Chapter Thirty-Three
Icould count on one hand how many times over the past three years I’d sat on this weathered pier—the one that banks at the edge of the thick forest and inky lake on Rusty’s property—and allowed myself to think back to that day at the clubhouse, the one where I had ruthlessly cut Laiken off at the legs.
The first was exactly two years ago.
The second three-hundred-and-sixty-five days after that.
The third was today.
Three times, that was all.
The other one-thousand-and-ninety-two or so days, I’ve spent quietly numbing myself, hiding behind the shadows of my demons like a little bitch, avoiding the dark corners that yield sharp edges inside of me.
Because when I’m sober, I feel it all, but when I’m high, it’s as if I could fly. The problem with flying though is you're doomed to fall, and falling I’d come to know all too well.
My nose drips, and I use my thumb to wipe away the moisture. And when my fingers begin to shake, I push both sides of my long hair behind my ears, firing up a blunt as a distraction.
Burning down blunts had been a daily occurrence long before I’d lost Jade. Beer and vodka, a bitter taste on my tongue. However, the sheer amount of cocaine and whiskey I’d consumed over the past three years should have done me in.
Yet, I was still here, alive. And what for? I wasn’t too sure. At least, that's what I’d settled on telling myself.
I exhale through my nose, and my lids slide close over my eyes.
I used to think I could fool myself, only, as the days and years dragged on, my loss set deeper into my bones.
Avoiding my past was becoming much harder, and the anniversary of my sister's murder had a cutting way of reminding me of all that I’d been pushing down, all that I’d lost, and who I still had left to lose.
Today, Laiken Campbell is the reason I am fighting against the burning urge to snort an eight-ball, or worse, take a needle to my vein.
Not that I’d touched H, promised I’d kill myself long before I ever did.
But on days like today, I understood why Laiken’s mother went from getting herself out the door with coke, to putting herself to bed with heroin.
I wanted to be comatose too, I really fucking did, but no more than I wanted to make sure history didn’t have a chance to repeat itself.
Harlen had shared with me that Laiken was working tonight, and the trepidation of losing her completely, and not being able to stop it for a second time, kept me from snuffing out my flickering light.
I swallow the knot in my throat and drop my chin, my eyes burning when they latch to my fist, noticing how my knuckles are curled at the edge of the pier.
They are blanched and stark, blushing pink, bringing back a memory I long to forget, and I blink, forcing the phantom stains of my mother’s blood away.
I knew the universe was having a laugh at me, serving up the ghostly picture as a reminder that no matter how good my intentions, Laiken wasn’t and would never be safe with me.
It felt as if I was constantly taking one step forward, only to be pushed back two. That's why most days, I stopped trying.
That truth sets my teeth on edge and sweat creeps down my back, numbing the base of my spine.
Putting a bullet in my mother’s skull had shown me that just because you loved someone, it didn’t mean you couldn’t kill them.
That was why I’d severed Laiken at the vein.
That was why I’d been sure to keep my space.
Because I knew where I was headed, and who I’d become.
I was a killer, not a savior. I knew I needed to let her go. But on a day like today when the threat from someone else was much greater than the risk I posed, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do that.
Call me selfish, call me whatever the fuck you want. Laiken Campbell and I were doomed to the same storm.
I uncurl my fists, drag them down my thighs, and focus my attention on the water.
I watch it rippling with the late afternoon’s subtle breeze, how the day's last sun rays glitter off the surface like a promise that maybe we could rewrite what had happened three years ago.
Pen a different story, an entirely new ending.
Only, that was not how grief worked. You can’t rewrite time, and you can’t hack through the bones of tragedy to piece them back together the way you want them to be. This was real life, and in real life you had two choices: pick yourself up, or tumble off the ledge.
And today, I knew what I was choosing.
When I spear my hands into my hair and bite the elastic from my wrist, looping the strands into a low bun at my nape, I think about the one Laiken will be forced to make today.
It cools the sweat on my neck, and I dry-swallow, almost dry-retch.
The sheer will to see herself through the dark hours of a day filled with only violent memories and unease was no small feat. In fact, it was enormous, but the girl had always been brave.
And her bravery had always had a way of tilting me on the inside.
Who chose to stare down a violent killer instead of running? Who lays themself out like that? My thoughts push my heart to my throat, and I burn through the last of my blunt, throwing it into the lake.
Someone who cared much more about the life of her best friend’s than her own.
I pinch at the tip of my nose when it drips again. I wished I’d thanked her for that, and I wished I’d told her she was a fucking idiot too.
I’d once heard that eyes spoke louder than words and I’d wondered more than once what hers had said that night when she stared back at the faceless man that had mutilated my sister.
I knew it had to have been marginally different from the look that I saw on her face no less than a month ago.
The one that she didn’t want me to see.
The one that I had caught through the diner’s large windows when she thought I hadn’t been looking.
The one that saw her mossy green eyes glittering with fragility.
Laiken was broken and she tried so hard to smooth out her jagged edges, but she’d never been able to hide her vulnerability, not with me. Broken recognized broken. It was why she hadn’t just been Jade’s friend, but mine too.
I pull a breath through my teeth when the pier creaks and Harlen takes a seat next to me, placing a plate of pancakes between us.
“Eat,” he says.
I don’t.
I drop my head.
I hate myself for doing what I had done to her, for saying the things I said in order to push her away. I hate even more that I couldn’t be the person to help her soothe her gaping wounds because my own remained a carnage of despair.
I hate that my father took that from me.
I hate that he made me the man I fear most.
However, today I can see past the possible threat at my own hands.
I wouldn’t feed her hope. I wasn’t that much of a cunt. And I wouldn’t walk back into her life and give a fresh voice to a promise I had made to her all those years ago when we had found her father dangling from a tree.
But I would keep it, even if it meant I had to do so from a distance, where she’d be safest.
“You will survive this. I’ll make sure you do.”
Today, on the third anniversary of my sister’s murder, I will watch her best friend in the shadows until the sun rises. The same way I had watched Nan's house the year before, and the one before that too.
I will make sure that Laiken Campbell makes it home safely tonight.