Chapter Twenty-Seven
Allie
CRASH
I shoot up in bed, immediately grabbing the knife I keep beneath my pillow. My fear intensifies as I hear the loud sound of something moving downstairs getting closer.
No. Why is this happening again?
As quietly as I can, I shuffle over to the corner near the stairs. I crouch down, staying hidden in the shadows.
Footsteps sound up the stairs, and I readjust the knife in my hand and get ready to launch myself at them.
If they come up the stairs, they will go straight for the bed and I can catch them by surprise from behind.
I can do this. Attack, stun, run, find a way to call for help.
The intruder takes a few steps and I close my eyes for a brief moment and repeat my plan.
Attack, stun, run, find a way to call for help.
A man in a black jacket with his hood up stumbles towards the bed and falls face first onto the bed, whispering something under his breath.
This is my moment. I can jump on him, stab him in the back and make a run for it.
3…breath…2…breath…1 GO!
I launch myself like a tiger pouncing on its prey from a tree above and land right on the intruder. He grunts and attempts to turn over, but I slam the knife into his back, right under his shoulder blade.
“FUCKKK!” His body twists in pain and I jump off him before he can trap me under his large body.
Making a run for it, I grab my spare knife hidden under a loose board on the stairs but come to an abrupt halt, my socks sliding on the floor, when I hear the intruder yell.
“Allieeee why!!!”
I spin around and my stomach drops when I see Landon struggling to remove the knife from his back. I stand in complete shock for a moment before his groaning in pain brings me out of it.
Running over to the light switch on the wall, I flip it on and get a good look at the horror scene playing out right in front of me.
Blood covers the gray bed sheets and Landon has tears streaming down his face. Panic causes my chest to constrict and my mind flashes back to my parents.
Blood. So much blood.
My knees shake and I collapse to the ground, my eyes never leaving Landon, who is pulling the knife from his back. He drops the knife to the ground and falls back on to the bed, his chest rapidly rising and falling.
The world blurs in front of me and I try to calm my breathing, but it’s useless. I just stabbed my best friend in the back…literally.
What the hell did I just do?
Allie…help him. My heart stops as what sounds like my mom’s voice filters through my head.
Tears fall faster down my face as her words play over and over in my head. And then I realize that I’m not hallucinating. I am remembering the words my mom uttered as my dad faded away.
“Allie. I need you.”
Landon’s voice filters through my mind and my eyes fly open to see Landon sitting up on the bed, his shirt gone and his arm extended backwards, holding his shirt against his back. For the first time, I see that his tattoos extend beyond his arms and neck. His sides are covered with various geometric patterns with vines woven between them.
Blood drips down the front of his chest, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
I stabbed Landon.
“Allie girl. I need your help. Please.”
Nodding, I stand on shaky legs and move closer to him.
I can do this.
“I–I,” I say as I walk up to him, my hands and legs shaking profusely.
Landon shakes his head. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I should not have come in here how I did and I will explain in just a minute, but right now, I really need your help.”
Everything hits me at once, and I walk on unsteady feet to the bathroom and grab a towel. And when I come back, I walk up to Landon and stand to the side of his legs. And that’s when I get a good look at the damage that I did. The cut may be small, but I can tell it is deep. The serrated blade pierced though the skin causing the jagged edges of the cut to allow me to see things I would rather not.
Taking a deep breath, I press the towel to Landon’s back and his body visibly winces.
Landon bows his head into his hands and mutters, “Fuck.”
Leaning closer, I rub his back and then a smell hits me and it’s not blood.
Cinnamon. Smoke…Whiskey.
Straightening my spine, I press the towel into his back, and Landon sits back up. He is avoiding my gaze, and a slight twinge of anger replaces the fear and guilt of just stabbing my only friend.
Minutes tick by and my anger rises. My hands are no longer shaking and I try to calm myself down, but no matter what way I spin it, I cannot get rid of the anger.
Landon came into my house while I was sleeping. He didn’t call. He didn’t wait until he heard back from me to just walk in. He did nothing that allowed me to gain trust and a routine. He just walked in, clearly drunk, and now he is sitting here with a stab wound because of it.
What the hell is my life right now?
Half of me wants to scream at him and the other half understands that we all have our vices, and I just confirmed Landon’s. But I could have killed him. If he wasn’t moving around, I could have slit his throat and then I would not only have his blood on my hands but his life, too.
Panic and anger fight against each other as the silence that is normally welcomed sits between us like a loaded gun.
I stare down at the man who is supposed to be a predictable constant in my world, who is now an unpredictable variable that I know is struggling, but has just shown me a side that I didn’t expect.
Landon scrubs his hands over his face and rests the side of his head in his hands. He looks fucking exhausted. My anger fades away slightly. I know he is struggling. I know the last thing he needs from me is to pester him with questions…especially after I just stabbed him. But I don’t think I can go another second without confronting the elephant in the room.
“Allie. I’m —-”
Shaking my head, I interrupt him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. Can we just cut to the chase and skip the “I’m sorry’s”? What the actual fuck were you thinking, Landon? I could have killed you!”
Landon sits up, and I continue to hold pressure on his back. “I know. I’m—”
I furrow my brows at him and give him a pointed look, and he stops mid sentence.
“Allie. I know you don’t want to hear me say it, but I need to. So just give me a chance to explain. Please.” His voice is full of exhaustion and I know he knows he messed up.
Now the question is, do I give him a chance to explain or kick him out and try to fight this battle in my head alone?
His storm filled eyes stare deep into my soul and I know I need to give him a chance because if the situation were reversed, I would beg for a chance to do the same.
“Please Al. Just let me explain. I will tell you everything. I promise. And you know I don’t break my promises.” Landon pleads.
Tipping my head back, I stare up at the ceiling and take a deep breath.
I can do this. He isn’t going to hurt me. He is not going to hurt me.
Before I even realize it, I am nodding my head and when I return my gaze to him, I see his body visibly relax.
Landon opens his mouth to speak, but I stop him. “Before you start, we need to take care of this. Because you already ruined my bed with your blood and I’d rather not stand here all night holding a towel to your back. But then we can talk.”
He nods his head in agreement, and I move my hand from his back. I make my way to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit because I know he isn’t going to let me take him to the hospital.
Taking the kit out of the cabinet, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And this time I allow myself to look. My eyes go straight to my blood-stained hands. My under-eyes are almost black and I look like I haven’t seen the light of day in weeks. I desperately want to jump in the shower and clean my hands off. But I can’t. I need to help him. I rifle through the kit to see if I have everything I need when I hear Landon’s voice. “Hey Al.”
“Yeah?”
“Nice arm.”
I peek out of the bathroom, confused, and see him looking in the standing mirror in the corner of the room. His body is facing me and he is checking over his shoulder to look at the wound.
Dried blood coats his chest and down his back. “It’s going to be a nasty scar.” He meets my gaze through the mirror and continues, “But I can say I got it from a badass chick that jumped on me like a tiger protecting what’s theirs. It’s a better story than any of my other scars.” A small laugh escapes him and it must be infectious because I find myself doing the same.
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes, “Yeah. Well next time, maybe…I don’t know, call a girl before coming in her house at two am and maybeee then you won’t experience the wrath of my knife.” I watch his face drop, but I flash him a smile and see his body relax before I turn back to grab the first aid kit.
One hour and countless stitches later, Landon and I sit down on the couch. He shifts nervously in his seat and I know he is struggling with words on how to explain what the hell just happened.
Grabbing a blanket from the basket, I toss him one since he is only in a short sleeve that he got from his truck. The fire went out hours ago with the snowstorm still hanging on. I haven’t ventured outside to chop more wood, so we are left to the heater which has seen better days.
Not wanting to overwhelm him, I look out the window and stare at the snow coming down.
I stabbed Landon. I freaking stabbed Landon Hayes. What is wrong with me? Who am I?
Landon’s voice snaps me out of my head, and I turn to look at him. “I just want to say that I am really sorry. Please understand that I am not mad at you at all. I deserved it. It never should have happened and I will forever be sorry.” His robotic voice is back and I snap.
Sitting up and pulling a blanket over me to hide my shaking hands, I level my gaze with his and say, “I appreciate that. And you’re right, you did deserve it. But if I am going to understand it, do not talk to me like you have a robot arm shoved up your ass. If you want me to forgive you? Then you need to speak from your heart and take the mask off. We have been sitting for months without asking questions, but now is the time to talk. And I know I have my problems, but it’s pretty obvious what mine are, but you are a master at hiding yours. Which is fine because you may not know the true root of what is causing the never ending storms in your mind, but if you want me to continue to let you in my house, in my personal space, behind my walls, you need to start talking. I could have killed you. So the next words that come out of your mouth better be raw and honest truth. Or I will kick you out.”
His eyes grow wide and I don’t blame him. I am shocked by my own words. Before my life turned upside down, I was what one would call strong willed and not one to back down from a challenge. I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind, but that all changed with him . He took my confidence and knowledge that my words do have power. I haven’t felt that sense of empowerment in months…until just now.
Maybe it’s because I want to try to help Landon the best way I can after all he has unknowingly done for me.
Landon tilts his head back and scrubs his hands down his face and I swear I hear him mutter, “Fuck,” under his breath.
I watch in silence as he struggles to find the words to explain tonight’s events and possibly the last few years of his life.
Landon finally meets my gaze, and his eyes are bloodshot, and tears are welling in his eyes. “Dammit Allie. I have no idea what to say.”
“Just start talking. Even it doesn’t make sense. I will piece it together, but you need to give me something because everything in me wants to get in my car and go back to Alabama. And that is the last thing I want to do right now because this place is growing on me.”
He nods, and I watch every emotion run across his face in a matter of seconds.
“It started three years ago. I lost a set of twin adult sisters and it was terrible. What I saw was the most horrific scene I had ever seen. Wes and I were the only ones on that call and I’m happy. Because Noah and Gray could never handle that.
“I came home, and we both took a week off. The first few days were awful, and I didn’t sleep, so I got drunk one night to make myself forget. Which wasn’t the first time, but this time was different. The next day, I woke up, and the pain was still there. So I did it again. And again. And it became a routine after a bad mission. The alcohol numbs the pain and makes me forget for a brief moment that I failed not only the victim, but their families and myself.”
Tears well in my eyes as his own fall rapidly down his face.
“It started as situational, but then as time went on, the memories of their faces started haunting me day in and day out until I was having to do something to take the pain away just to function. I tried every other method, but nothing silenced the voices in my head like the liquid death did. Now here we are years later. The pain is still there and now I live at the mercy of something that could kill me at any second.”
I was right. I didn’t want to be right, but I was. And I hate it. I hate it so freaking much because this isn’t something I can fix. And it’s not because I am nowhere in the right state of mind to help him, it’s because the only person who can fix this disease is himself.
In front of me I see a very broken man who is barely surviving life and the only reason he is, is because he is being held up by the grips of a liquid running through his veins that could kill him at any moment.
Tears flow freely down his face as he turns his body to face me. He leans forward and tugs at his hair, that is longer than normal. Something inside of me feels like it is breaking at the sight of him crumbling in front of me.
His head snaps up. “I thought I was getting better. I was going longer without a drink, but then that fucking dream came again last night and it all came back. I felt proud of myself because in your presence, I can ignore my demons and try to cope with the losses. But then that goddamn dream hit me again out of nowhere and all my willpower was gone. I–I tried Allie, but all I saw was—” He gasps and looks around frantically, fear evident all over his face.
I try to piece together his words, but I am completely lost. What dream?
Landon rocks back and forth and he mumbles under his breath. I try to catch the words, but it’s hard to understand through the tears.
What do I do? What is happening?
His breathing increases and I know he is seconds from passing out. I have to do something.
I can do this.
Reaching out, I touch his shoulder with my uninjured hand and his head snaps up. His eyes are bloodshot and my heart aches.
His eyes dart from side to side and I know he is frantically trying to figure out what is going on and he sits up.
“Landon. You need to breathe. You’re going to pass out.”
“I–”
“Just try. I know you can do it. You are stronger than you think. I promise.”
Landon frantically nods, and I mimic the motions of deep breathing to match his own movements as I rub my hand up and down his arm.
Slowly, his body starts to settle and I can tell he wants to slip his mask on, but before he can, I say, “Don’t. Stay at this moment. You don’t have to talk, but don’t slip back into that void.”
His eyes close for a brief moment and he moves his hand to rest on top of mine, intertwining his pinky with mine. The action stuns me for a moment, but watching his body slowly calm down makes the worry go away.
Avoiding my gaze, he says, “I keep seeing you dead.”
“What?” My eyes go wide and I stare at him like he just spoke in a different language.
“The nightmare? I keep seeing you dead. I have the same reoccurring dream. I come over, see blood in the kitchen, and find you dead.”
Words fail me. Why does he keep dreaming me about me dying?
“The first time, my parents found me outside, passed out next to my truck. That was after we didn’t have our routine. Then Christmas happened, and I thought I was dreaming…but I wasn’t. I barely slept on the mission, so when I came home and was exhausted. So I let the voices in my head win, only to be woken up by the same dream. Except this time I made it out of my driveway.”
This is all my fault. I triggered him. I caused him to take forty steps back. I am the reason he broke into my house, which ended in him getting stabbed. It’s all my fault.
“Al. Look at me.” Landon’s voice cuts through my spiral and I open my eyes, which I didn’t realize were closed.
“This is not your fault. You are not the cause of my nightmare. I’ve had nightmares for years. I have just never tried so hard in them to save someone. And maybe it’s because I already knew they were gone, so I didn’t try as hard. But with you, I know you’re here. I know you are living and breathing, but in my dreams, you slip through my fingers. And every time it feels more and more real. And this time…yeah.” He shakes his head and his words trail off.
We sit in silence, our hands still interlocked. I try to process everything. But it all keeps coming down to the same few principles.
I was right, and I didn’t want to be.
I stabbed Landon.
We are both full of pain and heartache beyond compare. We were strangers just a few months ago until the universe threw us together. Landon has become the friend I never expected to need or even want, but even after hearing what lies beyond the pain and the nagging thought that I may never be able to help him, I still wouldn’t change it being him that picked me up on the side of the road if I could.
Call me crazy. Call it the pain. But in this moment, I truly believe that two individuals can coexist and try to heal themselves while existing on a parallel path to the unknown.
Wiping the last tear that drifts down my face, I turn to look at Landon, only to find him already staring. His eyes are still full of pain, but I know that a weight must be lifted off his chest.
He searches my eyes and I can see he is debating on saying something, so I give him a reassuring nod. “What do you need?”
His shoulders relax and he bows his head and tries not to meet my gaze, in almost a whisper, “A hug?” He looks up at me like he just suggested something illegal.
This man is full of surprises. His mood changes on the dime, but that’s what living with trauma and grief is like. It’s a never-ending cycle day to day, second by second. And I may not be able to help him, but I can do this.
Flashing him a smile, I untangle my pinky from his and open my arms. “Bring it in Storm.”
His faces flashes in confusion, but it’s quickly gone and replaced by him bringing me into his arms and I feel his body visibly relax. And with that, the voices in my head fade into the background.