Chapter Eight
The elevator lets out a beep as the doors gradually slide open, pulling me back from my deep thoughts.
I step out onto the eighth floor of the apartment complex before glancing left and right, making sure no one is around.
Continuing to the end of the hallway, I reach the last door on the left.
After a quick look over my shoulder, I slip inside and head up the stairs.
Three flights later, I enter the four-digit code and listen for the satisfying click that signals the door is unlocked.
I finally push open the door that leads to the roof.
The air is pleasantly warm up here. I take off my bike helmet and hoodie, setting them down by the four-foot railing.
The night sky is a deep blue, dotted with stars hanging above.
After pausing to gaze upward and inhale deeply, I shift my attention to our small town below.
Most of it is cloaked in darkness, with only a handful of streetlights casting a soft glow.
I often venture up here after hours to gather my thoughts.
This apartment complex, the tallest building in town, provides a badass view of the distant mountains at sunset.
I still remember when this place was first built; a time that coincided with some of my darkest days.
It was just a couple of months after I moved into my uncle’s house.
I was at the local grocery store to meet a guy about buying my crotch rocket.
We had been in touch for about a week, and I finally decided I wanted to take the plunge.
I just needed to take it for a spin around town before fully committing to the purchase.
As I rode past the complex that I had seen countless times before, I looked up at the roof while sitting at a stop sign.
Suddenly, a random thought entered my mind: I wonder what the mountains would look like from up there.
So now here I am, so many years later, still coming here.
I pull out a cigarette and place it between my lips, reach for my Zippo, flick it on, and inhale deeply, focusing on the crackling of the tobacco.
I blow out the smoke, watching it swirl and expand in the night air as my thoughts drift off again.
I think about the first night I came here and made it on this very roof.
At first, it felt so exhilarating to be up so high, away from everyone and everything.
It was like I could clear my head of all the negative thoughts and emotions that plagued me.
But as soon as I let my walls down, the voices rushed in like a haunting storm.
My heart raced wildly in my chest, each beat uneven and frantic.
I held onto it tightly, wishing I could somehow tear open my chest and silence the pounding that persisted.
Gradually, I edged closer, gripping the railing with white knuckles as I gazed down at the sidewalk meeting the road below.
I imagined my body sprawled out—bloody and contorted—while people rushed by, their screams echoing in the air.
The thought of simply letting go and finally feeling free flashed through my mind, tempting me in a fleeting moment before I took a step closer to the brink.
It wasn’t until I found myself climbing over the railing that I realized just how deep into these thoughts I’d descended.
My shoes hung slightly off the five-inch ledge while my hands were behind my back, gripping the railing.
I slowly leaned, pulling some of my weight forward against the railing.
The cold breeze bristled against my hair, causing me to close my eyes.
The voices in my head whispered sweet venom in my ears.
Let go…let go. I allowed my fingers to slip slowly as I prepared to end everything—all the pain, the grief, the constant fire that burned me internally.
I was ready to claim death as my own. Because all this time, I had been walking this Earth only existing.
Numb, while feeling everything at the same time.
Nothing made sense, while everything did. I wanted to die.
I pulled harder, feeling my shoulders stretch as they silently protested, my arms shaking behind me.
Just let go, Ezra, I kept repeating in my mind.
A distressed gasp caught in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back tears that threatened to spill as I bit down on my bottom lip.
My grip was slipping and sweat began to pool in my palms, making it harder to hold on.
I took a deep breath, preparing to finally let go.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in my mind so clearly that I whipped my head around, convinced someone was on the roof with me.
But then it hit me—it was my mom. I wasn’t sure if it was just my subconscious or if I was losing my grip on reality.
Yet hearing her say my name struck a chord deep in my chest. What am I doing?
What about Beck and Blake? If I go through with this, it means my mom and Jesse would have died for nothing.
More importantly, I don’t deserve an easy way out.
I need to live and face the consequences of my mistakes.
I won’t live for myself; I’ll live for my mom and the twins, all while carrying the weight of all the pain I’ve caused.
I took one last look down, and a wave of queasiness swept over me.
The sheer drop below made me dizzy, but I was thankful it was night; no one could see me on the verge of ending it all.
Just as I prepared to pull myself back, the railing I clung to suddenly creaked loudly.
My attention snapped to the side as I noticed the metal bending under my weight.
Before I could react, it let out a piercing screech and lurched forward, pushing me along with it.
In an instant, my right hand slipped from the railing, leaving me dangling off the edge of the roof.
I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain in my left shoulder blade, a reminder of the strain from carrying my weight all at once.
I fought to keep my composure and resisted the urge to look down.
Steadying myself, I used my right hand to grip the ledge and turned to confront the roof.
Quickly scanning the railing, I felt a surge of relief to find it was merely a section that had bowed outward.
Exhaling slowly, I mentally prepared myself.
I reached as far as I could with my right arm, grasping the bottom of the railing.
With careful movements, I let go with my left hand and repositioned my grip, securing it further along where the railing remained intact.
My whole body was shaking from hanging on for so long.
I knew I couldn’t hold much longer, and it would take every ounce of strength I had left to pull myself up to safety.
Taking a few deep breaths, I braced myself as best as I could.
In one swift motion, I gritted my teeth and used my upper body to haul myself up.
Once I made it over the railing, I collapsed onto my back, panting like there was no tomorrow.
I clinched my left shoulder hard, sure that I tore my rotator cuff.
A tingling sensation raced up my legs and arms as I lay there, staring up at the stars in disgust. For hours, I remained on the roof, lost in thought.
What a foolish fucking thing I had done—almost done.
A car horn blares somewhere below, pulling me from my harsh memory.
I glance at my cigarette; a long ash clings to the end, ready to fall any moment.
I let out an aggravated sigh, taking a long hit before flicking off the cherry and smothering it with my shoe.
I flick my eyes over to where the railing still bows forward.
Before I left that night, I did my best to fix it.
It’s not leaning as severely as it was, but it will need to be replaced to be secure again.
At this point, I doubt it’ll ever be repaired—which leaves it as another reminder of the fuck up I am.
I instinctively grab my left shoulder, it had never fully healed from that night.
I take one last look over the town before grabbing my hoodie and pulling it on.
With a quick motion, I run my fingers through my hair to sweep it back from my face.
I pick up my bike helmet and slide it over my head, adjusting it.
I always make sure to wear it when I come here.
The last thing I want is to draw unwanted attention or bump into someone I know, especially a customer from the bar.
Once I’m back at the elevator, I stand by patiently, hands tucked in my hoodie pockets to ensure no one catches a glimpse of my right hand, its scars and tattoos that would give away too much.
I really don’t want to run into someone I’d rather avoid.
Finally, the elevator dings open, and I step inside.
I watch the floor numbers descend, stopping at the third level.
I shuffle to the far left, leaning against the wall and railing to make room for the oncomer.
As the doors slide open, an older man walks in, and I catch the sound of a woman’s laughter mingling with a deep voice from the hall.
As the older man steps into the elevator, the laughter from the woman down the hall transforms. I look down the right side of the hall to see her struggling to enter what I assume is her room.
A guy stands right behind her, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around just as she shouts for him to stop.
Now that she’s facing him, my eyes widen in shock.
Holy fuck, that’s…Before I can finish my thought, I push past the older man in the elevator and rush down the hall.
In moments, I grab Douchebag from behind and slam him against the wall next to the door, pinning him there with my elbow.
I quickly glance over at her to make sure she’s okay.
“What the hell, dude?!” he yells, trying to shove my elbow away from his throat.
Frustrated, I pull my elbow back and deliver a sharp jab to his nose before wrapping my hand around his neck.
I snarl at him while he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. What a pussy.
I could easily cut off his air supply without a second thought, but I shake off the idea and refocus on her.
A sudden gasp escapes her lips, and her hands come together to cover her delicate jaw.
Our eyes meet through my helmet; her expression reveals a mix of fear and…
perhaps a flicker of curiosity. The sight of her diminished a fraction of the anger surging within me.
She is just as beautiful as I remembered her.
I reach my right hand out to her, but quickly refrain.
I exhale softly through my nose. “Did he hurt you?”
She bites her bottom lip, holding it between her top teeth as she shakes her head slowly. The jerk lets out a scoff in response to my question. “Dude, we were just messing around!”
I roll my eyes, keeping my gaze fixed on her. Frustrated, I let out a groan. “Do you ever just shut the fuck up?” I notice her eyes shift to my hand again. She studies it for a moment, and suddenly, I can see a realization dawn in her expression. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“Ezra?”
Frustration bubbles up inside me as my hand betrays my identity.
Raina clearly recognizes me. I clench my hand and release vomit-mouth Scottie, who glances between Raina and me in confusion.
“Wait, who the hell is…Ez—oh…wait…the bartender?!” he exclaims, suddenly aware.
Touching his nose, he winces and pulls his hand back to reveal blood. “You busted my nose, dude!”
I merely shrug, lifting my elbow to check for a stain. “You’ve got blood on my favorite hoodie,” I reply, shaking my head. I then reach over, grab his shirt, and wipe the sleeve of my hoodie. “You’re lucky it’s black,” I add with a casual tone. He just stares at me in disbelief.
Raina hasn’t taken her eyes off me, and now her expression is impossible to read. I can’t tell if she’s pissed at me or pleased to see me. She tilts her head and clicks her tongue before asking, “What are you doing here?”
Fuck, that part. I quickly respond, “Just visiting a friend. I was about to leave—until I thought I was witnessing a woman being assaulted.” I glare at Scottie behind my helmet, hoping he can still feel it.
“Anyway, I’ll let you two carry on with whatever this is.
” I give Raina one last look before turning to head back to the elevator.
As the doors slide open, I peek back at her, deliberately ignoring Scottie and his bloodied nose.
“Oh, and Raina, try keeping your boy toy under control.” She bites down on her bottom lip, almost like she’s holding back a smile.
Scottie scoffs, but says nothing. He’s smarter than I thought.
Once the doors close in the elevator, I rest against the wall.
What are the odds of this? She lives here, and for how long?
I recall glancing at her ID at the bar. I would have noticed if her address was here.
Now I’ve really made a lasting first impression by assaulting her punk boyfriend.
Great. Just when I thought our paths would never cross again.
Here she is, living in the very place I visit from time to time.
Did I make a mental note of her room number?
Yes, yes, I fucking did. So what? Because I already know, no matter how hard I try to stay away from this girl, that I will find myself here again or will run into her somewhere in town.
It’s inevitable. And there’s this nagging sense that Raina Adele Hope is the one person who will make me lose the grip on what I’ve so desperately held onto for years—my control.