by Debbie Civil
Salvage
By Debbie Civil
Edited by Riva Davis
[email protected]
Copyright 2014 by Debbie Civil
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by
any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the author.
Prologue
September 25, 2013
Dear Peter,
To be honest with you, I’m not sure when my mind decided to join the land of the living. All I remember is the numbness, which felt like a fuzzy cloud floating in my brain. Maybe it could be described as a Vicodin- induced high, or waking up to the effects of anesthesia. Describing what it felt like to be out of a coma is difficult. But I can tell you what happened after the fog lifted. My eyes were sensitive to the light. It hurt like crap to open them and everything was so blurry. The sounds of the monitors beeping started to get irritating. I wanted to get up, just to explore my surroundings, but I felt too weak. Dad had been the one sitting with me on that November night. I couldn’t see him. And he didn’t exclaim with joy that his daughter woke up. I knew it was him because he barked two words to what must have been a nurse making her rounds, “she’s awake.” That’s it. The guy didn’t reassure me or kiss my forehead. Nope! He did his duty and left the room.
Dearest love, those weeks were awful. Feeling sleepy, trying to make my tongue work again, and forcing my muscles to do what I wanted them to do. It took tremendous effort to sit up. Mom was constantly by my side, though I wished she would have left. All the woman wanted to talk about was why I tried to commit suicide. It’s really funny because dying was the last thing I had truly wanted. I wanted to escape from all of the hurt and the pain. Instead, I caused more. And I can never forgive myself for how much pain I caused all of you. I felt embarrassed, confused, and tormented during the few weeks that mom was around. Seeing everybody else didn’t soothe the ache much. Danny was quiet and introspective, while Eli told me that I was stupid and to never do it again. Carmen felt guilty, blaming herself for everything. Tiller had gone back to school and hadn’t come to see me until the third week of my stay. Grandmother and Kenny sat and watched television with me, though neither of them said a word. Ivy and Teresa actually visited me, and that was just awkward. Tia kept on blabbering on about how she forgave me for shooting her father. Every time she entered the room, images of that terrible day would flash before my eyes. Nathan and Malcolm were a welcome distraction. They remained normal and made me feel light- hearted. But it was you who made me believe that there was a way out of all of the darkness.
When Grandmother approached me about going to a nice quiet boarding school with an excellent therapy program, I wanted to tell her to forget about it. But when she told me that I needed to deal with my issues, I thought of you. I wondered “What would Peter do?” Your strength is the only reason I left. You are my life. I should have known it when you rescued me from the mugger. But I was distracted by what I thought I wanted. Now I’m absolutely sure about what I want. I want you, Peter Jacobs. So that means I need to work on myself to be good enough. I’ll miss you and I understand if you don’t want to wait for me. I’m sure that you have another girl at home. In fact, they are probably lining up, begging for a chance to be with you.
I just want you to know that there is no one else for me. You are it. I’m not going to date anyone else. It sounds nuts, but you are the one.
I love you,
Chelsea
October 22, 2013
Dear Chelsea,
Doctor Cruz told me to be honest with you. So I’m going to try. I want you to know in advance that this might be difficult for you to read. I want you to get well, so I’ll be completely honest. Words can’t describe how I felt when I saw you jump out of the limo. I think my life ended that day. It was like all of my emotions were sucked into a vacuum. It wasn’t until your mother said that you might not wake up that I felt anything. Let’s just say I blamed myself a lot.
During my visits I left a few things out. Two months after you jumped, Patrick and Lilly got into a car accident. My best friend is dead. It isn’t easy knowing that I will never resolve any issues between Patrick and me. The last time I spoke to him, I told him that he was dead to me. So the regret of not forgiving him and me not being what you needed, made me look for an outlet. I’m not proud of myself. I started drinking a lot of Vodka. Absolut to be exact. I can’t lie to you and tell you that I’m better. Because I’m not. The day I was forced to kill someone to protect you was the last time I felt like myself. Now I feel tainted. But I wouldn’t take back what I did, even knowing the price. I would do anything to protect you Chelsea. So I drank until I couldn’t feel anymore. I nearly failed my classes, but that didn’t matter. I had already gotten into college and was biding my time at Elmview High. But I could have been Valedictorian. Oh well, none of that matters anymore.
You were gone, Patrick will always be gone, and Lilly… I can’t look at her anymore. She is seeing someone else, now. How typical? She ruined a friendship between two people that were like brothers. As soon as Patrick is out of the picture, she moves on. Whatever friendship we had is gone. Maybe I’ve seen way too much. Maybe I’ve lost too much. I’m unsure. But I can’t just sit by and let people walk all over me anymore. I’ve learned a valuable lesson, there is no sense in being good to people that don't appreciate it.
Wow! I can’t believe that you feel that way about me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think that you’re holding on to the only thing that makes sense. At least, you did with Adam. Did you really love him? Do you really love me? I feel bad for asking you those questions, but you can’t blame me. Chelsea, I love you. I love only you. I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met. But I have my doubts about whether you feel the same way. Can you blame me? Okay, let me end this letter by saying that I hope that you love me. You are all I have left, Chelsea. If I were to lose you… I can’t think about that. Let’s just say that I wouldn’t be able to function. The thought that you’re out there getting treatment is keeping me going. Just get better, Chelsea. Please, get better. When you come back, I don’t want to be worried that you will kill yourself.
I love you and I’m praying for you.
Peter
