by W Winters
Do you think that makes it healthier? The text stares back at me on the brightly lit screen and I want to answer yes. Of course it is. This time isn’t anything like what happened years ago. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he poses another question.
If she knows, does that make it okay to allow your interest to grow to obsession?
Obsession may be the wrong word. I think possessive is better. She’s mine. My reason to move on from what happened before. My desire for more. My only way to cope.
It’s different this time. This time she wanted me there.
Wanted? he presses, and the shame of why I’m even here in this anonymous chat makes my chest feel tight. As in past tense?
She asked me for time apart and I’m having difficulties. I’m slipping back into old habits.
It’s called stalking, Daniel.
I’m aware of that, Marcus.
I use his name, just like he uses mine. No one else knows it’s him, but I do. Because years ago, when I watched Addison finally sleep without crying, when she could say Tyler’s name with a sad smile instead of barely restrained agony, he was there for me. All those years ago when she moved on and I was still struggling to cope with the guilt of Tyler’s death, Marcus is the one who stopped me from pulling the trigger with a gun pressed to my head.
It took nearly two years before it came to that point. A year and a half of following her, of watching her and living out my pain vicariously through hers. And months of slowly losing myself and any reason not to end it.
She kept me sane in a way she’ll never know as I watched her grieve with the same pain I had.
But as the months went by, she started to smile again.
It made me feel worse than the day Tyler took his last breath.
She got better, when I didn’t. Every laugh, every bit of happiness made zero sense to me.
I could only cope through her sadness. I understood it; I needed it.
Does she know about the past? he asks me.
She’ll never understand, I type into the chat box, but I don’t send it.
I shake my head, remembering how I followed her everywhere after Tyler’s death. How I watched her run and that alone was enough to take my pain away. She loved him after all and felt responsible like I did. And if she could move on, so could I. But I could never move on from Addison.
Five years ago
* * *
I tell myself the only reason I’m on this train is to speak to her.
To tell her it’s not her fault and I’m the one to blame.
That’s the reason I’ve followed her, stalking her in the shadows and silently watching her as she struggles with what to do.
I tell myself that, but I don’t move. I’m struggling too.
The train comes to another stop and my grip tightens on the rail as I wait to see what she does. Where she goes, I’ll go.
I need to make sure she’s okay, that she doesn’t have the same thoughts I do. I’ll protect her.
Her hoodie is up, hiding her face as she leans against the wall of the train. Unmoving.
My body tightens, wanting to go to her. To hold her, to check on her and make sure she’s still breathing. She saw him die like I did. That changes you. There’s no way to deny it or to recover.
It will forever be with us.
Chapter 17
Addison
* * *
It’s funny how time moves.
It crawled along for years before and after Tyler came into my life. Each day’s only purpose was to be a box on a calendar I could cross off with a deep red marker. If I bothered to even count.
But the days with Tyler, when I was really with him? They flew by. Because time is quite like fate, it’s a bitch.
And the same thing happened with Daniel. The days were whirlwinds of moments that made me feel like everything was alright. Like it was okay to simply live in his bed and sleep in his arms. Like the selfishness of ignoring everything else was how life is supposed to go.
But the past few days without him … it’s been worse than the slowest pain. There’s a coldness that feels like it’s just below the surface of my skin. As if my blood refuses to heat. And the nights are filled with memories designed to play on my weakest moments.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My focus is shifted to the front door of my apartment as I sit cross-legged on my sofa with my laptop cradled on me. The screen’s gone black and I don’t know how long it’s been like that.
He knocks again. There’s only one person it could be. Daniel.
Every day and night since we last talked I’ve thought about him. And about what I need to do. Each text he sends is met with a short response that makes the pain in my chest grow.
I’m no longer in denial. It’s time to move on. That means moving on from everything, including Daniel. And that hurts. But it’s supposed to.
My neck is killing me from bending over the computer for hours. I have a standing desk; I should really use it, but I don’t. I spend hours a day sitting on the sofa with my computer in my lap while I Photoshop my pictures. There are at least three dozen more I want to edit and post before going out and searching for my next muse. Although I don’t know if I’ll find it here. Maybe it’s time to move on already.
My sore body aches all over when I stand, but that pain is temporary, so I don’t mind it.
Each step to the front door makes me feel like I’m running in the opposite direction from where I was going days ago. I’ve come to the only logical decision there is and I’ve never liked breaking up with anyone. The way Daniel made me feel is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Wild and crazy, I suppose. Thanks to the late night sex and not caring about anything, not even our next breath so long as our skin was touching and our desires seeking out refuge in each other.
Pausing with my hand on the doorknob, I let out a deep breath. He’ll understand. He’s probably here to do the same. This thing between us could never last.
I feel like I’m being stabbed in the heart, but the moment the door is opened, the pain dims and that other feeling, that fluttering sickness I have trouble describing takes its place. The kind of pain that I want more of, but it scares me.
“Daniel.” I whisper his name as his dark eyes meet mine and then soften. His leather jacket creases as he puts his hand on the doorframe and leans in slightly.
“You still mad at me?” he asks with a deep timbre to his voice that speaks to vulnerability and I answer him honestly, shaking my head.
“I’m not mad at you.” Forgiving others is easy. It’s forgiving myself that’s hard.
Daniel lets out a breath and starts to come in, but I can’t do this. It’s better to stop it now and not do the easier thing. Which would be to fall back into bed with him and numb the pain with his touch.
It’s not healthy.
My palm hits his chest and his expression turns to confusion, but he stops just outside the threshold.
“I’ve been thinking,” I start to tell Daniel and he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing.
“This sounds like the we have to talk conversation.” There’s a trace of a threat in his voice.
“It kind of is,” I say softly and the pain in my heart grows. “I’ve just been thinking about every way this is going to end.”
“End?” he asks incredulously, moving forward and closing the distance between us. He’s standing on the threshold now.
It’s hard to speak, but I have to be honest with myself and him. I have to protect myself.
“I’m not sure we should do this at all.”
Stunned is how I’d describe the look on Daniel’s face, and it surprises me. “It doesn’t make sense for us to continue this-”
“You don’t want me?” Daniel asks, cutting me off in a voice devoid of anything but sadness. I’ve never heard the sound from his lips before. The tone pains my heart in a way nothing else ever will. I know it for a fact. Some things simply break a piece of you that can never
be mended.
“That’s not what I meant. Not at all. I didn’t anticipate this happening,” I try to explain. What I thought would be a simple conversation ending with Daniel leaving me behind escalates to something I hadn’t anticipated. “I didn’t think you would care.” My words come out rushed.
“You thought I wouldn’t care that you’re done with me?”
“I’m not done … I could never be done with you. But this,” I gesture between us, “this is something I know is going to hurt me. And both of us know will never last.”
“I’m not Tyler. That’s why?” Daniel’s words should be cutting. They should hurt me. But I only hurt for him. How could he think that?
I have to swallow hard before I can tell him, “I want you.” I almost say Tyler’s name. I almost tell him how I wanted the love Tyler gave me and how I wanted to love Tyler back but never did. But I can’t. I can’t bring him into this. “It’s not that at all, Daniel. I’ve wanted you for the longest time and I hated myself for it. We can’t even have a simple conversation about anything before…“ I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to let any more words pass.
“You hate yourself for wanting me?” The sadness is gone and anger quickly takes its place. Suddenly I’m suffocating, finding myself taking a step back and then another although he stays in the doorway, radiating a dominance barely self-contained.
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper and Daniel flinches. The emotions cycle through him one by one. The anger, the shock, the frustration from not knowing what to do.
And I’ve felt them all, I’ve also suffered the torture of not knowing what to do for so long. Every day that I felt loved by Tyler but knew I loved Daniel more. I know his pain as if it was my own. But there’s no way to make this right. And the sooner this is over, the better.
“I want you Daniel, but it’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong,” he says and his words come out strangled, his breathing heavier. He almost takes a step forward and then stops himself, gripping the edge of the doorframe and lowering his head, hanging it in shame. I’m reminded of the day I first met him and that makes the agony that much worse. “I don’t know how to …” he trails off and swallows thickly.
“There’s no way this is going to be more than … than what we were doing.”
His head whips up and his dark eyes pin me in place. Daniel’s always been intense, always been dangerous. For others, I’m sure it’s similar. But they’ll never feel this. Not the way I feel for Daniel.
“Why does it need to be more right now? Why can’t we hold on to what we have?”
“It’s not good for either of us, Daniel,” I whisper and wrap my arms around my chest. I don’t know how else to explain it and how he could fail to understand that.
The silence grows. All I can hear is my own breath as Daniel stands there stiffly, staring at the faded carpet beneath his feet. Finally, he looks me in the eye again and the intensity and pain there shatter me to the very center of my soul.
“I know that you belonged to Tyler first, as much as I hate to admit that. I hate to say his name. I don’t want to imagine what used to ...”
“Daniel, please don’t,” I say and reach for him, my heart hurting for his and I hate myself in this moment. Why did I have to do this?
“We can’t change the past, Addison. I wish I could. But it’s over now. And right now I want you.”
There was never a point in my life where I thought I’d hear those words from Daniel. And the shock, the sadness, and the conflict of not knowing how to protect myself and what I should do keep the words I’m desperate to say trapped in my throat.
I want to believe what he’s saying. But he’s already said the words I need to hold on to the conviction of leaving him. There will never be more.
“You know where to find me if you want to see me.” Daniel’s last words are flat, with a defeated tone.
I can’t form a coherent thought as he turns his back to me and walks off. This isn’t what I wanted or how I’d planned for it to go. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say, but my choked words are barely audible to me, let alone Daniel as he disappears in the distance.
I worry my bottom lip and a storm brews inside of me. A storm that feels as though it’s never left, like it was only waiting in the darkness. Preparing for when it could come out and destroy the little piece of me that remains.
It’s not until Daniel’s gone that I close the door, lean my back against it and fall to the floor on my ass.
I’ve made a mistake. More than one. But I can’t keep going on like this, making mistake after mistake and running from them.
Helplessness overwhelms me and I’ve never felt weaker. Why is it all so complicated? Why can’t love and lust be one, and right and wrong easier to decipher?
Chapter 18
Daniel
* * *
Five years ago
* * *
Every small movement makes the pain spread deeper. I shouldn’t have called him a drunk. I shouldn’t have yelled back when my father yelled at me. I know better. I brought this on myself.
I let out a deep breath, but even breathing hurts. Carter will cover for me. He always does. I swallow thickly as I hear heavy footsteps coming to my door and my heart pounds for a moment, thinking it’s him. Thinking I fucked something up.
Like I did last night, losing thousands of dollars. Thousands and thousands of money and merchandise are gone. Stolen off the truck. And it’s my fault. I’m the one who opened it, getting the fucking CD Addison left in there and not remembering to lock it back up.
This is all because of her.
There’s only a slight bit of relief when I hear Tyler yell out my name as he bangs on the door.
I struggle to put my shirt back on, but do it through clenched teeth while wincing. It was only a belt, I grit out with the part of me that thinks I’m pathetic. That I deserve all of this and more.
I open the door without thinking of the cuts on my back and the pain sears through me.
“Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”
Tyler’s question is met with nothing from me. Not a single emotion that I can give him.
“You don’t have to make her feel like she’s not welcome.”
Anger makes me swallow hard. I still don’t respond.
I’ll never tell him how I feel about her, but at least now I know how she feels about me.
“Are you going to say anything?”
My lips part and I want to give him something, anything. But the fact that I went out of my way for her last night … maybe that’s why. Maybe she knows I want her. The idea hits and steals my words from me.
“She’s a good person,” Tyler tells me as if that’s why I stay away from her.
“I love you, Tyler. God knows it. But you’re a fucking idiot.”
I should have kept my mouth shut, but everyone has their limits.
“She loves me and she’s not going anywhere,” he tells me with a confidence I’ve never seen in my baby brother.
My baby brother who’s oblivious to what we really are and what goes on here.
My baby brother who’s never been struck once by my father.
My perfect baby brother who wants to make everyone around him smile because he’s never known pain like I have.
“She only loves you because she has no one else who loves her.” My gaze pins him where he is as I say the words. “Remember that.”
Loneliness is a bitter pill to swallow. I know I’ve brought it on myself, but still. A sarcastic, humorless huff leaves me as I grab the bottle of whiskey and take a swig.
It must be karma.
I left Addison to her loneliness so I could survive.
Now she’s leaving me to mine to ruin me.
Touché, little love.
The whiskey burns as I take another heavy drink. And with it every possibility of where I lost her flashes in my mind. The times from back when we were young
er and I held back so much, to only moments ago when I didn’t hold back a damn thing.
I lick my lower lip and then pick the bottle back up, but a timid knock stops me from chugging back more of the amber liquid.
“Daniel,” I hear Addison’s voice from beyond the door. Hope flickers deep inside of me, flirting with a darkness that’s nearly consumed me.
My heart pauses. So do my lungs. It’s only when I hear her again that they both decide to function again. She’s here. She came to me.
My blood buzzes as I stand up and make my way to the front door. All while I stride to the door the alcohol sets in, and I hear her call out again. “Please open the door, Daniel.”
She’s mid-motion of knocking again with her mouth parted and more to say when I pull the door open. She looks shocked and even flinches slightly.
“Daniel,” she says my name with a hint of surprise, but quickly her expression and tone change. “I wanted to explain.”
And that right there is why I didn’t let that hope grow. The coldness in my chest puts out the small flame. It’s hard to school my expression. It’s hard to hide it from her. But a part of me is screaming not to. To let her see what she’s doing to me. To make sure she knows she’s destroying me bit by bit.
“Explain?” The question comes out with a bit of anger and I have to readjust my grip on the door and look away from her for a moment.
“You don’t owe me anything, Addison,” I tell her and turn to walk down the hall, but I leave the door open. I let her come to me willingly.
When I hear the door shut and her following me inside, a smile slowly forms on my face. It’s only a trace of genuine happiness. But at least I know she can’t let me go as easily as she thinks she can.
“Daniel, please,” she says as she catches up to me in the living room, gripping my shirt and making me turn to face her.
