Her First, His Last

by J. M. Worthington

  I tipped toed to peek behind the curtain. When a small overhead light hit the backside of Myles’s behind, my legs started to shake. My eyes traced the outline of his muscles as they moved along the tanned, smoothed body of some brunette lying under him.

  The loud moan came again, this time from Myles’s voice box. I covered my mouth and took a step back as he moved his hips hard and fast against the lady.

  Myles was having sex.

  The reaction I was feeling was downright visceral. My body burned with white-hot pain.

  Something we had only shared once; he was given freely to her. I freaked out and didn’t even realize I was crying until I choked on my own snot. I didn't see any end in sight.

  I couldn't imagine feeling this type of pain—the sting of a broken heart from hell.

  Betrayal was even more challenging to bear than actual death.

  He grabbed at the lady's legs, shoving them farther apart. A loud, pleasurable cry filled the room as two hands wrapped around Myles’s back. The space around me began to pulsate as I did my damnest to bleach the image from my brain. Seeing him having sex caused my inside to flip and flop violently in my stomach. A bitter taste of bile bubbled up in the back of my throat.

  I turned, and my foot slid against the tile in the hallway. The air was smacked from my lungs as my back crashed against the ground. I winced in pain from the collapse. Looking up, I felt a heat boil in my stomach at the sight of Jay hovering over me. He held his long-fingered hand up to me and smirked. "See something you didn't like?"

  I wanted to ram my fist upside his perfect jawline. He knew what I would find inside that bus. I started to speak but felt the tears wail up in my throat and pour from my eyes.

  "I get it. Just call me a driver, and I'll leave." I pushed myself, less than gracefully, off the ground and dusted off my jeans before racing from the bus.

  Jay followed me with a snap of his dress shoes. "This isn't a one-time event," he whispered against my ear.

  I closed my eyes. "Just call me a ride."

  Jay snapped his fingers above his head, and a black sedan pulled up beside us.

  "I didn't want to hurt you, but Myles needed awake-up call if he is ever to get the help he needed," Jay said as he opened the sedan's door for me.

  With the tears in my eyes, I never saw Myles walk up until a hand hooked around the bend of my arm and tenderly pulled me to a stop. I glanced back to see Myles struggling to even look at me, then squinted and glared at where his fingers were wrapped around my arm. My chest ached at the sight of him.

  "Talk to me." His thick accent slurred the words as I gripped the door open. He was a hollow shell of the man I knew. The Myles I loved no longer existed. “Please?” His breath fell on my face. It smelled of whiskey and peppermint. Channels of sweat run down his chest and shimmered in the moonlight, only reminding me what I had just witnessed him doing.

  He swiped the pad of his thumb over my cheek and captured a tear. I flinched.

  I love him. God, did I love him.

  The world around us stopped, and without hesitation, I shook my head and thought about laughing. But I couldn't muster up even a modicum of laughter.

  I didn't want a confrontation. I hungered for Myles’s touch—for him. But not this. His dark denim pants hung low from his firm, narrow hips. He hadn't even taken the time to button them.

  "Let me go. Just let me go. Please." I wanted my voice to sound forceful, but with the emotions burning my throat, my strength had dwindled to nothing.

  Our faces were less than an inch away from each other, his nostrils flared, his eyes twitched involuntarily. Several moments passed as he stared me down. It was impossible to look away. Maybe, if I searched his eyes long and hard enough, all the secrets would be exposed between us. A hollow ache settled in my stomach as he rested his forehead on mine.

  A girl bounced up behind Myles and wrapped her hand around his wrist. She was tall and, well, perfect. My heart bled at the thought Myles had been on her body, inside of her.

  "Who's she?" the girl asked.

  "She’s my everything!" Myles shrugged the girl off him and screamed, "Leave before I do something I'll regret."

  You don't already regret sleeping with her.

  The girl appeared stunned but luckily left without arguing. I couldn't take hearing her voice again.

  Myles’s bloodshot eyes pleaded for mercy. "Blue Eyes." He hesitated as if what he felt was too painful to put into words. "I'm sorry, please, baby. Just talk to me."

  "If you ever cared about me, just let me go," I whispered.

  Sawyer stormed into my sight. "Let her go. You've hurt her enough. Just let her go. We don't deserve her."

  Myles released the door temporarily, and I took the moment to slam it shut. Sawyer started to drag Myles away, but he was fighting Sawyer and screaming my name.

  My heart shattered into enough pieces to never be the same again. I barely contained the tears that pooled in my eyes.

  "Take me to the nearest cheap hotel," I directed the driver before I went and told Myles that I forgave him and that I wanted to be with him.

  Instead, I wrapped my arms around myself, and I cried. Through it all, I could hear Myles calling out my name.

  And still, I left.

  Chapter 13

  M y eyes flickered open with sudden dread. I crashed back onto the hard lump, some called a pillow, and let out an exasperated sigh.

  When I told the driver, I wanted a cheap motel, I didn't mean Motel Roachville. Exhausted from lying awake all night, I wondered about what Myles was doing.

  "Let me in," a man said from the other side of the door and seemed to kick rather than knock on it.

  I slumped from the bed and threw my sweatshirt over my head, then opened the door but didn't release the chain. Outside the narrow opening was Sawyer. The blue in his eyes appeared liquefied.

  "Can we talk?" His eyes averted to his shoes, signaling his guilt.

  I removed the chain from the door and let him in. "What is there to talk about?"

  "He has destroyed the bus. I would say he was going psychotic, but he has been there for years," Sawyer said with an artificial laugh.

  "Don't." I plastered a heavyhearted smile on my face and rubbed my chest. How could something so hollow hold such pain? I was a functioning adult. Yet, I had never felt more helpless. Both hands suddenly covered my mouth. I wanted it to stop. The pain needed to stop. I had never prayed harder to go numb.

  Sawyer had me wrapped in his arms. "He loves you. We both do. I know it's hard to understand, but he was just trying to cope. He would leave it all behind for you."

  The whisper left my lips before I realized I was even talking, "then why?"

  "Because he was stoned out of his head, and she was a groupie who fucked her way backstage and was easy."

  I tried to hide the fact I felt like he had just sucker-punched me. I failed. Myles was hiding so many things from me. Were there clues? Did he suppress who he was? Or was I simply not looking? After all, who needed clues when you didn't even realize you're supposed to be playing detective? "When did he start?"

  "Sleeping with whores or shooting up?"

  Realization dawned on me, and my eyes widened. "Both?"

  His clear blue eyes were downcast with a penetrating glare. "Talk to him. Myles loves you."

  "I'm talking to you. Do all men treat sex as if they were offering someone a piece of gum? Or is that just a Myles’s thing?"

  "Unicorn?" Sawyer's hooded stare faltered while I kept eye contact.

  "Stop with the unicorn shit. When did he start?"

  "The drugs after he broke his legs. It was the pain killers at first. Then he started doing an odd line of coke now and then. Everyone wants something from him, from me. It's hard. A little buzz simply helps him cope. The sex, I have no idea, but it never meant anything to him." Sawyer appeared stone-like, to the point I couldn't read what he was thinking.

  Red hot pain seared what was left of my heart, a
nd tears cascaded down my cheeks as my heart ripped open. “Then, why? Why sleep with her then?"

  "He has pussy thrown at him like it's candy at a St. Patrick's Day parade. Did you really think he was going to stay a virgin forever? Our world is different from yours now." Sawyer flashed his fake-magazine-cover smile then winked.

  He wasn’t a virgin. I just wasn’t enough.

  "You're not helping." The blood pulsed in my ears loud enough to silence the rasping of my rapid breaths. Bodily fatigue and weariness had chipped away any patience I had left. "Just leave."

  "Emma?" Sawyer said, questionably.

  I fell back on the bed and pulled my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around my body to ward off the chills pulsating through me. "I can't take this. My mom chose drugs over me and now, Myles. Why am I not enough?"

  “Baby, you are the best part of our lives. You are more than enough.” Sawyer tried holding me, but I pushed against him, sending him rolling to the ground.

  “Get the hell out. NOW!”

  “I will always be here for you.” The door slammed, but I couldn't lookup. Sawyer had left and had taken any good I had ever shared with him and Myles away.

  Myles was gone, and had taken a massive chunk of me with him. He had ripped my heart out of my chest, threw it in the blender, set it to pulverize, and then stepped on it.

  Sobs wracked my body. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping the covers around me as if it would keep the heartbreak away. The pain laced through any song didn't compare to the pain ripping me apart inside. A pain so soul-crushing, I knew I would never recover. Everything about my life up until that point ended. If Myles wanted the rock and roll lifestyle, then he could have it, but there was no way he could have me too. I wouldn't wait in the wings as he shagged every girl who bent over and huffed, snorted, or however the hell you ingested it, lines of coke. I told myself once that Myles deserved more than damaged goods. Well, so did I.

  I would never get over him. He was my other half, the cliché soulmate. For as long as I lived, I would never forgive him for destroying me. I cried until I could no longer keep my eyes open.

  At some point, I was dragged from sleep by the velvet touch of soft lips brushing against mine. My eyes popped open, and I screamed.

  "Please forgive me, Blue Eyes. I'm so sorry. So damn sorry. I love you, Em."

  I locked eyes with the only person capable of making my body go numb. Myles was there. His beautiful gray eyes with their flecks of blue captured mine. They revealed how heartbroken he was, absolutely crushed. I couldn't trust myself around him.

  I jumped out of bed and folded my arms across my chest, hating how his pain ruled me.

  He looked tired and seemed to have aged overnight. I sat back down on the bed and scooted my back against the headboard.

  My eyes were finally opened, and I could see the addict in him. Bruise-like rings circled his bloodshot eyes. He had lost weight—too much weight, and his cheekbones stood out in stark relief of his gaunt cheeks.

  My sweet Myles was gone, and in his place was a person I didn't recognize. He was someone dead inside.

  I tucked myself away into that quiet corner of my mind that rarely allowed me to feel—but I felt everything.

  "How did you get in here?" My head was spinning from the events of the entire night.

  "I paid the front desk for another key. This place isn't safe. Come back to the bus with me?" He brushed his hands through his hair, and I wanted to ease the ache in him, but I couldn't. Not until he looked me in the eye and explained what happened.

  "I'm not going anywhere with you. Nothing here can hurt me as bad as you have."

  "How could you say that to me?"

  "Say that to you? You know what living with my mom did to me. I don't know if it is the cheating or drug use that hurts the most," I said with a deep-seated angry energy.

  I grabbed a pillow from the bed and flung it at him. He dunked as a single tear meandered down his cheek. The man I loved was slowly breaking into a million and one-pieces. It terrified me deep into my soul. Something had shattered him, and I didn't know how to put him back together.

  "I listened to you. I tried helping you. I have demons too." He took a few steps towards my bed. "I need help. I can’t do this without you. Help me."

  "Looks like you were getting plenty of help last night. Were you even a virgin our first time?"

  Myles turned his head and stared at a framed poster of a stream in the forest. His shoulders slumped, causing his head to bow too.

  “Don’t answer. I already know. Was I even your first kiss?”

  “Hell! Yes, you’re my first kiss. No, I wasn’t a virgin, but nothing has meant more to me than that night. Nothing or no one has ever compared to you.”

  “Hmph. You know what they say, your first was special, the rest was.” I shrugged. “Well, just the rest.”

  "You once told me that nothing could make you stop loving me."

  "And I was correct, but that is a pain I'll have to live with," I said, and the thought chilled my bones. It was true. We had shared the kind of love that couldn't die. It didn't fade. It grew with time. It changes. But nothing could end it, and that would be my agonizing cross to bear.

  He sat on the edge of my bed; the look of surrender in his eyes caused my throat to close. It hurt to breathe. "I can't control it. I fight each day against the drugs calling me. The natural high I experience from a show is euphoric. It's like I'm floating in a sweet haze. The drugs the liquor it helps take the edge off and come down from the euphoria." He paused and scratched at the five o'clock shadow on his face. "All I think about is my next fix. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. I love you, damnit. But when she offered, not herself but one hundred percent pure coke, my veins hurt. I just wanted to be numb. Silence my demons. Make it all stop." The sadness in his voice almost broke me.

  “You need to go to rehab. I don’t know the extent of your habit, I didn't even know you had a problem, and I’m not sure I can believe you if you tell me now.” My fingers curled into fists. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to punch him, and I wanted to hug him. "Why wasn’t I enough? I thought I made you happy."

  He reached over to touch a strand of my hair. I sucked in a breath, and my body jerked at his touch, but I didn't move fast enough, and his touch singed my skin.

  "You do make me happy. So damn happy. The sex with her meant nothing. I guess it just heightens the feel the drugs give me."

  "Did what we share mean nothing too?"

  "Don't go there." He shook his head purposively, then his body followed suit with an involuntary shake of its own. "That's not fair. I just go through the motions of life. What you saw—she was no more than a means to an end. I pretty much live on whiskey, pills, coke, and little Debbie's." Myles’s voice sliced through the thick layer of air in the room.

  "I don't want to simply be a means to an end for you.” I shrugged my shoulder. “For anyone."

  "Don't... I love you. Please help me?" Tears blurred his vision, and the sobs erupted from his throat. "I'm even high now. I couldn't even get the courage to ask for help without getting completely shit-faced."

  Myles raked his fingers through his hair, then cupped his face with the palms of his hands.

  "Can you please forgive me?" He peeked at me between his fingers.

  It suddenly struck me. I wasn't crying. I was no longer angry. I just felt pity, but I wasn't crying. The tattered pieces of my heart hurt, each beat was more painful than the last, then my heart seemed to stop, and in its place was a hollowness that brought the relief my body craved.

  "I love you. I love you so damn much. Please believe me. It's the drugs. I can't stop. I've tried." His words came out too quickly. "Don't hate me."

  I didn't hate him. I couldn't even if I tried. He had broken me. It broke me he was an addict. Broken, I couldn't help him any more than I had helped my mother. How could two broken souls heal each other?

  "Leave. I couldn't save my mom. How am I su
pposed to help you? Just leave. It hurts too much."

  Myles’s body involuntarily retreated as if I had hit him, then his face went from pain to sadness to anger. He gripped the roots of his hair with blanched knuckles and let out a howl from within the deepest crux of his body. The scream tore through the room as if a great shard of glass was cutting any connection we had in two.

  "Just go back to your trailer park. There is a line waiting to take your place," he said as he turned to leave.

  I had only myself.

  Cutting off Myles was severing all I knew. My entire life was interwoven with Myles, Sawyer, the band. By turning my back on Manuscript, I had no one, but what choice did I have?

  Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks, and each week hurt worse than the one before. I finally graduated with honors. But I didn't even take the time to attend graduation. What was the use? Granny was in bed with her rheumatoid arthritis, and I had no one else to care if I was there or not.

  With my heart heavy, I sat on the front doorsteps instead, unwilling to analyze what my life had become. I couldn't stop mourning a boy I met when I was twelve, and part of me knew I always would.

  Wanting to feel our connection one last time, I snuck into his shed and fell asleep on our make-out sofa, hearing his voice sing me off to sleep.

  Not able to take it any longer, I flipped off the jam box and tossed it across the room. I vowed to stop listening to music altogether. I knew what I did about the band's success only because they received so much airtime on TV. Granny understood. If the band and especially Myles were mentioned on one of her talk shows, she would quickly change the channel. It still didn't keep someone from stopping me in town to tell me the latest. A few busybodies even enjoyed telling me about the different girls Myles had been seen with. I gave up reading any magazine, so luckily, I didn't have to see any of the pictures myself. Avoidance had become my newest obsession.

  Other than applying for a few jobs, I tried to never leave the house. Myles bought his mom a place on the other side of the tracks. So, I didn't have any visible reminders he had even been in my life. Everything screamed the most significant part of my life had vanished.