have these?” I ask.
“Yeah, they count them when we leave though,” she says, taking a bite of food.
I do the same, the food feeling incredible, fulfilling the nutrition deficit my body has been collecting. We both eat in silence until a figure comes up to our table. It’s the male aide that was staring at me, or at least I think he was. Maybe I’m just paranoid.
“Girls,” I hear him say.
My heart is racing so fast I can hear the boom in my ears. I don’t look up from my plate of food.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I hear him say. “You must be Phoenix.”
My eyes widen, knowing I have to look up at him. Shifting my eyes upward, I look into his eyes, nodding slightly. I quickly look back down. I can still feel him hovering, his body leaning in closer to my back. I begin to feel nauseous, my vision blurry. After a few seconds, he leaves. When I know it’s clear, I sit straight in my chair, looking over my shoulder slowly, relieved that he is no longer in the room.
“He is the devil,” I hear Rain say and I whip my head around to look at her.
She doesn’t say more than that, but I tend to agree. We both resume eating. When we both finish, I pick up my tray and utensils, handing it to the aide. She looks over the tray, making sure all the utensils are there. Rain and I leave the kitchen, her arm in mine again. Being so close to someone would usually scare me, but Rain is just…comforting.
“Do you want to go for a walk? I can show you the rest of the hospital…”
“Sure,” I whisper.
She grabs my arm and we make a quick right out through a pair of doors, into a small courtyard. It’s cold and the wind is harsh but it feels indescribable, like I can finally breathe. I unhook my arm from Rain’s, stepping towards the surrounding gates. I feel free for the first time in so long. I feel like no one can touch me here. I feel safe. Tears start to fall, my emotions overtaking my mind. To be so close, yet so far away.
Rain comes up next to me, as though she can feel what I’m feeling. She puts her arm around me, her touch soothing. And then she says something to me, her eyes staring out in the same direction of mine.
“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass Phoenix…it’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
I look over at her, her face expressionless, as though she is somewhere else. She’s starting to freak me out a little bit.
Chapter 10
Braeden
Reaching into my closet, I pull out my favorite pair of jeans and my blue and black plaid flannel shirt. Swiping my hands through my hair, I go to grab my shoes out of my closet, a small part of me not surprised that they are nowhere to be found. Bret. Grabbing a pair of socks, I leave my bedroom heading immediately for his room. His door is closed but I push it open anyways, the mixture of cigarette ash and alcohol seeping from the carpet. Pulling my shirt up over my nose, I start to kick the mounds of clothing laid upon the floor. Looks like we’re not getting our deposit back.
In the far right corner of the room, I see them, my black high top lace ups. I grab them and make my way back to the hallway, the bong and used condoms on the nightstand don’t go unnoticed. Sitting do
wn on the couch, I begin to lace up my shoes when I hear my phone ringing.
I groan while leaning back into the couch, pulling out my phone out of my pocket. Putting it up to my ear, I hold it with my shoulder while I continue to lace up my shoes.
“Yea,” I say into the phone.
“Dude, are you coming or what? We’re already fucking way ahead of you…”
“Yeah, I’m just about to head out the door,” I explain.
“Alright, hurry up!” he shouts.
I hang up the phone without a response and slide the phone back into my pocket. Grabbing my keys and wallet off the counter I head out the building. It’s only a walk of a few blocks from my place to the bar. Once I reach the front, I can see it’s packed with patrons spilling out the front door. Maneuvering through the crowd, I spot the bouncer, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
“How are you doing tonight?” I shout over the music.
“Great! It’s a full house!” he yells back. “Make sure you keep that friend of yours in line this time, he’s already hit on all the bartenders.”
I smile crookedly.
“I will, thanks, man,” I respond before stepping into the main room.
Light sounds of jazz hits my ears, instantly calming me. I spot Donovan easily, as he is always the tallest guy in the room. Once he spots me, he lifts his hands in the air, waving me over.
“Where you been, my man?” he asks, leaning down to wrap his arms around me.
“I clearly do have some catching up to do,” I mumble, smelling the alcohol on his breath.
Wrangling myself out from under him, I grab the nearest chair at our table and slide into it. I nod at our other guests, most of them from Donovan’s soccer team. A few seconds later, a tumbler glass is set in front of me and I already know what it holds.
Looking up, I am greeted by one of bartenders, a redheaded woman with tattoos covering every inch of the exposed skin on her arms.
“Thanks,” I say, giving her a small smile.
“You look like shit, Braeden,” she says, pushing on my shoulder.
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. “Jesus Christ! How much rum did you put in this thing?”
“Don’t be such a pussy.” She laughs. “No woman is ever going to want to sleep with you if you act like that,” she says, smacking the side of my head.
“I’m pretty sure men don’t want to sleep with an abusive bitch, either,” I shoot back.
She just winks at me before leaving our table and heading back behind the bar to tend to the rest of the customers. I continue to sip on my rum and coke, watching the people around me, but remain silent. I turn my attention to the band that’s on stage. They are frequent players at the bar. I tap the rim of my glass, my body responding to the music, knowing every note of the guitar solo. I laugh to myself, remembering the guitar lessons I took as a kid. I thought I was going to be the next Jimi Hendrix. The last thing I wanted to do was follow in my father’s footsteps, but after my mother’s death, I wanted nothing more than to help people - to give people the help that they deserved. It’s amazing how unpredictable life can be. I feel a push on my shoulder again, my empty glass replaced with a new one.
“Thanks,” I respond, giving the red head a crooked smile. I then feel a flick on my opposite shoulder.
“Hey, man, come have a smoke with me,” Donovan says.
I grunt, pushing my chair out from the table, grabbing my glass, the condensation from it dripping against my skin. We make our way out the back door, into a small alley behind the bar. I lean up against the brick wall, listening to Donovan mumble on about how he scored the winning goal of tonight’s match and how he is going to get so much ass from his new found celebrity status.
I start to tune him out, my eyes fixated on the end of the alley way, watching the masses of people walking by. After some time, I bring my attention back to him.
“I gotta go take a piss.” he says, whacking me on my chest.
“Jesus Christ, man, quit fucking hitting me,” I say, rubbing my chest.
“Such a pussy!” he says shaking his head. I roll my eyes at him. “You know you still owe me for that,” he adds.
“For what?” I ask, confused.
“For saving your ass in third grade. If I didn’t hit that asshole first, that face of yours wouldn’t be so pretty.” He laughs.
“I could have handled it myself,” I defend. He just laughs, pulling open the back door.
“You coming?” he asks.
“Nah, I’m gonna stay here, fresh air feels good.”
“Whatever, man, make sure your weak ass doesn’t catch a cold,” he jokes.
“You do know that you can’t actually get a cold from being cold right?” I tell him.
“There you go with that medical bullshit again.” He laughs. “See you inside,” he says before heading back in.
Lifting my body off the wall, I walk the length of the alley way, breathing in the fumes from the Chinese restaurant next door. When I get to the end, I continue to watch the crowds go by. The stream of solid red lights, the sound of blaring horns fills the night air. Everyone in such a hurry, too busy to enjoy life. Guess I’m guilty of that. Just as I am about to turn around to head back to the bar, a figure across the street catches my eye. Dark brown flowing hair, bright beautiful eyes.
I take a step forward, the hair on my arms standing upright. I squint into the darkness and see that the figure still standing there, smiling back at me. I take one more step towards it. Then another.
There is silence for a moment, like nothing else exists on the planet. Until I hear the sound of tires screeching on wet pavement, instantly snapping me out of whatever world I was currently in. Looking to my left, I am blinded by two headlights coming straight at me. The bumper of a cab grazed my kneecaps, making my knees buckle and I fall to the ground, the glass in my hand shattering against the asphalt. I feel a sharp pain in my right hand and see a rusty red mixing with the water and oil on the ground.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” the cab driver screams to me as he gets out of his car. “You fucking kids, can’t keep a hold of your god damn liquor.”
I whip my head from his direction to the sidewalk behind me, the figure now gone, as though it simply vanished into thin air. I feel arms wrap around mine, my body being lifted off the ground.
“You alright, man?” I hear Donovan say behind me, his hands brushing debris off of my clothes.
“Yeah,” I say, now looking down at my hand.
“Holy fuck, dude,” Donovan shouts, putting his nose inside his elbow. I look down at my hand, and then back up at him.
“Are you scared of blood?” I say laughing.
I hold my hand up to his face and Donovan takes a step back. I take another one toward him, both of us repeating our steps. Donovan breaks into a sprint back to the bar and I follow, laughing the entire way.
“Who’s the pussy now?” I shout.
When we get back into the bar, I am immediately met by the redheaded bartender. She grabs my arm.
“I have a first aid kit in the office,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of a hallway.
I follow her, my hand now fucking stinging. When we make it to a closed door, she pulls a pair of keys from her pocket, causing the hem of her shirt to ride up. It’s now that I notice her arms are not the only places she has tattoos. When she gets the door open, she ushers me in.
“Sit,” she instructs, pointing to the office chair up against the desk.
I do as I’m told. She walks over to a file cabinet, coming back with a small cloth pouch.
“I can do it myself…” I tell her, reaching out to take it from her. She smacks my hand away.
“Sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of,” she says, her face deadpanned.
Grabbing a stool, she sits down and slides towards me. She doesn’t stop until I have to open my legs, her body sliding between them. Reaching down, she grabs m
y hand again and puts it in her lap.
“Now, hold still.”
I can feel myself becoming anxious. Something about her touch is rough yet gentle. She takes the antiseptic wipe packet in her hand and rips it open in one swoop. She wipes it across my palm, the once-white cloth now a murky brown. When she finishes, she grabs the roll of gauze and wraps what seems like a thousand layers around my hand, clearly having no clue what she is doing. She binds it with a few pieces of tape. She stops her work, looking down at it and then back up at me.
“Fuck, it will have to do,” she says, examining it once more.
“Thanks,” I say, pulling my arm into me.
When I look back up at her, she has a vicious smile across her lips. Her hand comes up around my neck and pulls her stool even closer to mine. I can now feel her legs touching the inside of mine. In one swift motion, she hops from her stool onto my lap, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I pulse with desire. Reaching up with my good arm, I weave my fingers through her hair, pulling her face to mine. Her kiss is harsh and it makes me more frenzied. My other hand finds the lower part of her back, making her bottom half grind into me, until a sharp pain ruptures through my hand. There must be glass in there.
Moments later, she lets go of my hair to pull her tank top off, exposing more of her tattoos. The artwork is breathtaking and I find myself transfixed.
“Hey, Harris, you gonna fuck me or stare at my tits all day?” she announces.
I smile crookedly, lifting her off me harshly and slam her body down onto the desk, causing papers to fly off in every direction. Reaching up, she grabs at the hem of my shirt, a silent signal for me to remove it. I do so in one swift motion and throw it on the floor behind me. Her hands find the button of my pants, her fingers working fast to remove them, while her teeth gently gnawing on my bottom lip. They eventually fall off my hips, gathering down at my ankles. I quickly reach down as well, grabbing the front of her jeans, pulling on them hard. I hear the button pop, which then bounces across the floor.
A Brand New Ending Page 4
