Finding London (Flawed Heart #1) (18 page)

I don’t know what to do to help her. She begs me not to turn her in. She swears that she wouldn’t make it in another home, and I believe her. Sarah has been destroyed by all the monsters in her past—men who have abused her, scarred her, and left her with nothing but demons that invade her mind. She tries to fight them. I know she does. She doesn’t like being like this, but she hurts, and I don’t know how to make her better.

Over the past couple of years, Sarah has offered me sexual favors more times than I can count. But she only does it because she doesn’t know how to show me that she cares for me in another way. She hasn’t had healthy relationships in her life to use as examples. Being used by men is all she knows. She thinks she owes me some sort of payment. She can’t grasp the fact that, because I love her, I could never take a piece of her. I would never accept payment in any form. She doesn’t owe me anything.

And I do love her more than anything else in this world. She’s all I have. I would do anything to save her.

Sarah and I panhandled and did various work around Texas until we eventually made it to Arizona. We never set out to come here. Honestly, we didn’t really care where we ended up as long as we were together and not put back into foster care. Once we got here, we decided to stay. Under-the-table jobs are easy to get here, which is helpful. The fact that we don’t freeze our asses off outside in the winter is also a strong check in the positives category. Sure, the hot-as-hell summers suck, but on the deathly hot days, we can find somewhere with air-conditioning to hang out. Even on the scorching days, the nights are manageable. But the biggest positive, especially for Sarah, is that it’s not Texas. We’ll never go back there.

I love Sarah like a sister. I always have. It’s not that I don’t find her attractive because I do. She is the most beautiful person I’ve known, inside and out. But neither of us is emotionally stable enough to be lovers. That’s not what we need. What we both need is a friend, a confidant, someone to have our backs, someone who truly loves us…family. Sarah is my family, plain and simple. It’s her and me against the world.

Unfortunately, Sarah doesn’t do well when she’s left alone, even when she promises me that she’ll be fine. I try to be with her as much as I can. I try to find jobs that we can do together. But it doesn’t always work out that way. She tells me that she’s going to go panhandle or shop for food or anything else that sounds reasonable. But, more often than not, when I come back, she’s crying and wasted. She doesn’t tell me how she pays for the drugs, but deep down, I already know.

I know she’s in pain and that sex and drugs are her methods of numbness, but it kills me a little more every time it happens.

I’ve spent countless days at the public library, researching ways to help her, both with her addiction and her mental well-being. But nothing I’ve tried works. I’ve been tempted to turn her in, so she can get help, but she told me that if I ever did that or left her, then she would kill herself, and I believe her. I can’t lose her. The world can’t lose her. She’s good. She’s pure. She’s special. And when she figures out how to see all of that in herself and get better, she’s going to make this world a better place. She has so much to give. I just have to figure out how to make her see that.

“Come on.” I reach my hand out to her, and she takes it. “Let’s get you in a nice warm bath.”

Sarah loves baths. Up until we were able to afford this room, they had been few and far between. Even growing up in different homes, she hadn’t been given the luxury of baths too often.

The tub in this room wasn’t the most appealing when we first got here. But I went out and got some Comet and bleach, and I scrubbed the tub and the surrounding walls until they were shiny. Now, Sarah can take a bath whenever she wants.

I lead her to the bathroom, start the water, and pour in the lavender bath bubbles that I picked up for her at the Dollar Store. She loves the smell of lavender, even the chemical-imposter variety.

When the tub is full of water and bubbles, I turn to leave, but she grabs my arm.

“Please don’t leave. Get in with me.” When I don’t answer, she gives me a pleading, “Please.”

Sarah entered the bathroom in only her panties. So, after I strip down to my boxers, we both get in the water. I lean against the back of the tub, and she rests between my legs, her back to my front.

We sit in silence for a few minutes before I ask gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. She never wants to talk about it. I wish she would. I think it would help.

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

She nods, her long hair moving across my chest. “I know. Thank you.”

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to make her let me help her.

“We could splurge on a movie?” I suggest, willing to do anything to make her feel better, to take her mind off of all the horrors in her head.

We actually go see a movie a couple of times a month, but we usually go to a matinee because they’re cheaper, and only one of us pays. The one who pays sneaks the other one in through a back Exit door in the theater that isn’t monitored by cameras. Sometimes, we get lucky and spot a large group of friends walking in. We stick close to them, and when the attendant takes the pile of tickets, they assume everyone is accounted for.

For being homeless, we have a pretty good life. Well, I guess some things could be better.

I rest my head against the top of Sarah’s, and she leans back into me. My arms wrap around her waist, and I pull her in tight, letting her know that I’m here, that I love her.

Finally, she answers, “No, not tonight. I’m not really in the mood.”

“Okay.” I kiss the top of her head.

“Loïc, promise me that you’ll never leave me.” Her voice comes out in a broken sob, and I know she’s crying.

“You know I could never, would never.”

“Promise.”

“I promise, Sarah. I love you more than anything. I would never leave you. Nothing can tear us apart.”

“Nothing can tear us apart,” she repeats softly.

“Nothing.”

“I love you, Loïc. I’m sorry about earlier. Can you forgive me?”

“You don’t have to apologize, and you’re always forgiven because I love you. Nothing you could ever do would change that.”

She turns to the side now, her cheek resting against my chest. “You saved my life,” she says softly. “No matter what happens, I need you to know that you saved my life, and I’m so thankful for you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Sarah. I don’t know how, but I promise you that we’ll get through this. It won’t always hurt this much, okay?” I need her to believe my words even though I’m having a hard time believing them myself.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Sarah falls asleep against my chest, and I hold her until the water goes cold. I wake her enough to dry her off, get her dressed in something comfortable, and get her into bed.

I fall asleep beside her, grateful that another storm has passed—at least for now. Tomorrow, I’m going to find a job that we can both do. I’m never leaving her alone again.

I wake with a start. The bed is moving violently beneath me. The room is dark, and I fumble to find the light switch above the bed. I click it on, and the space floods with pale light.

“Sarah!” I scream when I see her.

She’s in the bed beside me, convulsing and spitting foam from her open mouth.

“Sarah!” I shake her. “Oh my God, Sarah! Please don’t do this! Sarah! Sarah!” Tears fall down my face, and I pray to whoever will hear me.

I reach for the cheap motel phone screwed onto the wall. When I pick up the receiver and listen, I don’t hear a dial tone.

I hate this fucking place!

I knew that the phone connection was hit or miss, but I’ve never cared as much as I do in this moment. I wiggle the cord attached to the receiver and push it up. Finally, I get a dial tone. I push 911 as fast as I can. Thankfully, the phone stays connected long enough for me to tell the operator everything that’s happening. I beg her to tell the paramedics to hurry.

I don’t know what to do to help Sarah. She’s no longer shaking, but her mouth is ajar, and traces of spit are falling from it. Her eyes are closed, and she’s motionless. Her arm is dead weight, hanging limply off the side of the bed as I hold her in my lap. I rock her back and forth and beg her to stay. I blink back tears and notice the empty pill bottle and glass on the end table.

Oh, Sarah.

I hold my hand against her chest, but I can’t feel her heart beating. “Sarah! Please! Please! Please!”

I gently lay her on the bed. I hold her nose while I breathe into her open mouth. I have no clue how to do CPR properly, but I can’t just sit here and let her die. I put my hands together and press against her chest, like I’ve seen done in movies. Nothing happens, but I keep going while begging her not to leave me.

There’s a knock at the door, and I run to open it. The paramedics come in and get to work, putting her on a stretcher. I hand them the empty pill bottle and tell them what I think happened. In a matter of seconds, she’s being loaded into an ambulance.

As they close the ambulance doors, I cry out, “I love you, Sarah! I’ll see you soon!”

I will see her soon.

I run back into the room and get dressed. I don’t know how long it will take me to get to the hospital if using the bus, so I opt to call a cab. I don’t know why I didn’t go in the ambulance. They didn’t offer, and at the time, I didn’t think I could, but people do it in the movies. Maybe they didn’t extend an invite because they think I’m the one who did this to her. Or maybe they needed space to work on her. I know I couldn’t have done anything to help, but I feel so lost without her.

When I get to the emergency room, I run in like a crazed person. The receptionist flinches when my palms find the counter with a smack.

“A girl was just brought in—Sarah Berkeley. Well, you wouldn’t know her name if she’s not conscious yet. She overdosed on some pills, I think. I need to know how she is doing.” I think I might have frightened the lady behind the desk.

“Sir, you need to calm down. A minor was brought in, but I don’t know what her status is at this time. But I will tell you that, unless you are her parent or guardian, then no one will be releasing that information to you.”

“I am her guardian. I’m the only family she has!” I yell.

“Can I see your ID?” she asks calmly.

“I don’t have an ID.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you have a seat? Then, I’ll see what I can do.”

Two days have passed. Not only did that bitch have no intention of helping me, but neither did any of the bitches to follow. I’ve never met a group of people so intent on following the rules as people who work in a hospital.

I can’t prove to them that I have a right to know how Sarah is. I can’t even prove who I am. I don’t own a single form of identification. I’ve begged. I’ve pleaded. I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve been about two seconds from being arrested, but through it all, nothing. Not one word about Sarah has been given to me.

I haven’t left the waiting room in two days. I’ve been living off of the drinking fountain and a couple of bags of chips from the vending machine—not that I’ve been real hungry anyway.

I’m not sure what I should do, but I know that leaving here isn’t an option.

My elbows rest on my knees, and my fingers tug on my hair as I lean into my hands. I pray silently to Sarah, begging her to come back to me.

“Sir?”

I look up to see the older lady from the reception desk peering down at me. She looks like a wicked witch. Then again, they all do.

“She’s gone. You should go.”

Her words resonate within me.

I repeat them again and again in my head, trying to make sense of them,
She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

Using all the energy I have left, I stand and walk out of the hospital waiting room. I hope never to step foot in a hospital again. The lobby alone is the most depressing place I’ve ever been. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to actually be in a room.

She’s gone.

The words don’t add up, yet I know them to be true. I think they’ve been true this entire time, probably before she even left our hotel room
.

What am I going to do without her?

Without Sarah, I have no purpose. I have no reason to live. She was everything.

I was naive to think I could change her. I should have gotten her help sooner.

A million what-ifs, should-haves, and would-haves flood my mind, but in my heart, I know it doesn’t matter now.

Nothing matters now.

Nothing will ever matter again.

As I walk away from the hospital and leave my only family behind, forever, I hear my father’s words.

“Strength gives you courage to face things, even when you’re afraid.”

Well, I am afraid.

I’m afraid of loving.

I’m afraid of losing someone I love.

I’m afraid that, because of this fear, I will never truly love anyone ever again.