Love You Always (19 page)

And now she hates me. Hates me because I’m not like her, she can’t reach me, as she puts it, and she’ll hate me because I tried to take Marcus away. She’ll never forgive me for that. She may act like she does, but she won’t. I wouldn’t, if she had done that to me, but of course that’ll never happen because who’s going to love me? Surely not in the way Marcus loves her and the way she loves him.

I’m a slut remember? That’s all everyone will see me as.

So what am I living for? Why do I even bother? Because I’m a chicken shit. That’s why. I’ve thought about it a few times but I can never go through with it.

How did Spence do it? What was going through his mind when he drew that razor over his wrists? I know he was scared. He had to be. I remember he was so scared to go to the doctor’s office for a blood test. I teased him about that, I called him a sissy, and he told me to shut up, but we laughed about it, the both of us, because he knew I was right.

So slitting his wrists took a hell of a lot of courage. I know he was scared, probably frightened out of his wits. Even so, he didn’t chicken out. He went through with it, because life for him sucked and to live was unbearable. Fucking Dad. Fucking asshole pervert. How could he do that to his own child? What a sicko! And he thinks I’m screwed up.

My tears flow again. Stop thinking about Spence. Stop thinking about Dad. Shit. I hate crying because it makes me feel weak, but sometimes I can’t help it—my tears just come when I don’t want them to.

Spence, give me the strength to do it. Help me do what you did. I want to be with you again, because you’re the only one who doesn’t make me hate myself. Well, that’s not true. I hate myself for not being able to save you in time. But maybe you would’ve hated me if I did. Would I want to be saved if I was able to get up the courage to slit my wrists? Maybe I’d be pissed too, if I really wanted to die and somebody saved me. How would that be saving me if I wanted to die? That would be like making me continue living a life I hate, and being around people I despise. That wouldn’t be doing me any favors. Not if I wanted to die.

Yeah, I need to let go of my guilt for not saving Spence. He just would’ve done it again and it would be horrible to think what he would’ve had to go through trying to do it a second time. That would suck big time, having to build up his courage again. Yeah, he’d have hated me for it, that’s for sure.

I should probably get drunk before I do it. That way I won’t feel the pain so much and I’ll be so wasted I probably won’t hesitate to make the slice.

The clock says 1:14 a.m. Laura and Marcus are probably asleep by now, so they won’t hear me. Still, I creep as quietly as I can downstairs to look for booze. This house has a wet bar so that’s the first place I look. I need something strong. Vodka. Yes, that’ll do it.

I unscrew the cap and drink it straight out of the bottle. Wait, I’d better get myself upstairs to finish this, otherwise I may make too much noise trying to get back upstairs and wake up Ms. Righteous.

I go straight to the bathroom. I lower the toilet cover, sit myself down, and chug about half of the bottle.

As I stare at the bathroom door in front of me, I’m feeling warm and my head’s getting woozy. With the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat from my upper lip. After a few more minutes, my eyelids go heavy. Okay, I’m feeling the buzz now. Ooooh, yeeeaaah.

I set the bottle down on the floor as carefully as I can, but it tips over, and shit, it spills out. Well, at least it fell over on the small oval rug. No noise to wake up Ms. Hoity-Toity. Haha. Shhh. I gotta keep it down. Fuuuuck, I can’t screw this up.

Okay, I need to find a razor. The medicine cabinet, of course. But wait, I should start the hot water in the tub, right? Okaaaaaay.

I pull the knob that plugs the tub and turn on the hot and cold water. While that’s going, I open the medicine cabinet.

Damn it. Why aren’t there any fucking razors in here? I keep rummaging and stuff starts falling out. Shiiiit. Keep the noise down, damn it. But I’m fumbling because my body doesn’t want to cooperate since I’m stinkin’ drunk.

Hold back, tears, don’t go getting all crybaby on me now. But again, my body refuses to listen and my frustration takes over. Fucking great! I even mess up when trying to kill myself. Can’t I do anything right?

I fall to the floor, defeated. As I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, woozy as I feel, my eyes gaze at the bottle and my mind clicks. Freaking genius! I’m going to break it. Too bad if I wake up the house, I’ll be done by the time they storm in here. Yeah. Just crack that sucker in half. Hurry up before I pass out.

I grab the bottle by the neck and knock it against the sink. Glass shatters all around, in the sink, on the floor, and it makes a freaking racket, but I’ve accomplished my goal so what the hell do I care?

I pick up a perfect piece from inside the sink to use as my accomplice in this crime. Pieces of glass stick to my feet as I head for the place I will end my life, but I grit my teeth and keep going—the pain will end soon. As I set myself into the tub, I hear noises outside the door. Pounding, pounding, Laura, she’s yelling at me. Shut the fuck up, I wanna yell to her, but I don’t, I won’t hear her for very much longer.

Ahhh, the water’s a little too hot, but fuck it, it’ll soon be over and it won’t matter. The door is rattling and I hear Marcus saying something to Laura, but I can’t understand what it is. What does it matter? I’ll be good as dead soon. I’ll be with Spence and we’ll laugh again, laugh at all these morons.

I hold the glass to my wrist, and the tears come flowing out again. My head pounds as hard as my heartbeat. Go ahead, do it. Make the cut, there, right there on that vein, the large one, the one that’s green. C’mon, what the fuck’s the matter? Spence is waiting for me, he’s lonely and I’m lonely, and I should do this. Yes, do it. Do it!

But, my fingers don’t wanna listen, they don’t wanna move—they can’t make the slice.

I’m sobbing because I’m a chicken shit and I can’t do it. I can’t do what Spence did. Not even drunk, can I do what he did.

The door flings open and Marcus and Laura rush in. They stare at me for a moment, then Marcus holds Laura back as he throws towels on the floor. Then Marcus takes me in his arms and carries me out of the tub. As he carries me towards the door, I look back at Laura, she’s crying while she’s following us, and there’s blood on the floor, their blood, from the broken glass cutting them through the towel.

I’m soooo tired, sooo tired. Marcus lays me down on the bed, and Laura removes the glass from my feet.

I sob even harder now, because they’re bleeding too, yet she attends to me first. When she’s done, my sister sits on the side of the bed with tears rolling down her face. She knows what I tried to do. They both know.

“Oh, Jade. I can’t lose you too,” she says, her voice cracking between her sobs.

I throw my arms around her and she hugs me tight while cradling me.

“Help me, Laura,” I manage to say.

“I will, Jade. I will.”

And at this moment, even in my inebriated state, I’m feeling tremendous love for my sister.

I don’t want to leave her. I want her back in my life. Maybe it’s not too late to save me, even if it was too late to save Spence.

Oh God, I want to be saved.

Please save me, Laura.

~* Laura *~

Marcus leaves the room as I help Jade change out of her wet sleepwear. The bed sheets are wet where Marcus laid her down, so I change those too while Jade sits in the chair watching me. She’s pretty drunk.

I hope I got all the glass out of her feet. I’m sure when she sobers up she’ll feel the pain if I’ve missed any. I’ve dabbed rubbing alcohol on her wounds and wrapped bandage around her feet.

The bed’s done so I tuck Jade in. She seems like a child at this moment. I remember doing this when we were kids and the flashback brings tears to my eyes. I miss that Jade—the Jade who wasn’t this messed up.

“Laura, I–I–I have something to tell you,” my sister says, slurring her words. She looks as though she could pass out any minute.

“Why don’t you get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No.” She grabs my forearm as if in desperation and reclines forward towards me. “If I don’t tell you now, I might never tell you.”

“Okay, Jade, okay,” I say, seeing her need to tell me whatever it is so badly. “What is it? What do you want to tell me?”

She relaxes now that I’ve relented to her demands and plops her head back down on the pillow.

“Spence.” Her eyes fight to stay open, she’s so tired and drunk, but she’s battling herself to stay awake.

“What about Spence?” I ask when she hesitates.

She closes her eyes and tears trickle down her face.

“Dad.”

Again she pauses. She starts to cry again.

“Jade, what is it?” Why am I getting a queasy feeling in my stomach, as though something bad is going to happen?

“Spence killed himself because of Dad.”

“What? What do you mean?” Oh God, what is she talking about? Did Spence see Dad do something terrible?

“Dad did something horrible.”

Oh God.

She’s drifting. I shake her gently because now I need to know what she means.

“Jade, what did Dad do? Tell me.”

“Dad hurt Spence,” she weeps, her sadness intermingling with her drowsiness.

“Hurt him how? Did he beat him?”

She shakes her head.

Oh no. Please don’t let it be what I think it is. I hold my breath.

“Dad molested him, Laura.” Jade puts her arms around me and weeps even harder.

Oh dear God! My mouth drops open in disbelief.

I hold my sister until her weeping subsides, then I ease her back down to the pillow. The alcohol takes her completely now and she drifts off. I stare at her sleeping face for a moment, my mind reeling, still finding it hard to believe what she’s just said.

Then the tears flow because I do believe her. Spence wouldn’t have killed himself unless it was something that terrible. How could Dad do this? Did Mom know and was the reason she left? How could she leave her children in the hands of a child molester?

I put my hands to my face and I sob. I sob for Spence, for what Dad did to him, for not being there to help him, to save him. Why didn’t Jade tell me this before? Poor Jade. Having to keep this secret all this time, to carry this burden by herself, and to have to live with Dad and know the truth about him, about what he did.

Did Dad molest her too? No, she would’ve mentioned herself in it if he did. And I suppose he would’ve molested me too, so he must’ve only had this sickness for boys, for Spence.

Oh, Spence, my poor, dear little brother.

When I finally compose myself, I leave Jade’s room. Marcus is in the bathroom at the tail end of cleaning up the mess as he wipes down the sink with a dry towel.

He turns to look at me when he sees me in the mirror. He puts the towel down and his arms encompass me. He holds me, cherishing me, comforting me as I cry in his arms, telling him what my Dad has done.

“What are you going to do?” he asks me when I’m once again composed.

“I can’t let my dad get away with this. He’s sick and needs help. And Spence needs justice, and Jade and me too.”

“We’ll get your sister help too.” Marcus takes hold of my hand. “I’ll contact Angela’s therapist and see if she can take Jade.”

“That sounds wonderful, but I don’t know if I can afford her right now. I was planning to contact a therapist through a clinic.”

“Laura, don’t worry about the money. I’ll cover it. This is my gift to you for being here for me when Angela was kidnapped.” He smiles lovingly at me.

“I’ll repay you someday, Marcus. I promise,” I tell him, smiling at him appreciatively.

“You don’t repay gifts. They wouldn’t be called ‘gifts’ if you did, right? Just accept graciously. I want to do this for you, and for Jade.”

This man is something else. He’s just too perfect. I need to find a flaw just so I know he’s human. Doesn’t he ever flub up?

“Sit on the toilet,” he tells me.

I look at him with surprise.

“I want to check your feet. You didn’t yet take care of yourself, right?”

Oh. Yeah, I hadn’t even thought about that. I set myself down on the toilet seat cover.

He takes out the rubbing alcohol and a ball of cotton. As he dabs at the cuts under my feet, I flinch, but I continue to stare at this beautiful man who cares for me. My heart is his; I know this already.

When he’s done attending my wounds, he picks me up and carries me back to my bedroom.

“Wow, this is what I call service,” I say.

“I’d ask for the return favor, but then it’ll be a never-ending cycle,” he teases. “Besides, you may get a hernia carrying my bulk around.”

“Yeah, a hernia’s not too sexy.”

“I might just take my favors in room service though.” He lifts his eyebrows up and down twice, looking rascally.

“Well, room service will have to stand in line behind my rain check.”

“So when’s that rain check gonna get cashed in?”

I chuckle and give him a kiss before he puts me down.

“How do your cuts feel?” I ask him.

“What cuts?” He smiles.

“How about yours?” he asks.

“My what?”

“Cuts.”

“What cuts?” I smile back.

“Did that antacid work? How’s your stomachache?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“What stomachache?” I replicate his cocked eyebrow.

Marcus gazes into my eyes and his smile tells me he knows what he’s in for. He pulls off his tank undershirt and throws it on the floor. We both strip ourselves naked and our lips converge into a devouring kiss. His hands fondle me, grope me, but he never mishandles my flesh, but rather glides them over my body with sensuality, like an artist kneading and smoothing out his clay sculpture. Every touch brings my loins to ache with anticipation of pleasure—and he does not disappoint.

He takes me with the vigor of a tempestuous storm, ravishing me to the heights of sexual delights. My desire for him causes my body to quake and quiver with each thrust of his lust into my wanting sex.

Our breaths huff out with sounds of moans and soft cries as our sweat infuse from our slick bodies while we grapple each other, intertwining our thighs, connecting through our emotions and carnal desires.