Cursed Heart (Cursed #2.5) (2 page)

BOOK: Cursed Heart (Cursed #2.5)
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For the next few minutes, I try to pay attention to the distraction on the other side of the room without looking like I’ve been eavesdropping. That guy is a fucking tool, and I can’t stand the way he’s talking to her.
Have some respect, man.

As I continue to listen, I eat my lunch that was just delivered by the waitress. There’s nothing I can do and no way in hell I’ll drudge up the nerve to butt into the conversation, no matter how much I want to. The man I was a few years ago would jump at the chance to start confrontation, but the man I want to be is holding me back. They’re better off dealing with their issues on their own; who the hell am I to bring myself into the mix? I’ll just get myself into a situation that I know without a doubt won’t turn out well for anyone involved.

Tossing some money onto the table, I move from my seat and walk through the dinner. A pang of guilt hits me hard—it’s as if I know I should help her. But why? I’m nobody to her. I turn to face the back of the diner and my eyes meet hers one last time.

I don’t know who she is, or why she was brought into this diner today, but I have to leave and get her and those eyes out of my head.

Hopping into my car, I pull out of the diner’s parking lot and make my way home. All I really need right about now is a hot shower and my bed. A good sleep is calling me and I need it now more than ever.

As I pull into my apartment complex, I park in my usual spot, grab my bag out of the backseat, and make my way up the stairs to the second floor. Opening the door, my senses are struck with the odor of stale booze.

Glancing around, I see empty bottles of beer, Jack Daniels, and something else that I must have ravaged the label off of at some point. I really need to clean up my shit and make this place look more like a home that belongs to a sensible human being and not that of a crazed loon. This mess has been sitting around since the last time I had a few days off. It reeks in here, and to be honest, it’s fucking disgusting. Thinking back to that night, I don’t know how I managed to make it to bed. I was in a bad place, reminiscing through times of my life that I’d rather forget. I thought the alcohol would numb the painful memories, but all it did was create more of a mess and a huge hole in the wall.

As I walk throughout my apartment, I begin to grab up the trash and take it into the kitchen. I can’t do this anymore; if I want to start fresh and create a new life, I have to do it sober. The numbness of the alcohol may provide a temporary release, but it’s not enough…I need more. Tying up the trash bag, I gaze around my apartment to see that it’s finally clean. I’m exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open another minute—my shower and bed are calling to me. While moving toward the bathroom, I shed myself of my clothes, step into the shower, and allow the steam to absorb in my skin. With closed eyes, I let the hot water and steam relax my tired muscles while images of those eyes fly through my mind.

Who was she?

Why can’t I get her out of my mind?

What will I do if I never see my mysterious woman again?

I can’t seem to let it go; there’s something about her that has struck me hard and I can’t seem to rid myself of her.

Opening my eyes, I reach for the soap and make quick work of finishing my shower. I need sleep…that’s the only explanation for the way my mind is racing. After I’ve slept it off, my mind will be clear and I’ll be able to forget her.

I shut off the water and pull the curtain to the side to reach for a towel. Quickly drying myself off, I move to the bedroom, grab a pair of boxer briefs, and pull them on before falling onto my bed. Punching my pillow into just the right form, I rest my head and close my eyes, allowing myself to fall into a restful sleep. The last thing passing behind my closed lids is an image of my blue-haired goddess.

 

 

Chapter 2

Two Weeks Later

Sitting in my car, I remove my sunglasses and toss them onto the dashboard. As I let out a heavy sigh, I look through the windshield, glaring across the parking lot toward a tall, brick building.  An ache begins to pull at my chest while the steady beat of my heart begins to increase. Running my hands along the length of my jeans, I feel the clamminess of my palms. I hate the way my body is reacting to being here, yet this feeling is nothing new to me; it’s how I know that I need to go inside and do this, I just don’t want to.

I’ve been seeing Dr. Jonestown ever since I started working at the hospital a few weeks ago, although I don’t know what good it’s done. I’m a grown man who’s never been able to let go of my past; talking through it with a shrink honestly does no good. He can ask me as many questions as he wants, but I’ll never let down my guard…I can’t. I’m a stubborn man, this I know, yet I can’t find it in me to change. No matter who’s come in or out of my life, I’ve always felt as though I don’t deserve happiness.

All my life, I’ve had this feeling that I’m not good enough…that is, until I saw
her
.

I’ve only seen her once. It was only for a few short minutes at the diner, but there was something about the way her eyes looked into mine. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, but I’ll die trying to find her. The mysterious woman that I now see in my dreams could possibly be my soul mate. She could be the one woman to see through me, the one that could understand me and make me whole again. For all I know, it could be a lost cause, but I just won’t give up…I need
her
.

Looking down to my watch, I see that it’s almost time for my weekly appointment. I have to go in there…it’s now or never. I can sit in this car all day and rehash the shit storm I’ve made of my life or go in and talk about it. I guess I’ll choose the latter of the two and suck it up for the next hour.

Stepping out of the car, I move toward the building. I start to take in slow breaths as I try to calm my nerves. I know he’s going push me to my limit as he always does, and I’ll fight him…just like I always do.

Maybe today will be the day I finally let go.

Upon entering his office, the receptionist walks me back to his room. My heart is pounding, my palms are still clammy, and a lump is sitting in the pit of my stomach.

As I walk into the still and quiet space, my eyes scan the room. Beige walls are filled with photos, and plaques and diplomas are hung perfectly in alignment with the black furnishings. Moving to the center of the large space, I take a seat on the dark leather chair and look straight at the wall. This place is one that I’ve stared into for the past few weeks, yet every time I come in and sit down, I feel the same way…lost.

Dr. Jonestown is already sitting comfortably in his chair as I look in his direction.

“Good morning, Christian, how are you doing today?”

“Fine,” I reply, leaning forward with my elbows firmly resting on my legs.

“You don’t seem to be fine. Why don’t you tell me how you’ve been since our last visit?”

Taking the stylus pen out of his case, he opens the tablet and begins to touch the screen.

My eyes wander behind him, to his desk, where a large photo frame sits. It’s a picture of his family. A sense of uneasiness stirs in the pit of my stomach.

When will this ever go away?

Feeling frustrated, I move to stand…just as I always do.

“Christian, sit, talk to me. You know none of this will ever get easier unless you let it all out. There are demons within you that you have to fight. It’s time to break free once and for all.”

I turn to face him, anger wanting to rage out of me. Letting out a deep breath of air, I fall back down to the chair and close my eyes.

“Let it go, Christian, I’m here to help you. The only way I can is if you let me in.”

Opening my eyes, I watch as he sets the tablet down on the coffee table and leans forward, giving all of his attention to me.

“There’s not too much to tell you.” I reply, once again looking at the photo behind him.

“I’ve seen this same look in your eyes for the past few sessions, Christian. I know what you want—what you need—but I can’t give it to you. You’re the only one that can change, isn’t that what you want?”

“Who says I need or want anything? I’m just fine dealing with what’s been dealt to me.”

“You say that now, yet you still come in here every week with the same look of pain across your face. There has to be something you want that perhaps I can help you find.”

“I come here every week because I have to, not because I want to.”

“No one has forced you to walk through those doors. I can see it; it’s there, Christian, you just have to let it all out. I’m not asking you to spill it all in one session, but we’ve been at this long enough. It’s time to share what you’ve been holding back all this time. Otherwise, I don’t know that I’ll be able to help you.”

Feeling deflated, I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the strands out of frustration. My eyes move to meet his, an intense stare glaring back at me. As much as I need to forget, want to hold it all in, maybe it’s time to slowly ease out of the hole I’ve been hiding in all this time.

“I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know where to start.”

“Being here, in this room, is a great start. Now you need to talk, tell me why you feel the way you do.”

Sitting up straight, I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I need to do this…I
will
overcome the demons strangling the life out of me. I
want
to be a better person—if not for me, then for
her
.

“I’ve been on my own my entire life. All I’ve ever wanted was to find my place in this world.”

“And what place is that, Christian?”

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve been tossed around—no one has ever wanted me.”

Sadness begins to overwhelm me as I think back to my childhood. Resting myself against the back of the chair, I gaze up to the ceiling. My thoughts are a tangled web and I’m not sure how to clear my head.

“Christian…where did you go just now?”

Shifting my head to face him, I focus on why I’m here. He’s right; he’s here to listen and to help me. As much as I don’t want to talk about it, I really have no other choice.

“I’m a man on a mission; I want to better the world and help heal those that have dealt with the pain I wish to forget.  I was tossed around in foster homes all of my life, never able to find that one person that truly wanted me…needed me…until her.”

“Now you’re talking. When will you tell me more about this mysterious woman?”

“I’m not ready,” I respond, looking at him with a glare.

“Okay, fair enough, let’s take a step back. You mentioned being in foster homes; tell me more about that time of your life.”

Shaking my head, I squeeze my eyes tightly closed.

“I can picture every home that I was sent to, each foster parent that pretended to want me with them.  It was always an act, a show where they pretended that I was the greatest gift they had ever received…only it was all fake.”

“Why do you feel as though it was all an act?” he asks in a compassionate tone.

“Because as soon as I’d move into the home, things changed—I wasn’t part of the family like the other children. No matter how hard I’d try to fit in, I was pushed away.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Nonexistent, like I didn’t matter to them.”

“That had to be very difficult to cope with.”

“It was unbearable. I was used, abused, and after time, they sent me to another family. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I’d never be a part of a family. I was dealt a raw deal and had to live with it until I was old enough to be on my own. The more I was pushed around from house to house, the worse my behaviors became. I had no other choice but to stand on my own, and anyone that got in my way was knocked down.”

“You became a bully to protect yourself?”

Opening my eyes, I realize what he’s just said. I became a monster to hide, to heal, and to make sure no one would ever hurt me again.

“Yes, in a way I suppose you could say that. The further I pushed people away, the better off I felt. It wasn’t ‘til my eighteenth birthday that I woke up and wanted to find my own way out. I finally was able to break free on my own and there wasn’t
anyone
I’d let stand in my way.”

The sound of the clock pulls my attention to the side of the room.
Shit, that hour flew by and I was finally starting to feel like I could open up.

“You’ve made amazing progress today, Christian. You should feel proud.”

Nodding my head, I lean forward, staring down toward my shoes.

“I want you to start writing in a journal. Be sure to notate your emotions of anger, happiness, sadness, and frustration. Next time you come in, we’ll review it. I want to see how you’re beginning to progress now that you’ve been able to open up. You did great today; it’s a good start.”

Lifting my head, I look into his yes. His tone is sincere as well as the expression on his face.

“Thanks, doc, will do.”

BOOK: Cursed Heart (Cursed #2.5)
11.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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