Alive (7 page)

“Charming, isn’t he?”

“Charming would not be the word I would use to describe Bryan. Maybe pig head, dick, asshole, womanizer, man whore, the list is endless,” I teasingly say.

“He really isn’t so bad once you peel back all the layers and break down some of those walls he has built around him. He didn’t have an easy upbringing. He was passed around from foster care to foster care, never really having a place to call home. His dad was a royal asshole and his mom left when he was three. We met our freshman year, and my mom kind of took him under her wing and gave him that motherly love he was missing. He will never let a girl get close enough to him because he’s scared he will never be good enough for anyone. He’s scared he will turn out like his old man. But you know what, Abigail? He’s the most loyal friend I have ever had. He would give me the shirt off his back if I needed it. He will find her one day, though. She will walk into his life and he won’t know what hit him. When he sees her he will find himself wanting to be a better man because of her. When he finds her, he will find himself not caring about any other girl, because the one he has standing in front of him will be so perfect, and so beautiful, that nothing else will matter.”

Wow. He is looking at me with such sincerity and I find myself wondering if he was talking about Bryan, or himself. My head is swimming with emotions, and I need a minute to sort my thoughts.

“Let me take you home.”

I nod my head and Adam grabs my hand and leads me towards his bike.

Well, here goes nothing. He is going to see that I live above a bar. Hopefully he doesn’t judge me for it, and I hope to god my mother is upstairs passed out. But then again god has never been on my side, so who knows what will await us once when we arrive.

Chapter 7

The drive to my house seems like it takes hours. In reality it’s only about a 15 minute drive. He drives more carefully this time, but I notice he still takes the corners way too fast. He’s such an ass. I try not to squeeze him, but I just can’t help it when he takes the turns as fast as he does. I have so much anxiety building up inside me that it’s hard to contain it all. I feel like I need to go for a run to clear my head and relieve some of my stress. I think I’ll do that once he leaves. I have never taken anyone to my house. No one except Jessie has ever seen where I live.

We round the corner and I tap his shoulder and point to my left signaling that we are here. He pulls up in front of the bar and turns off his bike. The bar is still pretty crowded, and a band is still performing inside. I can hear the music from outside and the music is familiar. This particular band plays a few times a month and I actually enjoy their music. The drummer is an old timer and I enjoy walking down to the bar and hearing his crazy stories. I doubt any of them are true, but they are exciting nonetheless. He tells them with such conviction that I can’t help but get lost in them.

  I climb off the bike and take my helmet off and place it carefully on the back. He is sitting on his bike still and staring at the bar. Oh god, here we go. I want to know what he is thinking. When he turns to look at me his expression is sad, and guarded. Sadness was the last look I expected to see on his face, but the look he is giving me is a look I know all too well. I want to rush over to him and hug him and take away the sadness. Why does he look so sad?

“This is where you live? How long have you lived here?” He is still staring at me with sadness in his eyes, but there is a hint of shock there too.

“Yes, I live here, and I have lived at this bar my entire life. My mom and dad own this bar.” I say quietly and toss my hands up in the air. “This is why people don’t get to take me home; I don’t like people knowing anything about my personal life.”

“I, I can’t just drop you off and leave you, Peaches. I know I promised, but I can’t do it. I need to make sure you get inside OK. Please let me make sure you get inside all right. Or we can go back to my house and you can stay there with me. We have a guest room, and you would have your own bathroom. My mom works nights at the hospital so she won’t be home, but I know she wouldn’t mind you staying with us.”

He is talking very fast and pleading with me. Is he serious? I can’t go stay with him at his house. But a very small voice in the back of my head is screaming at me,
why not
! My feelings for Adam are not normal. Normal people don’t feel such a strong connection towards someone after knowing them only a week

“Adam, I have been living here every day since I was born. Most everyone who comes to this bar is a regular. I have about three very large, very scary men who make sure I get upstairs to my room OK, and nobody has ever bothered me.” The last part is a lie, and
I try to sound convincing as I say it. 

“If you won’t go home with me, can I at least walk you upstairs, and make sure you get inside OK? Please Abigail?”

“Adam, I said no. I don’t want you seeing anything that goes on up there, and you are not changing my mind. Now please go home, and I will talk to you later.” I try giving him my no nonsense attitude. I start to panic. This is starting to get too serious too fast. I need to shut it down. My shutters start to come down and I realize I can’t let this go on any further. I can’t risk him walking up and seeing my mother, or worse, her hitting on him. She has embarrassed me more times than I’d like to remember. But Adam is good, and sweet, and kind. I don’t want him anywhere near the mess that I call my life.

He stares at me a long time and then shakes his head like he understands. “Will you please call me once you get inside safely? Please.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say coldly.              

Before I even realize what’s happening, Tiny walks up to us. He is anything but tiny; he’s the biggest guy I have ever seen. Tattoos cover both of his arms, his neck, and he has 3 teardrops by his eye. I’m not sure what that means, but I googled it once and what I read was scary. The words You're Next are tattooed across his knuckles. He’s very intimidating if you don’t know him, but to me he’s a big teddy bear. Tiny has been around ever since I was a baby.

“Is there a problem here, pumpkin? This asshole giving you any trouble?” he says in his deep, raspy voice.

I walk up and give him a small hug. “No Tiny, Adam was just dropping me off after the concerts tonight. His band was playing so I went and watched.” He is downright glaring at Adam, and sizing him up. I have never been on a date before, or brought any boy to the bar. I can tell this is hard for Tiny. He never had any children and I’m the closest thing to a daughter that he has. He reluctantly starts to step back and walk towards the bar.

“OK, you just shout at me if you need anything, I’ll be right over by the door.”

“I’m actually ready to go inside now, so if you give me a minute, I’ll walk inside with you.” Tiny gives me a small head nod, and then glares at Adam before walking away.  Adam pales for the third time tonight. Poor guy is receiving looks left and right tonight. I don’t blame him for being scared. The guy is a fucking beast.

“Jesus, that’s three big scary men who have warned me not to mess with you. What are you, a part of the mafia or something?” he asks jokingly, but I think he’s seriously asking.

I roll my eyes. “No, I am not part of the mafia. I guess these guys have known me since I was a baby and are looking out for me. So see, I will have an escort taking me inside. I will be fine, I promise. Now drive home safely, and I’ll talk to you later.”

I start to walk away, and head inside.

He glances up at the bar one more time and I can tell he’s having an internal battle with himself. “Abigail, the feelings I have for you scare the shit out of me. I know we have only known each other a week, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you. Please get inside safe, and I’ll be calling you once I get home to make sure you’re OK.”

“Drive safe on that death trap, Adam.” I give him a small smile and head towards the bar. Once I get inside I notice that it’s still a full house. The tables are packed with people, and the dance floor is full. Most everyone here is a regular, and me walking through the bar raises no eyebrows. I do a quick scan to see if I can spot my mom, but she isn’t anywhere down here. I make my way towards Tiny, and let him know that I’m heading upstairs and going to bed.

“I left you some dinner on the kitchen table, all you need to do it heat it up. And Abigail, she isn’t doing too well tonight. She was high on something and she brought some asshole upstairs, he left about 30 minutes ago, so it’s safe for you to go on up. He looked sketchy, but I haven’t been able to leave to go check on her yet.” He gives me a sympathetic smile. Great, after a wonderful night with Adam, I get to go take care of my mother. I so badly wish every day that my life was different. I wish I lived in a normal house, with a normal mother, and did normal teenage things. I would love more than anything to come home from my date and tell my mom all about it. But instead I get to go clean up the mess that awaits me.

“Thanks for the heads up, Tiny, and thanks for dinner.” I shake my head and start walking upstairs, scared to find out what’s awaits me behind the door.

I hold my breath, and slowly open the door. When I enter the house, I notice 3 empty vodka bottles on the coffee table, used needles, and empty condom wrappers. I start to panic a little bit, because the empty vodka bottles were not there last night, and that’s a lot of alcohol for one person to consume. Not to mention, the heroin I know she shot up with. I stand staring at the coffee table for seconds, minutes, hours, I’m not really sure, too scared to go and find my mother. I’m scared to know what state she’s in. I’m scared that when I find her she won’t be alive. My worst fear is that I will find her dead somewhere in the house, overdosed on her drug of choice for night. I hate that she mixes shit. This is my fear every night when I come home. My breathing starts to quicken and tears threaten to spill out over my eyes. Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive. That’s what I keep repeating over and over again in my head. Despite all that my mother and I have been through, I love her. There were times I truly hated her and wished she would just go away, but deep down I’ve always wanted her to get better.  I want more than anything for her to pull herself together and know that she’s worth more than she thinks she is. That there are people who love her and want her here. I want her to destroy what destroys her. I want her to pick up the scattered pieces of her life, and slowly start to put them back together again. But what I want simply doesn’t matter.

I take a deep breath and go on my search for my mom. I come to her bedroom door and count to ten before I enter. What I see waiting for me was the last thing I expected to see. There is blood on the bed, and the dresser is turned over. The mirror above the dresser is broken and pieces of glass are scattered all over the floor. Where is my mom? Why is there blood on the bed? I hear a noise in the bathroom and I will myself to walk towards the noise. When I open the bathroom door my mother is lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, and she’s whimpering. Oh. My. God. What happened to her?

“Mom! Mom, what happened!” I bend down and pull her into my arms. When her face rolls over into my lap, bile rises to my throat. She has been beaten. Her lip is busted, the side of her jaw is swollen and looks two times larger than it should. Both of her eyes are swollen shut, and there is just so much blood. Why is there so much blood? I’m frantically checking her body for the source of the bleeding. I lift up her shirt and realize she has been stabbed multiple times in her back. Hot tears are now streaming down my face, and I am having a hard time controlling my breathing. I can feel a panic attack coming on, and I have to remind myself to keep breathing.

I very carefully lay my mother down on the floor and I sprint as fast as I can downstairs to the bar to find Tiny. When he sees me his face pales, and he starts running towards me.

“Tiny! Call 911. NOW!” I am crying and screaming at him.

“Abigail, are you OK?” He pulls me into his arms, and is checking me over to make sure I’m OK. I’m sure I look terrifying with all this blood on me and I’m screaming, but I just don’t care. I push out of his arms and start shouting at him to call for help, to do something, to please help my mom.

“My mom, she’s upstairs, she’s bleeding, beaten, so much blood, help her.”

I can barely string a sentence together, but Tiny finally gets the hint and calls 911. I realize now that I need to get outside and get some air before I pass out. I can barely breathe, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me. I push away from Tiny and start running towards the door. My vision is getting blurry and it’s getting harder for me to breathe. I’m almost outside; if I can just make it outside I will be fine. I burst through the door and am immediately greeted with the cool, fresh air. I try to take a deep breath in, but my lungs are not working. I put my hands on my knees and keep repeating over and over in my head, deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth.  Before I know what’s happening I am being wrapped in a pair of arms.

“Deep breaths, Abigail, keep breathing. That’s right, deep breaths. You can do it, keep breathing, that’s right my sweet girl.” It’s his voice. His beautiful, calm, soothing voice. Adam. My breathing starts to slow, and I melt into his arms. We sink to the ground together, and I let out a sob that I didn’t know was being built up inside me. He pulls me into his lap, and wraps his arms protectively around me. He is stroking my hair and raining kisses down on top of my head. I want to know why he’s here, and why he came back. But I’m too thankful for his presence to even care right now.