Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4) (11 page)

Everything. Went. Black.

There’s no way to describe someone’s brains being blown out of their head, splattered on the floor and walls. Time just seemed to stand still, nothing moving, including me. Sour bile burned in the back of my throat, threatening to surface. There was an unfamiliar smell lingering in the air. Whether it was the scent of blood or death, I wasn’t sure, but I would never forget it for as long as I lived.

It was now a part of me, burned into my senses whether I wanted it to be or not.

My eyes floated to a coolness I felt on my arm and I flinched sending the white matter to the floor after realizing what it was. That’s when I noticed my shirt. Red speckles splattered all over my white Superman tee. A sight I would never be able to un-see. A feeling I would never be able to un-feel. Despair washed over me, like when my parents died.

Adding to the pile that would forever haunt me.

The guy was dead, his blood not only on my clothes but also my hands. Another life lost because of me. I didn’t know how many more deaths my soul could handle.

I was doomed.

I would burn in Hell one day.

I might not have been the one who pulled the trigger, but it didn’t change the facts.

Uncle Alejandro did it for me.

That didn’t make it any better.

If anything, it only made it worse.

My eyes jerked in rapid movements, imprinting the gory details of the evening into my mind, my memory, and my soul.

Their nonchalant faces taunting me, like they didn't have a care in the world.

The kickback from the gun as it jerked back my uncle’s arm.

The flash behind it.

The sound of a bullet as it blasted through his skull, lodging into the steel door of the elevator, only a few inches away from my face.

The ringing sound in my ears caused from the blast, left me thinking I was deaf.   

Blood…

Brains…

The God awful stench,
imprinted
.

All of it.

I took off like a bat out of Hell. I didn’t think twice about it. I ran on pure emotion and adrenaline, trying to seek shelter anyway I could. I punched the code into the service elevator as if my life depended on it. The scene wouldn’t stop playing out in front of my eyes, over and over in my mind.

On instant replay, I was powerless to stop it.

My heart pounded out of my chest and the walls felt like they were caving in with each passing second. The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and I was back in the kitchen. I pushed off the wall and ran as hard and as fast as I could for the front door. My legs burned and my body ached. I immediately tried to open the door, forgetting that it was still locked. I turned the knob, but it wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck?!” I screamed out, barely being able to hear myself. “Fuck!” I yelled in frustration, banging on the door.

Panic set in, I couldn't leave.

I never opened the door or left the house by myself. It took me a second to find the alarm that was on the far wall behind me. Stumbling on my own two feet, I almost fell to the floor running to it. My hands shook the entire time I punched the code in from the service elevator.

Nothing.

“Fuck!” I screeched out, punching it in once again.

Nothing.

I shuddered, resisting the urge to throw up. “What the fuck?!” Swallowing hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

I backed away from the alarm and turned my efforts back toward the door.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, over and over again, fists pounding as hard as I could. “PLEASE! PLEASE!”

I begged until my voice was raw, my throat burned, and my resolve broke.

Nothing.

No one.

I looked around the room and realized I was alone. No one had chased after me, no one was behind me, no one followed me.

I ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. I frantically looked around, trying to gather my thoughts. I needed to lock myself away, I quickly shoved my dresser in front of the door, making sure it was secure.

It was a useless precaution.

If my uncle wanted in, he would get in.

I was hyperventilating, held captive in a house that was supposed to be my
home
. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.

I had no one.

I fell to my knees, welcoming the sting from the impact. I sat there and let everything I was holding in go.

I bawled for my parents.

I cried for that man, even though I shouldn’t have.

I sobbed for what I was forced to witness.

Most of all, I wept for the fact that he killed that man for me.

“
Happy fifteenth birthday, Daisy.”
Echoed in my mind, followed by the blast over and over again.

I don't know how much time went by before I crawled my way into the bathroom and forced myself to look in the mirror. The girl looking back at me was still covered with the man’s blood and remains. I stepped back, pulling off every last piece of clothing. Throwing it right in the garbage where it belonged.

I stepped into the scorching hot shower, wanting and needing it to wash away all of my sins. Pressing my forehead against the tile, I just stood there, watching the stranger’s blood paint the shower floor red and then go down the drain. Taking the last bit of innocence I had with it. I stayed in there until the water was frigid cold, which was a nice change to the burning of my skin.

I put on a tank top and some cotton shorts, grabbed the comforter off my bed and curled up on the floor in the furthest corner of the room. Far away from the door.

Waiting for the knock that I sensed was coming.

Never expecting who was on the other side.

“When is he going to wake up?”

Why can’t I open my eyes? Why can’t I feel my body? Why am I so tired…

“Austin, can you hear me? The doctor says we need to talk to you. That you can hear us, and it will help you come out of your coma.”

Coma? I’m in a coma? Where is Alex? Someone tell me where Alex is? Why am I so tired…

“You look good today, baby. My boy’s got some color again. You’re looking like your old self. Come back to us please. We’re all waiting here for you. Open those bright green eyes.”

Where is Alex? Please, someone tell me where Alex is? I need to know if I killed her. I can’t live if she didn’t. Why am I so tired…

“We’ve seen a significant decrease in the swelling on his brain. The medically-induced coma is doing its job, and like I said before, it’s just a waiting game now.”

My brain? What the fuck is wrong with my brain? Why can’t I wake up? Open your eyes, Austin! Open your goddamn eyes! Why am I so tired…

“Austin… you need to wake up now, okay? You can’t leave me. I love you. Please… come back to us.”

Half-Pint.

Alex.

She’s alive.

And now…

Now I can finally sleep.

“His eyes! Did you all see that? Oh my God, his eyes are opening. I think he’s waking up! Honey, honey, can you hear me?” Mom asked.

My eyes fluttered open, trying to shake off the haziness of my mind. Blinking away the darkness and welcoming the light that showed me I was alive.

“Water,” I softly murmured. My lips were so chapped it hurt to move them. My throat so dry I could barely swallow.

“Oh, my God! He’s talking! He’s up! Dylan, go get the doctor! What, baby? Say that again.”

I felt her lean down by my face.

“Water,” I whispered into her ear.

I heard the shuffling of feet, but had to shut my eyes again, the lighting in the room was too bright. All I wanted to do was keep them open, but they burned.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

I did and the second I felt the straw on my lips I sucked, drinking it all down in one, long gulp. I couldn’t fight the drowsiness even though the last thing I wanted to do was sleep. I felt like I had been sleeping for years. I heard voices, questions being asked, and felt hands stroke my face, arms, and chest. Before I could give it anymore thought or fight it off any longer…

I passed the fuck out.

I had no idea how much time had gone by when I woke up next. I felt better but groggy and disoriented as all hell. The doctor, which happened to be Aubrey’s mom, asked me so many damn questions that it made me want to go back to sleep to keep from answering them.

“You’ve suffered severe trauma to your brain, Austin,” her mom reminded.

“No shit?” I sarcastically replied, wanting the hell out of this bed and hospital.

“Austin,” Mom reprimanded.

“You have several broken ribs, burns, and deep cuts on your face and all over your body. Some will heal, but most will scar. You flew out the windshield. They found your body almost seven feet away from the car. God, Austin, you’re lucky to even be alive. If it hadn’t been for the grass and damp dirt from all the storms we’ve been getting lately…there’s no doubt in my mind you would have died.”

My mom bowed her head while my dad took a deep breath.

“We had to operate on your brain to stop the bleeding and put you in a medically-induced coma to reduce the swelling.”

My hand subconsciously went up to the side of my head where I felt the bandage. My hair shaved around it.

“I guess that explains the killer headache,” I said.

“You’ve been in a coma for week. That’s normal. But, Austin, it’s going to take some time for you to heal. We haven’t tested your physical skills yet. There’s a chance that you may need physical therapy. You have several fractures in your back and on your legs. Your motor and mental skills seem to be okay, but that could also change as the days go by. We will be watching you closely for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“Yes. You won’t be medically discharged for a while, so you might as well get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere.”

I took a deep breath, hating that she said that, and immediately touched my ribs.

Fuck that hurt.

She walked over to my bed and handed me what looked like a controller.

“You’re on a morphine drip. At least for the next few days until we’ve figured out where your pain is centered and how high your tolerance is. Then we can switch you over to doses throughout the day. When the pain is too much, you press this button. Okay?”

I nodded, tucking the controller at my side.

“I’m serious, Austin. No playing Mr. Tough Guy. You just had a dosage not too long ago so that’s why you’re feeling somewhat stable. But I promise you once the pain kicks in, it will be unbearable, you—”

“I got it.”

She nodded again, giving me a worried look.

“Do you remember anything? The accident? Do you remember what happened?”

All eyes fell on me. I couldn’t tell if their expressions were hopeful that I would or optimistic that I wouldn’t remember.

Drinking with Charles all day.

Finding Alex on the pier.

Dragging her to his party.

Dancing.

Laughing.

Drinking some more...

Driving drunk.

Racing Jason.

Woods…

Driving faster and faster and faster.

A shortcut.

A tree.

“Half-Pint?” I stated as a question.

She lowered her eyebrows. “Austin, do you remember?”

I peered around the room and then it hit me like a ton of fucking bricks.

Almost. Killing. Alex.

I swallowed hard, trying to control my breathing. My emotions. The machine that I was hooked up to suddenly started making a lot of noise.

“Austin, it’s alright. She’s okay, she’s—”

“Right here,” Alex broke in.  

I blinked a few times. I wondered if it was just my dazed and confused mind playing tricks on me. She was in a wheelchair, Lucas standing behind her. Her hand firmly placed on her lap. She looked so tiny in that chair, her beautiful face covered in nothing but bruises and cuts. The hospital gown did nothing to hide more of the same on her body.

I sucked in air that wasn’t available for the taking. My eyes now wide, my body now shuddering.

It took everything inside me not to breakdown.

“I’m fine,” Alex coaxed as if she knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

What I needed to hear.

“Answer the question, Austin,” Lucas demanded, bringing my attention to him. “Do you remember what you did?”

“Bo, that’s—”

“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying. “I don’t. I don’t remember anything,” I lied.

Not because I was scared of the consequences.

Not because I was afraid of facing the boys, my parents or even the cops.

Not from any of that.

I was fucking terrified that if I told her the truth, that if Alex knew I remembered almost killing her, she would never look at me the way she was looking at me right then and there. And I would lose the only girl that ever mattered to me.

The girl I was supposed to protect.

The girl that I vowed to never hurt.

My best friend.

“Alex, you shouldn’t be up. You need—”

“I’m fine,” she reprimanded with a stern tone. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Austin. Alone. Now, if all of you could please give us a few minutes.”

Aubrey’s mom looked back and forth between us. “You have ten minutes.”

Everyone left, much to Lucas’s disapproval. He lingered at the door before disappearing into the hallway. Alex got up off the wheelchair to shut the door. I opened my mouth to stop her.

“I’m fine,” she interrupted, walking over to me. Sitting on my bed, right next to my waist.

The guilt was eating me alive with each passing minute.

I couldn’t take it anymore and instantly pulled her into my arms, hugging her as tight as I could. I didn’t give a fuck how much it hurt my ribs. I was so grateful that she was alive.

That I didn’t kill her.

She willingly came. Wrapping her arms around my neck. For the first time I was the one to tuck my face into the side of her neck. Needing comfort, reassurance, and love.

Needing her.

Even though I didn’t deserve any of it. Not after what I did.

“I’m so sorry, Half-Pint. I’m so fucking sorry,” I openly bawled not being able to hold back.

“Shhh…” She rubbed my back. “Shhh… Austin. I’m fine. It wasn’t your fault and it doesn’t matter. We’re alive, and I love you no matter what. Shhh…” she soothed, whispering reassuring words, over and over again.

All lies.

Every last one of them.

But I didn’t stop her.

I broke down until I couldn’t anymore.

She told me that she didn’t remember anything either. She told me that everything was going to be okay. She told me that she loved me over and over again. She told me everything I wanted to hear, everything I
needed
to hear. It should have made me feel better.

It didn’t.

After she left, I sat there by myself. I couldn’t get my mind to shut off, I couldn’t get my feelings to stop attacking me, turning on me and making me feel like a bigger piece of shit than I already knew I was.

Regret…

Remorse…

Shame…

Almost. Killing. Alex.

I reached for the morphine drip.

And pressed the button.