Thirty - River
Numbness fills every molecule in my body. The past day's events play like a movie that happened to someone else. Not me. Never me. There's no way I went from the best fucking vacation to this dismal existence bathed in loneliness.
Emptiness surrounds me—a nothingness sinking deep into my bones. The world around me keeps moving and has been for the past two days. Leaving me here, in the home I once shared with my mother. She’s the same woman who suffered while I was away, having the time of my life and insisting to the neighbor that she was okay—insisting to her nurse that she didn't need her on those days and let her have a few days off. Why did my mom do this? Why would she leave me when I needed her in my life? Things were going to look up for us in the future. So, why did she leave me now?
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare out into the dark abyss. Shadows dance along the sliding glass door, but no one enters through hellbent on getting me out of bed. Their voices play in the back of my mind like ghosts whispering in my ear, trying to pry me out of bed. But I’m a frozen mass, unable to motivate myself. It's been like this for days. Me, myself, and I—planning a funeral. Something I never thought I’d have to do. I mean, who the fuck does that? Who plans a funeral for their mother at nineteen? Fuck. Why? Why did this happen?
Why did she leave me?
Of course, my neighbors, Odette, Leon, and Korrine, stopped by and ensured I was okay by feeding me dinner and keeping me company—until I shooed them away. But the boys? It's like the moment I told them to leave me alone in the ER, they listened. Half of me is pissed off and conflicted because I wanted the solitude to process the immeasurable amount of grief pressing down on me. The other half wants them by my side, hugging me and telling me everything will be okay. I’ll be okay, right? Everything will work out, right? But fuck. Why aren’t they here? Where the fuck have they been while I’ve been drowning in grief and unable to find a life raft to pull me ashore? Don’t they understand I didn’t really want them to leave me alone? They were supposed to fight me tooth and nail, hovering above me until I gave in. But they… They left me when I needed them, and I only have myself to blame.
My body desperately craves Callum in my bed, snuggling with me until I fall asleep with peaceful dreams. Or Rad taking me on his dirt bike through the light snow dusting the ground, erasing the depression darkening my mind. I want Kieran to hold me and tell me I'll be okay with his possessive nature and nurturing me until I’m well again. And Asher, I'd let him fuck me out of my grief, bringing me to so many damn orgasms I forget why my world is unraveling.
I sigh, massaging my temples. I never thought loneliness would settle so deep inside me, overshadowing my damn life. With a sigh, I head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. No matter what happens in my life, I must press forward and continue with my goals. And the first step is getting out of bed.
Me
Hey, uh… you guys want to hang out?
I tap my nails on the counter, watching the screen with a sharp eye. I scroll, looking at the two other unanswered messages I'd sent last night, asking if they'd want to come to see me and maybe watch a damn movie. Yet, I was ghosted.
A deep ache forms in my gut, turning it into knots as I over-analyze their shifty ways. Maybe they're playing a gig somewhere, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces, which I'm barely doing. One false move and my reality will shatter, and I’ll be no more than a pile of broken edges on the floor.
Tomorrow my mother's funeral will kick off at noon at the Central Funeral Home. A part of me is ready to continue with this life and move on as quickly as possible. I’ll miss the hell out of my mom, but everything happened so fast. It hasn’t set in yet that she’s truly gone. It’s only been two days, but it feels like she’s at the grocery store and will march through the front door with a grin at any time. Nothing feels real right now.
When I walk past her recliner, my stomach churns at the misery she must have felt lying there and slowly dying all by herself. I stop beside it, running a finger over the worn material, reveling in the feel of the rough fabric against my fingertips. Why didn’t she call for help? Why didn’t she ask someone to take her to the hospital before it was too late? Or had she just given up on life?
So many questions run through my mind with little indication of the answers. The only person who could give me clues has been shoved into a large box destined for the ground tomorrow.
My heart jumps through my chest when a knock sounds at the front door, alerting me to unexpected company. For the most part, everyone has respected the space I requested—almost too much. Ugh. My head swims in confusion. I want people here, but I don’t want people here. I want to wallow in my own misery, yet I want people here to guide me through it. I’m so damn conflicted with what I want; it makes my fingers curl into fists, ready to punch my frustrations away.
“Van?” I blanch when I open my front door, greeted by a sheepish-looking Van holding out a food container.
“I-I heard about your mom, Rivey,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’ve always lived alone with her, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were okay. Also, I wanted to drop off some food.” Licking his lips, he hands it over, and the most delicious smell wafts from the lid, making my stomach grumble loud enough for him to pop a smile. “You always did have a hard time taking care of yourself,” he rumbles, pushing past me and waltzing into my apartment like he’s been here before.
I frown at his chastising words, momentarily stunned at his actions. How dare he march into my home and scold me on how I take care of myself. I mean, sure. I haven’t technically eaten all day. Eating when you’re stuck at home with nowhere to go and numbing pain gnawing at your insides makes it challenging to crave food. It’s the last thing on your mind.
“Um, thanks for the food,” I say, shutting the front door and locking it before facing him. “I appreciate the concern. But, uh—what’re you doing here? You’ve never come here before.” Placing the food on the kitchen counter, I peel open the lid. My mouth waters at the sight of the freshly baked meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a side of corn, and a small biscuit with melted butter rests on top of it all, and my brows furrow. “Did you…?”
Van grins with pride, leaning against the counter next to me, and nods. “Yeah. I made it just for you, Rivey. I thought you would need comfort food.” He shrugs, looking smugly satisfied with himself, and my hackles rise.
I’ve pushed this asshole away for months now, and suddenly, he’s standing in my kitchen like I’m his number one concern. He’s the one who dumped me and pushed me away. Usually, he’s watching from the shadows, stalking my every move. Now, he’s in the home he swore he wouldn’t be caught dead in. This is the same douchecanoe who used to fuck me in his car and then drop me off a block from home because he was too scared to be here.
“Thanks,” I say with apprehension, grabbing a fork and tentatively taking a bite of the delicious, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy. I’m so fucked if this is laced with poison, and Van’s sole purpose is to kidnap me because it’s so damn good, it melts on my tongue—poison be damned, I grab more. “This is delicious. Exactly what I needed,” I mumble through my bite, shoveling more food into my mouth with a hum of satisfaction. Maybe this is one more step in the right direction to getting myself out of this dark, miserable state I’ve put myself in for the last two days.
Van’s eyes track around the apartment, taking every dismal detail in with the scrunch of his judgmental nose. “So, this is where you live?” he asks, coming to stand beside me, knocking his shoulder into mine. “It’s not too scary here,” he says with another unsettling, cocky grin.
“Um, thanks,” I say, pushing the half-eaten food away. “Is this all you came by for?” I ask, gesturing to the food as I put the lid back on and hand it back to him. “I mean, I appreciate it. But I’m kind of busy...” Busy getting the fuck away from this intruding asshole. Where’s Odette when I need her to barge in with a bat and whack this chucklehead all the way back to his car and send him back to Lakeview?
My hairs stand on end when he pushes the Tupperware back into my hands, shaking his head. “Just keep it. You can wash it and give it back to me.” Give it back to him? That means he wants me to see him again or bring it by.
“I don’t have a car, remember? I can’t bring it back. So here, take it back now, and I appreciate it, Van. Seriously, this was so nice of you, but I need to get back to funeral planning,” I mumble, shoving the plastic back into his stomach until he grips it.
“Shit!” he yelps when the lid blows open, spilling the contents of the container onto his white shirt, staining it brown.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, grabbing a paper towel, wiping it off the floor, and handing him one for his shirt.
Shaking his head, he cringes. “It’s okay,” he says with a pained expression; grabbing the back of his shirt, he takes it off and shrugs. “It’s no biggie. Do you have a washer here? Can you put it in there?” Van slowly leans down, pinning my back against the kitchen cabinet like a predator swooping in for its kill.
I jerk back, trying to keep him as far away from me as possible. My skin crawls at the sadistic look crossing his face that he's hiding behind a sympathetic expression. Van has always had his claws in me by following me around and luring me out of my pants. But not this time.
“Maybe you should leave,” I say through a heavy breath, keeping my eyes on the predator in front of me. I swear if I blink, he'll keep getting closer until he swallows me whole.
“Rivey, I can't leave now,” he says, furrowing his brows. “You're hurting,” he murmurs, running a finger down my cheek, and I flinch away. Hurt sears into his face, but he shakes it off, looking at me with pity. “Your mom just died. You can't stay here all by yourself.”
“I can. I'm fine.” I put my hands up, resting them on his chest and attempting to push him away.
I'd be much better if he stopped looking at me like I was a broken doll needing healing. He's not the one I want. I want the boys who hold my heart in their hands, the ones I didn't even mean to fall in love with. That's how it happens, though, right? We fall for those bad boys we swear off, knowing they're tinged in poison, ready to infect us with their wicked ways.
“No. You can't! You need someone, and obviously, those idiots who've been following you around like puppies aren't around. Where are they, Rivey?” he asks, leaning in closer to look me in the eyes. “Where are they now?”
“I… I…” I roll my lips together because I have no idea. It's like they're avoiding me for some reason, but I can't think of why. Did I do something to piss them off? I mean, I told them to leave me be, but I didn't actually think they would for this long.
“I tried to tell you,” Van murmurs, pinching my chin. “They're users, Riv. You know they made it into Battle of the Bands, right?”
“Wait, what?” I ask, sucking in a breath. “No, they would have… they would have told me…”
Wouldn't they have? Wouldn't I have been the first person they told? They promised they'd take me. They promised me a lot of shit. And now they've gotten what they wanted from me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. I'm a fucking adult, and I'll talk to them about it after everything settles down.
My heart skips a beat when Van's brown eyes lock on something behind us, and he growls. Before I have time to analyze what's happening, he leans in, putting his lips on mine with vigor. From the moment our lips touch, my stomach turns, wanting to vomit right into his mouth. Maybe that’d get him to back off and stop touching me like he owns me.
Letting out a shriek into his probing mouth, I jam my fist into his side several times without results. Jamming his tongue onto my mouth, he plasters himself against me, holding me hostage with his unwanted kiss. A sharp pain pierces my lip when he bites down, splitting my flesh. An angry moan bubbles up from my throat when he licks at the spot and returns to forcing his tongue into my mouth. I couldn’t fucking move if I wanted to. Shit. With his hands in my hair and body pressed into mine, I’m at his mercy until he pulls away, panting for air with a flushed look.
“I’ve missed you so damn much,” he says louder than necessary. “You're so damn perfect for me, Riv. I knew you’d finally choose me over them.”
I grunt, trying to squirm out of his grip, but he holds me tighter. A devious grin spreads across his lips, sending chills down my spine. Before me, Van changes into some sort of frightening monster, clinging to me harder than before. A low, menacing chuckle explodes from his vibrating chest, and glee lights up the darkened shadows on his face, making him out to be the true villain he is.
Fear slithers through my veins at what he's capable of. Here I am in my own home, backed into a corner, forced to make out with the man who apparently has a hard time hearing no. Over and over again, I've asked him to fuck off, and repeatedly, he hasn't listened.
“You don’t have to pretend you don’t like it, Rivey. I know you do.” With every word he speaks, his voice gets louder and louder, making my ears ring from the volume of his deep voice.
“I really don't,” I grunt, attempting to push him away, but my hands become trapped between our bodies.
Every attempt to turn my head behind me is blocked by his massive hands gripping my hair with bruising force. Panic creeps up my spine, clawing at me to run the fuck away. From deep within, I find the strength to push Van off me and kick him straight in the dick. His brown eyes widen in terror, and he grunts, holding a hand to his balls, and sinks to his knees with a crazed expression. Betrayal flashes through his eyes when he groans, trying to ride out the discomfort of my kick on the ground.
It seems Van needs another—fuck around and find out—type of lesson because verbalizing my discomfort doesn't seem to register with him. So, without uttering a word, I grunt, pulling my fist back and heaving it straight into his face.
The burning, crunching pain hits my fist first as I shake it out in the air, wishing I could punch him again. Basking in the glory of his blood splattering against my fist, I heave a breath, trying to wash away the unwanted touch of Van as I make my getaway. How could someone so close to me force themselves on me like that? Again? How many times will it take for men to understand the word no?
My heart pounds in my chest at the phantom feel of him pushing against me, and I shake it off, running toward my bedroom. I slam the door shut, locking the damn knob, and turn toward my sliding glass door. Freedom is within my grasp until I stop dead, freezing in place.
My heart shatters when Callum stands outside the sliding glass door, shaking his head in disbelief. Tears run down his face in rapid succession, falling to the floor, agony twists his face when he wipes away the tears, and his jaw tightens as I’ve never seen before.
“You-you kissed him? So-so, it's true?” His face twists more, pain tearing through him and, in turn, splitting me open with his visual anguish.
“What? What's true? Callum,” I say, reaching for him. “Listen…”
“Goodbye, River,” he rasps through thick emotions in a low voice, sending shivers down my spine. The final nail in the coffin has sealed my fate.
“No, wait!” I shout with desperation cracking my voice when he walks as fast as he can down the sidewalk and fucking disappears into the night, not bothering to let me explain anything to him. I could chase him all night, and he'd still turn his back on me.
How could he walk away without letting me explain anything? How could he not see that Van had assaulted me in the kitchen? Pulling out my phone and texting the group, I don't waste a moment.
Me
I know what you think you saw…
Please talk to me.
He KISSED me… He did it against my will! I said no! I punched him for fuck’s sake.
I didn’t want it.
Please… can someone talk to me?
Why’re you all ignoring me?
“River,” Van murmurs through the door, lightly knocking against the wood.
“Go away!” I cry out, trying to hold the emotions clogging my throat. “You fucking psychopath! No means no, asshole!” I hiss, sucking in oxygen.
“Look, I’m sorry. I… I still love you, Rivey. I can’t help it. I won’t leave until I know you’re okay,” he says with concern, tapping on the door again.
“I’ll be okay when you fucking leave!” I shout through shuddering breaths, feeling the warmth of my tears spreading down my cheeks as my heart breaks into a million pieces.
“Fine,” he says softly, “but I’ll be a phone call away when you need me. I’ll always be there for you, Rivey. Whether you like it or not.”
Crawling into my cold bed, I silence my sniffles with my comforter until the sound of my front door slams shut, leaving me with only the tumultuous thoughts wreaking havoc inside my brain. Here I am, once again alone like I always thought I’d be on the night before my mother’s funeral.
I stare at my phone for hours, counting the minutes until the sun rises, and I heave myself out of bed. The same numbness sets in like before. This time, it wraps me in its arms like a hug that I embrace, carrying with me all day.
I expect to see the guys coming to pay their respects throughout the funeral, but they never show—not even a quick pop-in to say goodbye. Unlike them, Van dares to show his face, filled with massive amounts of sympathy. He even drops flowers at my front door with a note apologizing for his actions and asking me to call him. My heart sinks when the funeral wraps up, and I’m left with one last pitying look from a pastor I’ve never met before going home.
That night, I settle into my cold bed by myself. The loneliness presses in on me from all sides, squeezing my chest. Usually, Callum is here by now, kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed with me. Sometimes with Rad in tow. It's been three miserable nights without them. Longing sets in, making me reach for my phone again.
For the thousandth time, I check my messages and sigh. They've all been sent, but the boys have not seen or acknowledged them. What the fuck is going on? They can't seriously think I'd ever kiss Van voluntarily or enjoy it. They've seen how many times I've refused his advancements. There's something more going on than meets the eye, but I don’t have the energy to inspect it.
My eyes refuse to shut as the painful memories of the last few days play through my head. The look Callum gave me when he shook his head full of disappointment and took off will haunt me for the rest of my life.
And they got into the Battle of the Bands and didn't bother to tell the one person who rooted for them since the beginning—me.