Chapter Twenty-Eight
Anya
"Shit!" I curse under my breath as I watch the blood trickle down my arm, the broken glass vase lying shattered on the floor. The dining room chair lies on its side, a casualty of my failed attempt to catch the falling vase. With a begrudging sigh, I open the door to the insistent knocking, my irritation mounting.
"What the fuck do you want?" I snap harshly as I glare at Caleb, Lana's companion from the Fourth of July festivities.
"Where is Lana?" he demands, his eyes darting past me into the house.
"She's not here! Not that it's any of your damn business! Now, why the fuck were you pounding on my door at this ungodly hour?" I retort angrily, my patience wearing thin.
"I need to find her, okay?" he snaps back, his frustration mirroring mine.
I scoff, "and I need to bandage my arm because you scared the living shit out of me pounding on my goddamn door and then having your ugly ass face pressed up against the goddamn window! Which caused me to fall back and knock over a glass vase and cut up my arm!" I fire back, my voice laced with irritation.
"Look, I'm sorry I scared you, I just need to find her!" Caleb pleads, his desperation evident in his tone.
I glare at him, my lips pursed tightly. "After what you just put me through, I don't give a fuck—"
Before I can finish my sentence, the sound of multiple police cars pulling up outside interrupts us. My heart races as officers swarm toward us, their guns drawn. Caleb and I stand there, frozen in shock, with our hands raised. The movement causes the blood to drip down my arm, staining the floor.
One of the officers points his gun at Caleb. "Get down on the ground!" he commands, his voice authoritative and commanding.
Caleb, fear evident in his eyes, complies with the order. He glares at me accusingly. "You fucking bitch! You called the cops on me?!" he snarls.
Before I can respond, another police officer approaches me, accompanied by a paramedic. It's only then that I realize the ambulance has arrived too.
"Miss, are you alright?" the paramedic asks softly, concern etched on his face.
I can only nod, unable to find my voice amidst the chaos and confusion. As the realization dawns on me, I'm left grappling with the understanding of how the police were called in the first place.
Shit! Jacob! I curse inwardly, but I remain rooted to the spot as another paramedic approaches, carrying a medical bag. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place her.
"Miss, I need to look at your arm," she says, her voice calm and professional. Without hesitation, I offer her my injured arm, and she begins to clean and bandage the cuts.
Once she's finished, I start to rise to my feet, but she gently stops me. "Do you want me to take a look at your head too?" she asks, her expression serious.
I give her a puzzled look. "My head?"
She nods, her gaze unwavering. "You have a nasty cut, and your cheek is a bit swollen too. No doubt it'll leave you with a black eye," she explains, her tone solemn. “We can take you to the hospital,” she suggests, her concern evident.
I shake my head, dismissing the offer. “No, that's okay. I'm fine," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
"Are you sure?" she presses, her brow furrowing with worry.
I nod, offering a faint smile. "Yeah, I just want to get this night over with," I assure her.
"Okay, well at least let me clean your head up," she suggests gently.
I nod in agreement, silently grateful for her care and understanding in the midst of the chaos.
As the paramedic guides me towards the ambulance, her words send a shockwave through my system. "Have we met before?" I blurt out, unable to contain the question that's been nagging at the back of my mind.
She gives me a polite smile, her eyes filled with a hint of recognition. "Yes, about three years ago," she replies softly, her smile unwavering. "Now, let's take a look at your head."
The realization hits me like a freight train, slamming into my gut with brutal force. She was one of the paramedics who responded on the night Paul had gone off the rails. The night he left me bleeding on the hotel floor. My heart clenches with the memory of that horrific night—the night Paul's arrest had felt like a glimmer of hope, only to be shattered when he walked free the next day, thanks to his powerful connections.
But now, here she is, standing before me once again, a reminder of that dark chapter in my past.
"He's not my boyfriend," I blurt out, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a rush of panic. I can't shake the fear that she might be silently judging me, assuming I've stumbled into another abusive relationship.
But she just nods, her expression understanding, as she finishes cleaning the blood from my face. "You don’t need to explain," she says politely, her tone reassuring.
"No, really," I insist, my words tripping over each other in my haste to clarify. "He's my best friend's friend... or well... acquaintance now... but he isn't—"
"OUCH!" I yelp, recoiling as the sting of the antiseptic wipes over the cut.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes, her voice laced with genuine remorse.
Just then, my grandparents pull into the driveway, and my stomach twists with apprehension. I can only imagine what they must be thinking.
Nana rushes out of the car, followed closely by Pops. "Anya! What happened? Are you okay? Why are there police everywhere?" she bombards me with questions, her eyes wide with concern.
I glance toward the paramedic, and she nods, indicating she's finished. "You should really get checked out at the hospital, though," she insists.
"I'm okay, really, thank you, though," I assure her, offering a grateful smile.
As Nana bombards me with questions about what happened, I recount the night's events, her expression shifting between concern and exasperation. "Well, that sounds like quite the exhausting night," she sighs, before adding, "but how did you call the police?"
"Oh, shit!" I blurt out, immediately regretting the curse word as I shoot Nana an apologetic look. I rush into the house, scanning the kitchen floor frantically for my phone. Guilt washes over me as I take in the mess I've left behind. Spotting my shattered phone under the table, my shoulders slump in defeat.
"Anya?" Pops calls out as he enters the house, his eyes flicking between me and the chaos around us. Despite the situation, he manages a smile. "The police would like a word with you," he says gently, and I nod in response, following him back outside.
After speaking with the officers and explaining the situation, they didn't charge Caleb with assault, but my grandparents insisted on charging him with trespassing and suing him for the injuries he inadvertently caused, as well as the medical bills. I tried to convince them it was unnecessary, but they were adamant. Reluctantly, I agreed, and we headed back into the house to clean up the mess.
With my grandparents' help, we tidied up, and I grabbed my shattered phone before retreating to bed. Today had been exhausting, and I decided to put off getting a new phone until tomorrow, along with calling Jacob back. All I wanted now was to rest and put this chaotic night behind me.
Despite the chaos surrounding Caleb and my possible stalker, there was a nagging feeling in my gut that something was still off. My mind kept racing with questions and suspicions about who could be behind all of this. Part of me feared it was Paul, but I couldn't shake off the possibility that it could be someone else entirely. It didn't help that I had abruptly left him two years ago without any explanation, leaving him with a possessive and controlling personality. But could he really have turned into a stalker? The thought alone made my head throb even more.
As I stumbled out to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, I couldn't believe how much of a mess my life had become once again. Why did all these things keep happening to me? And why did I always seem to cause trouble wherever I went? I grabbed a glass of water, hoping it would clear my mind, but instead it served as a reminder of how little sleep I had gotten.
In a moment of desperation, I reached for my grandfather's scotch, taking a swig in hopes that it would numb the pain and make me fall into a deep slumber. But as the burning liquid slid down my throat, I couldn't help but think that maybe not waking up would be a relief for everyone around me. They wouldn't have to deal with me and my problems anymore. Sure, they would mourn, but at least they wouldn't have to deal with the turmoil I caused since getting involved with Paul. Even though Caleb had nothing to do with Paul, his presence only added fuel to the fire.
Maybe if I disappeared, Paul would leave my family alone too. With that thought in mind, I closed my eyes and let the darkness consume me, both from the scotch and from my conflicted emotions.
I am jolted awake by Lana's sudden entrance through the door. As I open my eyes, a sharp pain shoots through my head from the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. My neck feels stiff from sleeping on the couch. I try to rub my eyes, but the intense brightness only makes it worse. I sit up as she rushes towards me with concern etched on her face. "Oh my god, Anya! Did Caleb do that?" she exclaims with worry evident in her high-pitched voice.
"Please don't be so loud," I say, wincing at the sound of her voice. She lets out a sigh when she sees the empty bottle of scotch and me lying on the couch. She reaches into her purse and hands me some Tylenol. "You didn't try to drink yourself into oblivion again, did you?" she asks with fear and concern in her tone. I wince again, not because of her voice but because she was the one who found me a year ago after my failed attempt to end my life with alcohol and pills. We had just become friends then, but she took care of me and has been by my side ever since. That was also the day I finally told her about Paul and what he did to me.
“I’m worried about you Anya”, Lana's words hang heavy in the air, her concern a palpable presence that wraps around me like a comforting embrace. I feel the weight of her arm around my shoulders, a lifeline tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of my thoughts.
"I'm sorry," I murmur, my voice barely a whisper as tears blur my vision. The rawness of my emotions threatens to consume me, leaving me vulnerable and exposed.
Her words cut through the silence like a knife, their gravity sinking into my bones with each syllable. "You need help, Anya," she says softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."
The tears flow freely now, a torrent of emotion that I can no longer contain. "I know," I choke out between sobs, my heart heavy with the weight of my own self-destructive tendencies. "But last night... it brought back so many painful memories."
As I recount the events of the previous night, Lana listens intently, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. The mystery of the texts and flowers only adds to the growing sense of unease that gnaws at my insides.
"Anya, you need to tell the authorities," Lana insists, her voice tinged with urgency. "If you think it's Paul, you can't ignore it."
But the thought of confronting Paul fills me with dread, a paralyzing fear that leaves me trembling with uncertainty. "I don't know if it's him," I confess, my voice trembling with uncertainty. "And even if it is... I don't know if I have the strength to face him."
Lana's concern lingers in the air as we both sit in silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy between us. "Okay, well what did Jacob say?" she finally breaks the quietude, her question pulling me back to the present moment. My heart skips a beat as the realization hits me like a bolt of lightning. "Oh my god, I need to call him! I need to tell him I'm okay! He must be worried sick!" I exclaim, panic flooding my veins.
She hands me her phone without hesitation, and I quickly dial Jacob's number, my fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "Hello?" Jacob's voice drifts through the line, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of my emotions.
"Jacob?" I respond, my voice cracking with emotion as tears threaten to overwhelm me. The weight of my actions from the previous night crashes down on me, and I'm filled with regret for causing him worry.
"Anya!?" His voice is a mixture of shock and relief, echoing the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.
"Jacob! I'm so sorry!" I blurt out, tears streaming down my cheeks in uncontrollable torrents.
"Baby, are you okay? What happened?" His concern is palpable, his words a lifeline in the midst of my turmoil. But the sound of his voice only intensifies my emotional breakdown, rendering me speechless as I cling to the phone in desperation.
"Anya, I'm here," he reassures me, his words a soothing balm to my shattered spirit. And then, like a beacon of hope in the darkness, I feel a familiar presence beside me, a warmth enveloping me in its embrace.
I look up through tear-streaked eyes to see Jacob standing before me, his expression a mixture of concern and unwavering support. Without a word, he gathers me into his arms, pulling me close as I bury my face against his chest, my tears flowing freely in his presence. In that moment, surrounded by his comforting embrace, I feel a glimmer of hope flicker to life within me, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.
After what seems like a long time, I wipe my face and look up at him, "How are you here?" I manage to utter, my voice barely a whisper as I search his eyes for answers.
He strokes my face tenderly, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he smiles softly. "I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't just sit and do nothing, so I left a note with my mom and told her I was coming out here," he explains, his sincerity evident in every word.
"But why?" I press, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggle to comprehend his unexpected arrival.
He kisses me gently, his lips warm against mine before resting his forehead against mine. "Because you needed me," he murmurs, his voice filled with unwavering determination. He pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace. "I would do anything for you, Anya," he continues, his words resonating deep within my soul.
I shake my head in disbelief, unable to comprehend the depth of his feelings. "Why, though?" I ask, my voice tinged with disbelief and wonder.
He smiles at me, his eyes filled with a tenderness that takes my breath away. Cupping my face in his hands, he gazes into my eyes with unwavering sincerity. "Because, Anya, I'm in love with you," he confesses, his words hanging in the air like a promise of forever.
"What?!" I exclaim, my heart racing as his confession takes me by surprise.
"Anya, I was going out of my mind last night when I couldn't get a hold of you. I couldn't think of anything else but making sure you were safe and okay!" he explains, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I have never felt that way with anyone before. I knew then that I had fallen for you, and all I wanted to do was be here with you," he declares, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
As Jacob's arms encircle me, I feel a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. His words, so filled with warmth and sincerity, clash with the darkness that threatens to consume me. "You shouldn't love me," I protest weakly, attempting to distance myself from the intensity of his affection.
But he refuses to let me retreat, pulling me back into his embrace with a determined strength. "Well, that's too bad because I do," he asserts, his voice unwavering in its conviction.
"No!" I push against him, my heart heavy with the weight of my own self-doubt. "I'm a mess, Jacob. You deserve someone who won't bring drama into your life."
He stands with me, his touch gentle as he rubs my shoulders and arms. "Anya, I don't care what kind of drama you bring," he insists, his gaze filled with unwavering resolve. "Because it'll all be worth it just to have you with me."
"Jacob, no! You're too good of a person to be with a screw-up like me!" I protest, my voice trembling with the weight of my own insecurities.
"But you're not—" he begins, but I cut him off, my words tumbling out in a rush of anguish and despair.
"I wanted to die last night, Jacob," I confess, the words hanging heavy in the air between us.
He looks at me with compassion, his gaze filled with an understanding that both soothes and terrifies me. "I know," he murmurs softly.
Confusion clouds my thoughts as his revelation sinks in. "You know? How?" I demand, my mind reeling with the implications of his knowledge.
"Lana told me," he explains, his voice gentle but firm. "On her way out to work, she saw me in the driveway while I was on the phone with you before I came inside."
A surge of conflicting emotions washes over me at the realization that Lana had shared my darkest secret with Jacob. Part of me resents her for burdening him with my pain, while another part feels a strange sense of relief that the truth is finally out in the open. But above all, I am left grappling with a profound sense of disbelief that Jacob, with full knowledge of my brokenness, still chooses to stand by my side. Who in their right mind would want someone like me?
“Anya, I want to be with you and help you through your pain. Lean on me and give me all of it! Give me all of you! I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Jacob declares, his words filled with unwavering determination.
But I scoff, emotions swirling within me like a tempest. “Jacob, you can't! You're leaving for the Army, remember!” I shout, the weight of impending separation pressing down on me.
His expression falls, and he approaches me with purpose. “I know, and I made that decision before I met you. But I believe we can make it work,” he insists, his voice steady despite the uncertainty looming over us.
“No! No… we can't, Jacob,” I protest through tears. “I, uh, I think you should go.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “No, Anya. I'm not leaving you. I don't care if you try to push me away. You deserve love, Anya. You deserve to be shown real love every day—”
“YOU ARE LEAVING, JACOB!” I scream, my breath coming in ragged gasps as tears stream down my face. “YOU ARE GOING INTO THE ARMY AND LEAVING ME…” My voice cracks, my anguish pouring forth in waves. “I'm gonna be… I'm gonna be all alone,” I confess, the weight of my fear crashing down upon me.
Before I can collapse, he catches me, wrapping me in his comforting embrace. “You are not alone, baby. You still have your grandparents, Lana, and like I said, you'll have me. I know I won't be here physically, but I promise you I will write you every day while I'm gone, and I'll call you whenever I am allowed.”
He lifts my head gently, his gaze filled with unwavering sincerity. “But I'm not leaving for another month, so why don't we make the most of the time we do have together?”
I nod weakly, my heart heavy with uncertainty. “Just please promise me you won't hurt me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the tumult of my emotions.
He smiles softly, his touch gentle as he brushes away my tears. “Baby, I can't promise that, and you know that. But I can promise you that I will never hurt you the way that he has.”
With his words offering a glimmer of hope amid the darkness, I wipe my face and lean into him, finding solace in his embrace.