32. Emmett
Emmett
My world completely collapsed some weeks ago.
Just when I thought everything was back in order, that I could live, it turns out I was actually losing all along.
Ever since she left, I’ve been a hollow shell. A walking, seldomly talking ghost, haunting everyone and myself.
It felt like I was missing some very crucial piece that made me function. A few screws that would join the machine together and make it work, but no matter what, the screws were nowhere to be found.
“I want to see her,” I tell the two jerks in front of me. “Where is my wife?”
“You’re not going anywhere near her,” Noah says with disgust. “Who knew you’d become the next alcoholic in this little circle of sunshine?”
“I was never one,” King says with a shrug.
“Don’t compare where you can’t compete! Big Em has never touched a drop all his life and when he finally does, he decides to win medals for it!”
I shake my head, beyond annoyed.
“Get out of my way. I want to see her.”
“You reek!”
Do I? I can’t even smell it.
“You’ve been arrested for loitering around the facility in the dead of night for the past seven days! One more and you’ll be charged for real,” Noah warns,
“I have to see her.”
“Not today, Big Em,” King states, grabbing my arm and dragging me out of the hospital easily enough since I’ve been losing my own body function and motor skills.
“Angel…”
They drag me away.
King tosses me into a shower, opens the faucet, and leaves me in there for a long time until I somewhat sober up.
I shouldn’t drink alcohol or anything caffeinated because of my heart function, but without my wife, is there a heart? Is there a life? Does anything even matter?
When I get out of the bathroom, feeling somewhat fresh and dead all at the same fucking time, I accept the clothes King silently hands me and change.
“You’re not going to shave off that Chia Pet?” he says, gesturing at my chin.
I ignore him.
“Give me your keys. I don’t have time to go to my house.”
“You’re not driving.”
“Fine, then you drive me.”
“I’m incapable of driving.”
I glare at him, deciding to take an Uber instead. King snatches my phone clean out of my hands.
“You need to calm down,” he says simply. “Your eyes are screaming bloody murder. That won’t go over well, especially with that black eye.”
Ah, yes. Curtesy of my brother-in-law who found me and decided to use me as a punching bag. I welcomed it with open arms.
“Give me my phone back. I need to see her for myself.”
“I told you! She’s doing well! She started speaking today.”
“You don’t understand! Angel is much more complicated than that…”
She can attempt to silently kill herself with no one the wiser. If I don’t get to her like before, if anything happens to her…
“Listen man, just give her a moment to?—”
“If you’re not going to help me, then stay the fuck out of my way or I swear Knight will become fatherless!”
I stalk out the room, leaving King shaking his head. At least he knows better than to think my words are a bluff.
When I get to the hospital, I’m once again refused entry into the wing my wife is being kept and then I run into trouble.
“You have some nerve!”
Kimberly charges at me, her big belly jutting out at the world. I freeze on the spot.
“With all your supposed intellect, what part of fuck off don’t you get?” she yells. “You did this to her and now you’re back for, what? Another round?”
“It’s none of your business, Kimberly,” I fume, unable to control myself. “I want to see her. Where is she?”
“For what? You obviously like toying with her like you’ve been doing since I’ve known you!”
“You don’t know anything!”
“I know that you’re a coward!”
She could’ve slapped me in the face and said God bless you, but I wouldn’t be as shocked.
“You are a coward at everything! At love! At life! At being a human being! You’re a coward Emmett Easton and you made my best friend suffer for it! If you wanted nothing to do with her, then you should’ve stayed away from her!”
I tried. God, I tried, but I couldn’t…
“Where is she?” I mutter, my chest aching like crazy.
“None of your business! You better leave. She doesn’t want to see you!”
Noah stands behind his fiancée, not saying a word, but I can see the message in his eyes, so I leave and go sit in my car before coming back a few hours later.
I’m denied information, so I go to the bar.
Then come back the next day, and the next.
I need to see my wife… but I run into her grandmother instead.
“What a sorry excuse of a human being you look,” Marie says coldly. “But then again, you’ve done your best all your life to appear detached. Maybe this is the real you?”
I’m drunk, in pain, my heart is likely in regression, but all I can do in this moment is drop to my knees and apologize.
“I just… I need to talk to her, please,” I beg. “I won’t take much of her time at all. I just need to see her.”
Marie stares at me, pity flashing in her eyes.
“You know, Emmett.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You’ve tried so hard to be detached from any human emotions and feelings after your mother.
I knew it wasn’t going to end well,” she says gently.
“I also knew that my granddaughter was too stubborn, internalizing her pain each time, choosing to hurt herself than admit when she’s suffering. Who knew you would both be like this?”
I groan, disliking what she’s saying.
“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but listen boy, you either tell the truth here and now or you leave her alone for good this time. If I ever get a whiff of you again, I will sacrifice my own salvation to deal with you.”
Marie doesn’t shout or scream or seethe. She calmly states her case, gives me a sardonic smile, then gets up and leaves, not sparing me another glance.
That night, I go back to my house in Westbrook Blues and shower, shave, and sober up.
And to do that, I go down to the sparring ring, the same one I once fought Vaughn and then got punished for not ending him.
Silently, I see another figure walk into the gym, wearing gloves, ready to fight.
George appears before me and waits.
It doesn’t take long for me to charge at him and beat the crap out of him while getting beat up as well.
Each hit is fair.
It’s painful.
It’s not enough.
We go at it until we collapse on the canvas, breathing hard and deep.
“This is your fault,” I seethe, laboring to breathe.
“You should’ve told her,” George counters. “We made mistakes back then, but you should’ve told her how in love you’ve always been with her. Don’t miss the opportunity now.”
Two days later, after I’ve completely sobered up and look as decent as possible, I find out where they are keeping my wife.
But see, trouble always seems to happen in ways that can’t be predicted or preconceived.
It just happens.
To get in her room, I have no choice but to knock out the beefy asshats by the door. Nothing was going to keep me from seeing her.
But they keep coming and I’m at my weakest right now.
I keep fighting, but something out of a horror movie happens suddenly.
Some jerk appears out of nowhere pointing a gun at me. He pulls the trigger, but I’m not the one who gets shot.
As if in sickening slow motion, I turn around and see my wife looking at me in horror, and then she looks down at her chest and she goes down.
“Ivy!”
Survival instincts would be to go for the gunmen, but I dive for my wife.
In the back of my mind, I hear more gunshots, but I feel none of it as I cradle my wife in my arms, calling for help, for someone, anyone, but blood seeps onto me and the floor faster than any aid or saving grace.
“Ivy! Baby, stay awake!” I tell her, my vision blurring. I feel lightheaded. “Don’t you dare close your eyes! Stay with me!”
I call for help again, but the world comes crashing down on me instead as I surrender to the darkness.