Happier Without You

by Nicole Thorn

  Happier Without You

  By

  Nicole Thorn

  This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Happier Without You

  Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Thorn

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Artist: Sarah Hall

  Edited by EAL Editing Services

  Published by CHBB Publishing LLC.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  Dedication

  To POW: I hope one day we both learn to stop hurting.

  Chapter One: Purge

  I’m happier without you. I’m happier without you. It pulsed in my head like a heartbeat. It pounded along with the hammer on my driveway, breaking property that did not belong to me. The hammer would bash against the concrete, and then come down in time for the other half. Happier without you. Happier without you. I couldn’t get the voice out of my head. It lingered and tore and poisoned everything. I thought I had been empty before this. How could I have lost so much when I had nothing to start with? Without you. Without you.

  I stood up, and looked at the hammer in my hand. I got flashes of bringing it down on a head over and over again. Death, death would have been good. It would have been lovely. But what did it make me to decide that I wanted him dead? After everything, what kind of selfish, petty bitch did it make me to hate someone who loved me?

  Petty felt fucking great.

  I chucked the hammer through the air, letting it slip out of my hands before I knew what I did. I gasped, covering my mouth as it went like Bullwinkle. That beautiful bastard landed in a back windshield of a car that did not belong to me. The alarm rang, I squeaked, and then took off running.

  When I slammed my body into the yellow slide at the park down the street from my house, I grunted, and let myself sink into the woodchips below. I panted like the chunky monkey I was, regretting the third McDouble I had for lunch. Fuck that, I didn’t regret it, and now I wished I’d gotten one of those cinnamon rolls too.

  I rested my head against the slide, and tucked my legs up to my chest. It wasn’t a big deal. Windows broke all the time, and I got away fast enough. It looked like rain anyway, and maybe we would get lucky enough to have some hail. Surely a massive piece of hail could break a windshield…and leave a hammer on the driver’s seat…

  My phone rang in my dress pocket, and I screamed like a little bitch. The Super Mario ringtone let me know it was my dad calling.

  “Hey,” I said when I answered. “What’s up?”

  “Um, not much. Can I ask you something, kiddo?”

  “Sure.”

  Dad sighed. “Did you happen to throw a hammer through Mr. Leigh’s windshield?”

  “Uhhhh,” I breathed. “Why do you ask?”

  “Don’t know. I was just sweeping the kitchen and remembered your love of violence.” The humor left him. “We got a knock on the door saying a hammer with the name Walsh carved into the handle, was inside of Mr. Leigh’s car.”

  I cursed. “Why the hell does Mom think she needs to mark all the tools?”

  “Because she’s paranoid, honey. Would you like to tell me why you were so offended with a windshield that you destroyed private property?”

  “No,” I sighed.

  “All right then. Can you come fix it please?”

  I agreed, and we hung up the phone.

  I made the long and slow trek back home, with my head hung and worry that my neighbor would scold me for breaking his car a little bit. I guess I had it coming, but whatever.

  Dad and Mr. Leigh stood in front of the car, chatting while Dad held the hammer I stole. He hit it on his hand, and glanced up at me with hazel eyes that perfectly matched mine.

  “Sorry, Mr. Leigh,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to break the window.”

  The man put his hands on his sides, and sighed heavily at me. “I’m sure you didn’t. Do you mind?” He nodded to the car.

  At least he seemed more put out than annoyed with me. It didn’t take long for the people in my life to notice that I had been all fucked up this last month. He cut me a break that I needed.

  I turned to the shattered back windshield, and focused my power on it. The glass vibrated in the seats, and floated back home. I watched the glass mend itself on my command, each piece changing into what it started as. In seconds, the glass looked like it had never broken in the first place.

  “Thanks,” Mr. Leigh said. “Might I suggest you get a punching bag, or maybe a voodoo doll to play with?”

  I had to try not to glare at him. “Sure.”

  Dad put his arm around my shoulder, and brought me inside the house. We stopped in the living room, with toys scattered everywhere, and the distant sound of children screaming in joy at whatever game they played. It sounded like Orny had a one up on Tuney, and I hoped they kept their insanity far away from me.

  “Clover,” my father said, his big hands on my shoulders as he made me feel a lot smaller than my five feet and two inches. “We need to talk.”

  I broke eye contact, staring at the floor. “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “You’re not fine, and you haven’t been fine for a while. Me and your mom are really worried about you.”

  I believed him, but that was the thing. He worried about me, but it would be fleeting. In five minutes, when my siblings came running in here like a tornado, they would take all of our father’s attention. It wasn’t their fault, but it was true. In five minutes, I wouldn’t matter.

  “I need time,” I told myself, because that was what everyone said. In time, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I would be fine if I got through this rough patch. They all thought that was the magic answer. Why did no one listen to me when I said it was always a rough patch? One after another? I’d never hit smooth sailing, so why should I have put so much faith in this pointless cure-all?

  “I know,” Dad said. “But you threw a hammer through a car. If you need me and Mom to send you to talk to someone, or get you help—”

  “No,” I said. “That’s insane. I’m not talking to a shrink because a douchebag hurt my feelings.”

  Dad patted my head, and then crossed his arms. “I’ll let you do what you want, but if this kind of stuff keeps up, you’re seeing a doctor. You can’t let yourself make stupid choices because you’re hurting. You—”

  And so came the tornado, in the form of a seven-year-old, and a nine-year-old. They screamed, and ran around us, continuing their game like I wasn’t trying to talk to Dad.

  “Dad!” Tuney yelled, running up to him. She batted blue eyes up, and he mussed her dark blond hair. “Can you take us to the park? The birds are out and we wanna chase them.”

  “Hold on,” he said. “I’m talking to your sister.” When he turned to me, he started again. “If you want, we can spend a little time together later. Your mom should be back from work in an hour. We can make dinner as a family.”

  I knew what that meant, and I wasn’t interested in trying to scream over kids. “I—” was all I got out.

  “Dad! Look at this!” Orny screamed, and Dad looked over to the floor.

  My little brother had set up som
e Legos, and when Dad gave him attention, he smashed them while roaring like some monster in a show he watched. Dad laughed, and complemented his style.

  I took my exit.

  When I closed my bedroom door, I locked it behind me. It didn’t do a thing for me, but I wanted a barrier between me and the people on the other side of it. It didn’t even block the loud peals of joy that hurt my ears. All they ever did was scream, and it only seemed to bother me.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, unsure of what to do with the rest of my Saturday. I normally would have spent it with Peter, following him around wherever he wanted to go. It didn’t matter to me, because we got to be together. Now, I didn’t have anyone to spend my time with, so I got to sit here, alone.

  I stared at the dresser in front of me, and the little wooden carvings that had been given to me as presents. I had one for every holiday, two birthdays, and one anniversary. They should have been thrown away or burned a month ago, but I couldn’t bear to toss them. I’d watched Peter shape them from nothing, not even having to touch the wood to carve into it, and change it into something familiar. I did the same for him, making little glass figures that I was sure he’d gotten rid of by now.

  Lying back, I stared around my room, for lack of something better to do. I would have cleaned, but that got taken care of three times this week. All of my books were organized, by size, then series, then color. They sat perfectly on the shelf, as well as every other thing in my room. Not an item out of place, or a crooked picture. It had always been like that. One constant in my life, though I wasn’t sure what it did for me. I felt the same no matter what my room looked like.

  Someone knocked on my door, and I grunted as I got up to unlock it. Mom stood on the other side, still in her work clothes. I pointed to the burn mark. “You all right?”

  She looked down at her overalls as she pulled her scrunchie off. “Yeah, the blowtorch got a little uppity. I hear you were trying to break our driveway with a hammer.”

  Of course Dad told her. “I wasn’t trying to break it.”

  “Like you weren’t trying to break the windshield?”

  I stared at the wall. “Long story. It’s fine now, I fixed it.”

  “Because you got lucky. What if you did something else? Something that wasn’t fixable? This is getting out of hand. You don’t do anything at all, and when you do, it’s this.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. That was stupid of me, but I won’t do it again.”

  “Mom!” Tuney called. “We’re going to the park! We want you to come!”

  Mom looked over her shoulder. “Give me a second. I’m talking to your sister.”

  I crossed my arms, waiting for her to take off. Then they would all go to the park, and have a great time without me, because I guess that was a common thing. Even if my parents invited me, I knew how it would have ended. I would have sat on the bench, while they all played together. On the rare occasion my parents tried to talk to me, the kids would swoop in—through no fault of their own—and make sure it didn’t happen.

  Mom turned back to me. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

  I nodded. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

  The truth was that Mom had a busy life, and I didn’t fit in. It would have added more stress if I came to her with every hurt and tear, so I didn’t bother. As a metal worker, she was in high demand. A life that Orny would have when he was old enough, since he had the same magic as she did. I guess I got lucky, as well as unlucky. At least Dad and Tuney had useful abilities, both being able to work more natural elements, earth and wind respectively. I took after Grandma.

  “Maybe we can spend some time together later,” she said, echoing my father. “You and I can go see a movie.”

  “Sure,” I said as my brother yelled for her again.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom said. “He’s going to keep bugging me until I listen.”

  “I know. It’s fine.”

  She gave me a hug, and patted my back. “You’ll be okay. Chin up, and don’t spend so much time letting that jerk make you sad.”

  Right, because it worked like that. “I’ll see you later.”

  She kissed my cheek, and then I was all alone in my house, staring at the wall again.

  Chapter Two: I Should Have Just Gone Home

  I pulled at orange curls until they straightened out, and then I let them snap back to my head. I’d been at it for about twenty minutes, since my last hour of the day was for homework, and I had none. I always used my time in class to get it finished, and this hour only existed for the students who would have rather talked with friends, than worked. Since I didn’t have friends anymore, it left me with all this time.

  Our teacher had checked out mentally, so I took my phone out to see if I had texts. A habit I had, that I should have broken by now. Peter had been the only one who ever texted me, except for a rare one from my parents. Mostly asking me to do a chore when I got home, or letting me know that they were going out with the kids, so I would be on my own for dinner. Those were the nights I stayed out with Peter, doing nothing but sitting around and talking. It made doing nothing feel like something important.

  Everyone else chomped at the bit for the bell to ring, but I couldn’t have cared one way or another. After this, I would go home, watch TV, and do nothing else. Really, nothing at all. At least I was out of the house here, and it stayed quiet in some of my classes.

  The dull buzz in the room allowed me to whistle to myself, without anyone noticing. Why I did it, I didn’t know. It passed time, and distracted me a little bit.

  My phone vibrated with an alert I should have deleted a while ago. It reminded me that lacrosse practice was today. Normally, I would go and sit in the bleachers, waiting for Peter to finish up. Then we’d get something to eat, and he’d bring me to my house. Now, I had nothing to do with my after school time. I’d never liked that stupid game, but it brought me so much joy to get to see him play. It served as a break for him in his miserable life. A life that he used to tell me I made a lot better. I had been the reason he could handle it, he’d told me. Now, it felt like that had all been erased.

  I could still go… Sneak over to the field, take a peak, and then head home. I hadn’t said a single word to Peter in weeks. What if he was upset and I wasn’t there to comfort him? He didn’t have all that many people he talked to, and I’d been his closest friend for the time we dated, and even before. What if he needed someone, and was too nervous to ask me? On the one hand, good. I wanted him to suffer. On the other hand, if I didn’t make him feel better, no one would have.

  Fine, so I could stop by for a few minutes, and see what he looked like. I would know if he was upset, with one look at his face. I didn’t even have to talk to him. If he seemed fine, then I would go home. If not, then we could talk for a little while.

  My heart raced while I waited for the bell to ring, and it told me I made the wrong choice. I needed to go home, and spend some time alone. The boy didn’t want to be with me. I’d accepted that, but something in me kept fighting with logic. This was a disease, and I kept tossing away my antibiotics. It would bite me in the ass sooner or later.

  When the bell rang, I let everyone go out ahead of me. If I got to the field too early, then Peter might have seen me. The goal was to be sneaky here. While it wasn’t a skill of mine, I wanted to try anyway.

  Though I kept my head down, I felt like I had a hundred eyes on me, all knowing what I had planned. The eyes in my mind judged me, telling me how pathetic this all would be, as if I didn’t already know that. When I looked up, of course no one had been looking at me. They were all busy with their own lives, and wanting to get home. Why would they have cared about what I had planned?

  I took my time at my locker, putting all of my books away, and organizing them by size. Once I finished, I decided I could head out. Slowly, I started walking through the hall, and to the exit of the school.

  The players had already gotten out of the locke
r room, and gathered on the field for a quick talk with the coach. A few people sat on the bleachers, and my gaze honed in on the row of cheerleaders. I only knew a couple of them, but my stomach still turned when I saw Kelly sitting there, watching the boys on the field.

  Kelly… My body burned with hate for her, and it always would. She’d been Peter’s first girlfriend, but that ended more than six months before we got together. They dated from thirteen, to about sixteen. She decided that Peter’s baggage was too much for her, so she took off for a little more fun. I knew in my head she didn’t want him, but it still poked at me that he might have wanted her. Never did he give me any kind of indication that he wanted her back, or that he’d messed around on me. She didn’t give me that indication either. They were friends, who barely talked. Still, I wanted her to fall down the stairs. Before, I’d hated her for leaving him. Now, I hated her for what my mind decided about her and Peter. Now that we weren’t together, he could have gone for it again. It had been a while, and she could have changed her mind. She was prettier than me. Blond hair, green eyes, and a body without baby fat. I looked down at myself, and the set of hips I got from my mother. Peter always said he liked it, but I didn’t remember that when I looked at the tall and slender Kelly.

  I ducked behind the cars atop the hill leading down to the field. If I didn’t have orange hair, then I would have blended in better. But thanks to the colors and quantity, I had little hope. After I tied it back in a ponytail, I covered myself behind a red VW Bug, and glanced around the parking lot. Everyone who stuck around, had already gotten there. That added up to boyfriends and girlfriends of the players, for the most part. A few kids doing homework while they waited for a ride or something like that. They all had a place, and I hunched behind a damn car.

  My eyes found Peter in a second, like I’d been programmed to do so. He stood tall, with his lacrosse stick in his hand, while his arm rested on the top. I stared at his curling blond hair, wishing I could have seen his eyes. Most of his face was hidden from me, so I couldn’t tell how he looked. Then the coach went to sit down, and the boys broke off to start practice.