Trials (Rock Bottom) (12 page)

I put a hand up to my mouth. He takes a shaky breath and continues.
“Sing me a love song. Sing me to Heaven…”
He finishes, the last note lingering in the air, soft and sweet and agonizing.

My knees give out under the weight of my stress and pain. My emotions have been all over the place. Here I was, coming to scream at him and tell him that I thought he was a piece of shit. Now I find myself sobbing on the floor of his apartment because of the crushing way that I love him.
That I can’t live without him. That he needs to tell me it’s not true.

I put my forehead down
on his cold floor and my hands in my hair. I cry into the floor, my wails hysterical and frightening. I hear Jeremy sit the guitar down on the floor and step over to me. He kneels on the floor next to me, scooping me up in his arms. I wrap my hands around his neck.

“Shhh,” he comforts me. “It’s okay.”

“It’ nn-not o-o-kay,” I weep. “Y-y-you lied to me! Y-y-y-you k-killed that poor girl!”

He silent as he runs his hands through my hair.
“Do you honestly believe that?” he whispers in my ear.

I squeeze my fists in his hair, my frustration unbearable.
“Nn-no! But I sss-should! I want to believe it! It doesn’t make s-sense that you’re innocent!” I scream.

My breath is coming is hi
ccups. Jeremy’s shoulder where I rest my head is soaked in my tears. I’m just now realizing he’s shirtless.

He pulls me back to look into my eyes. His blue eyes are dark and not sparkling with life like they used to. “Dylan, I’m going to go turn myself in.”

My breath catches. My sobs quiet in shock. “What?”

He gives me a half-hearted smile.
“It’s okay. This is what’s right.”

I shake my head. “B-b-but you
said you didn’t do it.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Not intentionally…”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “What does that mean?”

He releases me to run his hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. There’s enough evidence to convict me and I’d rather not go through a trial. I’m going to go turn myself in and that will be that.”

My breathing increases and I feel like there’s a vice on my chest, squeezing my lungs. “No! No, you can’t. You can’t, Jeremy. You’ll go to jail!”

He looks at me sympathetically. “I know. But it really doesn’t matter anyway. I have…nothing…” He looks down at the floor.

Lost in thought, I begin to look around the room. I see for the first time what a mess it is. There are clothes thrown around, and papers strewn on the floors and counters. A newspaper, showing a picture of Scott and me during his proposal, is lying on the floor close to the couch. I bite my lip, hard.

I do
n’t notice him looking up at me until his head turns to follow my line of sight. He looks at the picture on the floor and then back at me. “Hey,” he whispers, using his finger to pry my lip from my teeth. “It’s okay, Dylan. It’s alright. I just want you to be happy and safe. And you are.”

I glare at him, my sobs starting again. “D-d-
do I look fff-fucking happy?!” I yell.

He gives me a sad smile. “No, but you will be. You were before I came back into your life and you will be again. I’m just…not right for you.”

I put my hands back in his hair and grip him tightly. “I was miserable before you came back in my life. I was a shell of a person. You were right, I am naïve and I was pretending. I need you to stay with me.” His eyes are pained as he stares at me. “Jeremy,” I plead. “I nnn-need you to stay! Please! Please don’t l-leave me!”

I hear knocking on the open wooden door.
“Mr. M?” I hear Rich’s deep voice ask. Jeremy looks towards him and nods, and then back at me again. “I have to go,” he says, stroking my cheek. He stands up and grabs a shirt off the couch before stretching his hand out to help me from the floor.

I jump up and toss my arms around his neck, my full weight thrown on him. “No!” I scream hysterically. “No! No don’t go!”

“Dylan,” he says, trying to walk towards the door. He reaches up and tries to unclasp my arms.

“No!” I scream. I pull my head from his shoulder and
see his eyes are tearing. I’ll do anything to make him stay. I won’t let him leave me. I begin to kiss him. I kiss him all over. His mouth, his cheeks, his chin. I take his ear in my mouth and bite it.

“Damn it,” he whispers. “Rich, a few minutes, okay?” He walks a few steps until he r
eaches the door and shoves it closed. I put my mouth on his lips, and this time, he kisses back.

We kiss passionately for
a while, his hands resting on my lower back. I’m so overcome with desire that I can’t take it anymore. I jump and throw my legs around him, wrapping them around his waist. I’m rewarded by his low groan.

“Dylan,” he almost pleads between kisses. “I’m nothing.
Nothing worthy of you. Nothing worthy of life.”

“I l-l-love you!”
I yell, and continue to kiss him. Tears fall from my face onto his. I can’t imagine how I must look right now. A sobbing, whining child- throwing myself all over him. But that’s what Jeremy can do to me. I can’t help it. The thought of him in jail and away from me makes me crazy. “Make love to me. Make love to me and don’t go.”

“Dylan…” Jeremy croons. He sets me down on my legs again. My arms are still wrapped around his neck. I’m using him to hold
myself up. I can barely stand.

I cry into his shoulder as he runs his hands through my hair. “Don’t cry for me,” he whispers in my ear. I shiver, his voice sending chills down my spine. He releases his hand from my hair and peels one of my arms from around his neck. I feel his hand trail up my inner arm until he re
aches my hand and he grabs it.

“Wha
t are you doing?” I whisper.

“Shhh…” he says as
he starts to slowly twirl me.

My lips manage to rise in a small smi
le. “Are you…dancing with me?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

I shake my head. It reminds me of when we used to dance in my kitchen after he detoxed. Our happiest time. “But, there’s no music,” I say. We continue to twirl slowly around to a silent tempo. We’re silent for so long I think he didn’t hear me.

“
Maybe I didn’t treat you, quite as good as I should have,
” Jeremy sings softly into my ear. I grab the back of his neck.  “
Maybe I didn’t love you, quite as often as I could have.
”

“Oh, Jeremy,” I
breathe, tears sliding down my face.

“
Little things I should have said and done, I just never took the time. You were always on my mind.
” Jeremy inhales a shaky breath. We stop dancing and I pull away to look at him. He’s smiling at me, but I see the pain behind his smile. He stares deep into my eyes, locked into our world together.

“
If I made you feel second best, I’m so sorry I was blind. You were always on my mind. You were always on my mind.”

“Did you write that, too?” I ask him breathlessly. His places his forehead on mine and lets out a soft laugh.

“No. That would be the great Willie Nelson. I borrowed it.”

We begin to move again in a circle as he hums the melody of the first song.
So beautiful and lovely and painful. “What about that song?” I ask.

“Yes, I wrote this song.
When I was young…for my brother’s funeral.”

“It’s very beautiful,” I complement. Beautiful doesn’t describe it
accurately enough.

“It used to remind me of him. But I was singing it just now for you. I was thinking how nothing would be better than to have you here with me one more time.
To comfort me. I guess someone heard me. My one last song…” He releases my hand to trail his hand down my cheek. “And here you are, comforting me.”

Good. That means he’s staying.
I feel myself relax, as if a weight has been lifted from me. I smile and run my hands through his hair. In this moment, I feel so complete. So right. He leans in and places a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. I let him because, what does it matter now? The damage has been done. I’m Jeremy’s again, not just in my heart but now in my head. As I should have been always. As I have been always.

I drop my hands from his hair and he takes them in his own.

I look down at my engagement ring as I hold Jeremy’s hand. The big heavy square glistens up at me, as if it’s laughing. As if it knows.

“You’re going to be so well taken care of. You won’t
have to worry about anything.” I smile at him, looking up from our entwined hands.
I always knew you’d take care of me, Jeremy.

“He really loves you, too. And he’s a
good
man,” Jeremy says, looking up at me.

Huh?

My face must convey my confusion. “Scott…” he says, as if it should be obvious. “Your
husband
?” he continues when I still look at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“He’s
not
my husband!” I snap. “What are you trying to pull?”

He drops my hands and shakes his head. “Nothing, Dylan.
Nothing. Listen, I’m going to have Rich take you home.”

What? What the fuck? Wait…

“Are…are you still leaving?” I ask in disbelief.

He sighs heavily. “Yes.”

I feel the panic rising in my throat. Tears come to my eyes again. “No, dammit!”

Jeremy walks over to the door and opens it, revealing Rich sitting on the stairway. “Rich, take Dylan home. I’ll drive myself and you can get the car from the station.”

“No!” I scream and run over to him. I grab on to his neck.

“I love you,” he says, kissing my cheek. “I’ll always, always love you.
I’m loving you the right way now. I am.”

I feel Rich pulling me away from Jeremy. “Let go of me!” I scream.
Rich pulls me hard enough that I let go of Jeremy’s neck and he starts to walk down the stairs. I struggle to get out of Rich’s grasp.

Once Jeremy is out of sight, I turn around and try to push myself away from Rich. “Rich, stop him! He’s not guilty! Please, don’t let him do this.”

“This is what he wants to do, Ms. Dylan. We have to let him.”

Eventually, I become tired enough that I can’t struggle anymore. Rich lifts me up in his arms and carries me down the steps. In the parking lot, I search for his car in vain but see that he’s already left. Rich lays me down on the back seat before we drive towards my home.
“I’m working on it, Ms. Dylan. Trust me, I’m working on it…” he says to me.

I sob quietly into my hands,
realizing something frightening and terrible. My dad wasn’t talking about Jeremy during our conversation. He was trying to warn me.
I’m the person who will never be happy.

Of course, the news of Jeremy’s confession spreads like wildfire, and I am unable to escape it. I hear it all day at school and see it on every newspaper. Even as the week is coming to a close, stories still continue to circulate. Every day that goes by, my depression grows deeper and deeper.

I know that in the last
two weeks, I have lost a considerable amount of weight. I feel constantly nauseous and I throw up from the stress. I worry about Jeremy. I worry about breaking Scott’s heart. I don’t know whether to stay with him or let him go, knowing that Jeremy can’t and doesn’t want to be with me.

Scott has been handling it well, but he’s home so little now that it’s easy for me to at least act semi-normal when he’s around.
Because we’re so close to graduation Scott has become busy preparing to take over the legal side of his father’s company. It requires a lot of travel. Scott says he feels better about leaving me alone knowing my father is still staying here. I’m not sure how he will feel when my dad leaves tomorrow.

I can tell that my dad knows how depressed I am. He hasn’t said anything, but he looks at me as if I’m fragile. Like he’s waiting for me to fall and break into a million pieces. I feel like I already have.

As each day goes on, I’ve become weaker. The nausea and sadness never ending. Today has been worst of all. I find myself curled up in a ball on the couch, unable to get up. I’m reading the text messages I received from Mr. Schuster the day the fingerprint story broke.

D. Schuster: Dylan, I heard about why you quit.

D. Schuster: I just thought I’d tell you about an inside report I found before you heard about it on the news. Can you call me?

D. Schuster: Okay, I haven’t heard from you so I have to tell you before you see it on the news.

D. Schuster: Mason
is going to be arrested. His fingerprints were on the bag with the victims. He’s going to lose the case.

D. Schuster: Dylan,
are you alright?

All of his messages that day pretty much say the same thing, and I torture myself by reading them over and over
. His fingerprints match. He’s going to lose the case.

I stand up to go to the bathroom to vomit yet
again. After I few minutes, I try to make it back to the couch when I stop in surprise. I see Scott sitting in the place where I was sitting a few minutes before.

He looks up at me as I approach and gi
ves me a half smile. “Hey, honey. Still feeling sick?” he asks, patting the couch beside him. I sit and lay my head down on the arm rest.

“Yeah,” I sigh. My nausea increases when I see him, my guilt overwhelming me. “What are you doing home?”

He shrugged. “I’m only home for a few minutes. I just wanted to check on you. Brought you soup,” he says, motioning to the counter in the kitchen. He rubs my legs with his hand and I smile at him. He doesn’t smile back.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, concerned. He looks so sad.

Scott grabs my left hand and looks at my ring, watching it sparkle in the light. It falls left and right as he moves my hand because my fingers are smaller now than they used to be. “Dylan…” he begins, clearing his throat. I worry my lip under my teeth. “Dylan, I can’t figure out why you’re so unhappy. I know you’re unhappy. So don’t deny it.”

He looks at me, but I say nothing. I don’t have the energy to try to deny it anymore, to him or anyone else. He sighs and continues. “Do you still love him?” he asks me, looking down.

My eyes tear up and my heart flutters. “Yes,” I say, guiltily. “But, I love you, too. And I think we can be happy together.”

He nods his head. “I knew you still loved him. I’m happy you told me the truth. It didn’t bother me as much because I tho
ught that we could be happy. I thought eventually you would just move on from him and forget him.”

Scott looks up at me again, his blue e
yes wary and tired. “I’m trying,” I begin. “I was doing better until all of this mess. But it’s over now. He’s in jail and that’s that. I just need time,” I almost beg. Is he going to leave me, too? Will I be alone in the end, after everything?

“Give me more time?” I ask, petting his hand. I’m so absurd. I’m such a terrible person.
This man loves me so much. Look how I’m hurting him
.

“Dylan…” he begins, bu
t my phone rings. The ringtone breaks through the heavy conversation, making us look away from one another. I get up and walk over to where my cell phone is sitting on the dining room table. Looking at the caller ID, I see that it’s Rich.

I stare at the phone, confused, debating for a moment whether or not to answer it. I figure that Rich probably isn’t calling me for small talk. I slide my finger across the screen and place it up to my ear. “Hello?” I ask.

“Miss Dylan?” I hear Rich’s deep voice ask me.

“Rich?
Everything okay?” I shoot a nervous glance towards Scott. He stares back at me warily.

“
I need your help.” He sounds confused and angry.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“I have something I need to show you. I think I found proof that Mr. M is innocent. I think I can get him released.”

I stiffen and stare wide-eyed at Scott. “What?” he mouths.

I don’t say anything in response to Rich. “Can I come and show you? So you can tell me if it means anything?”

“Uh, yeah.
Yeah of course,” I mutter, still dazed. What could he possibly have to show me?

“Okay. On my way,” he says, hanging up his phone. I hear three beeps as
the phone call ends.

“Okay,” I mumble to no one, bringing the phone away from my ear.

Scott looks conflicted, as if he wants to ask me something. “Who was that?”

“Rich. He said he found something that affects the case.
Wants my opinion.” I search Scott’s face for a reaction as I speak. His face is blank, a perfect poker face of no emotion.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, his blue eyes searching mine.

I shrug. “Sure.”

A few silent moments later, there’s a knock at the door. I shake as I walk to open it, terrified to see what Rich might show me. As the door opens and Rich appears in front of me, I see him clutching a jewel case in his massive hand.

I invite him to come in and we walk to the living room. Sweat is pouring from Rich’s forehead, and I know it must be from stress because it’s chilly outside.
Is that good or bad?

Rich stops when he enters the living room and sees Scott sitting on the couch. He turns back to glance at me and then glances back towards Scott. “Hello,” he mutters as he passes him and walks to my DVD player below my TV.

“What are you doing?” I ask him as he opens the jewel case. He places a small disk into the player.

“I told you I wouldn’t let him be put away,” Rich says. He pushes the door of the DVD player closed as I reach for the remote on the arm of the couch and turn the TV on.

A picture on the screen appears of a window obscured by some branches. Through the window, an entire bedroom is visible. We see a black dresser and bed, along with a safe, and the door to the bedroom. It takes me a few moments to recognize the bed, but I know it must be Jeremy’s bedroom in his house.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom flies open and Jeremy walks through it, a young girl following behind him. She’s very pretty and curvaceous, her blonde hair flowing down her back as she jumps up and reaches around Jeremy’s neck. She pulls him into a kiss.

Oh my God, that’s Evangeline Carter
! My mouth goes dry.

They continue to kiss passionately as she reaches down to undo Jeremy’s pants. I snap out of my shock and my stomach rolls, seeing Jeremy fondle this young girl.

I flip around to face away from the TV, holding my stomach. I look down at Scott and he eyes me apprehensively.
Damn
.
But how am I supposed to not care about seeing this?

“Rich, I don’t want to see this,” I say, annoyed.

I see Scott reach next to the couch and pick up a smaller remote. He hands it to Rich. Rich thanks him and presses a button, telling me to turn around again.

When I turn around, I see Jeremy lying in the bed under the covers, his chest obscured with her blonde hair. I swallow hard, willing myself not to throw up.

They stay like that for a few moments until his chest rises and falls, deeply and evenly. Her head slowly picks up and she looks at him for a moment. When he doesn’t move, she throws her legs over the side of the bed and pulls on her shirt and skirt.

She gets up from the bed and moves around to the opposite side. She ducks and is off camera for a moment. “What is she doing?” I ask.

“Wait,” Rich says. “Here it comes.”

She appears again, lifting a bag that she wasn’t carrying before. She opens it and rummages through it. She pulls out what looks to be money and stuffs it in her pocket, dropping the bag to the floor.

My mouth drops open. “She’s stealing from him?” I ask, aghast.

“There’s more. Watch,” Rich instructs as the victim walks to Jeremy’s closet. She looks behind her should
er at him for a moment before she pulls the doors open and walks in. She’s in the closet for a few moments before she walks out, carrying a handful of clothing. She holds up a plastic bag with her other hand and places the clothing at her feet so she can open the bag. She pulls out a smaller bag, a needle, and what looks like a spoon.

I gasp.
“Holy shit,” Scott mutters.

She eyes the bag for a moment and then looks up to Jeremy on the bed. She puts the needle in her mouth, holding it with her teeth, as she pulls a lighter out of her pocket. She pours some of the powder from the bag onto the spoon and holds the rest in her palm. She flicks her lighter and puts the spoon
over the flame. She studies the content for a few moments before removing the needle from her mouth and using it to draw in the liquid from the spoon.

She looks around her and ducks again when her eyes lock on something. She stands back up aga
in after a few moments, the spoon now replaced with a belt. She slides the belt over her arm and pulls it tight. She lines up the needle and inserts it into the crook of her arm. As she pushes the plunger in, she throws her head back and closes her eyes.

She removes the needle and thr
ows the belt off of her arm. The belt must hit louder than she expected because she jumps before walking quickly to the door. Before reaching the door, she falls sideways into the wall, folding in on herself. She opens the door and exits, still leaning over as if she wants to vomit before shutting the door behind her. After a few moments of watching Jeremy sleep soundly, none the wiser, Rich turns the tape off.

I stand completely still, barely breathing, while I absorb what I had just seen.

“But you said you didn’t do it.”

“Not intentionally…”

Not intentionally.
Oh my God.

“He didn’t do it. He’s not guilty,” I whisper in awe. I turn my head to look at Rich, who still appears stressed and upset. “How on Earth did you get this?” I question him.

“I have my ways. A lot of money and digging and threatening.”

I shake my head. “How did you even know it existed?”

“I found a couple of cameras in the bushes along the first floor a while back. When I was searching for my own evidence after they found her body, I saw some duct tape wrapped around a branch in the tree outside of his bedroom window. When I found the cameras in the bushes, they used duct tape to hold them in place. I knew there must have been another camera. I figured I would try to find the tape and hope it had this night on it.”

I’m completely dumbfounded.
“Can this evidence be used? I mean, how am I supposed to explain this?” Rich asks me, nervously.

“It can be used,” Scott says from behind me. I almost forgot he was here. I turn and look at him, catching him looking up at me as he continues to speak. “One of the state’s Supreme Courts had a similar issue occur. They ruled that illegally obtained evidence can be used if it clears the person from the crime they’re being charged with.”

Oh my God…so that means…

“He’ll be let go?” I ask Scott.

Scott lowers his head so he can look towards the floor, unable to look at me. “Yes. I’m almost sure.” His voice sounds so sad, so defeated.

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and put my hand over my heart. Waves of relief and thankfulness to whatever higher
power exists flow from my soul. I start hyperventilating and I’m unsure why.

“Dylan?” Rich asks me, grabbing my arm. I hear him by my ear. “Are you alright?”

“Thank God, Richie,” I exhale sharply. I turn and throw my arms around him, crying into his shoulder.

I peek up in time to see Scott stand. He barely looks up at me from under his beautifully long lashes. His handsome face is pale and worn. “I
, uh…” he mumbles. He runs his hand through his hair. “I should go.”