Dear Tabitha (2 page)

Past

Age 14

I
CAN’T
stop shivering. I’m cold and scared. Terrified. Blood covers my clothes from the gushing wound in my side.

I can’t die here.

Not like this. I’m afraid to die.

No one will know where to find me. I’m in my safe place, and even my sister doesn’t know that I always come here to hide. I’ve been coming here since I was three years old. After that first time…

I’ve been hiding in the crawl space for the past hour or so. At least I think it’s been an hour. I can’t hear anything at all because of the ringing in my ears.

I take a deep breath and pain shoots across my ribs. I grasp my side and feel the warmth seeping through my shirt. More blood. I continue to shiver as a wave of nausea overcomes me. I start to choke and gag on the bile rising in my throat. I don’t want to die, but I think he’s killed me this time.

God, I hope my sister Reagan is okay. I hope she doesn’t come back to the house today. She left home a couple of years ago and came here today to make sure that I am settling back in.

You see, I’ve been staying with Dax and his family for a few months since the last time Pops beat me up. But Pops convinced me to come home this weekend and things have seemed okay, until tonight when he snapped and really did a number on me because he didn’t like the dinner I made for him. Pancakes. I thought I was doing the right thing since he always loved them before. I thought I was doing something he would like. I always try to do what he likes to avoid ending up like this…

I was wrong.

Tonight, when Reagan felt the tension in the air, she left. She always tries to avoid the violence that erupts when Pops has a bad day. Thankfully, he’s never laid a hand on her.

From what I can remember about my early childhood, Pops would rough Mom up frequently, usually when she didn’t prepare dinner on time or do the dishes. Reagan also told me stories that helped fill in the gaps in my own memories. He beat Mom over little things, but he hasn’t struck a woman since that first time I got between him and my mother when I was only three years old. Reagan told me that, during one particularly terrible fight, I got in the middle of Mom and Pops, and started punching him and biting his knees. I endured the first beating of my life that day, lost two baby teeth, got two broken ribs, and found this hiding place. From that day forward, Pops only directed his anger toward me.

Mom. I think of her and wince. I miss her every single day of this suck-tastic life.

I hated all that he took from her. I despised watching her cry over him on a daily basis. I hated seeing her get hurt. After I started taking the brunt of his anger, things settled down for Mom just long enough for her sickness to take it all away.

I feel dizzy now. I rest my cheek on the cold, damp floor as I try to picture her face.

Mom.

I can only see her ice blue eyes filled with sadness. I close my own eyes and try to feel her around me. “Mom,” I whisper against the cement.

Freaking cancer. It took her away from me. From our miserable excuse of a family.

God, I miss her. I feel like I may see her soon…

My ears are ringing loudly now, and I feel as if I’m spinning. I hear muffled noises somewhere above me.

“Alex!”

That isn’t Pops’ voice. I strain to hear and realize that Reagan is screaming my name.

“Alex!”

I struggle to speak but can only taste the vomit in my mouth. Or is that blood? I try to lift my head, but I can’t. I just can’t.

“Alex!” Her screams get louder and more frantic as loud footsteps pound the basement stairs above me.

She’s looking for me.

Oh no. God, please, Reagan, don’t lead him down here. He doesn’t know about this place. I’m safe here.

“Alex! Please answer me!” She’s sobbing, and I hear her trip on the stairs.

“Reagan?” I manage to say, my voice gravelly.

“Alex. Where are you?” Her desperate cries turn to wails. “There’s blood everywhere!”

I suddenly realize I must have left a trail down the stairs.

“In here,” I whisper as the ringing in my ears completely takes over my hearing. I drift toward the unconsciousness that has been trying to engulf me for the past hour.

“No! Wake up!” She shakes my shoulders, and the pain in my side becomes totally unbearable. “Please, Alex!”

I manage to pry my eyes open and see a blurred face above me. She’s beautiful with long, flowing, golden hair like an angel. “Mom?”

I see her ice blue eyes and swear I’m looking at my mother right now.

“No, Alex, it’s not Mom,” she says desperately as she reaches for me.

She pulls me into a sitting position then suddenly gasps.

A warm rush of fluid flows from my side, and then I puke all over her.

“Oh my God. Alex! What did he do to you?” She’s screaming now as she presses her hand to my side, presumably to try to stop either the blood or my guts from spilling out onto the basement floor.

“Garden rake,” I manage to say.

“Damn.” She sucks in a deep breath. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.” Determination replaces the look of terror on her face.

She gently wraps one arm around me, lifts me onto my feet, and keeps her other hand firmly planted against my wound.

“We need to get you out of here. Now.”

She slowly drags me across the floor, and somehow manages to help me up the stairs. It’s funny, but I don’t feel pain anymore, just cold. Freezing cold.

The faint sound of sirens outside grows louder. My knees buckle and the force of my falling weight pulls Reagan down with me. As my head hits the floor, I turn toward the bathroom and see a shadow swinging through the open doorway.

I try to focus on the shadow as my sister begs me to look only at her.

“Alex, look at me. Please, stay awake. Don’t look over there. Please, just look at me.” Her voice falters, and I realize she’s trying to protect me from something.

Someone crashes through the front door. “Hello? Paramedics! We’re coming in!”

The ringing in my ears returns louder than before. Muffled voices filter through as my sister instructs them to take care of me. Someone lifts me onto something padded and then I’m moving. As we pass the open bathroom, I twist my head to the left.

The last thing I see is Pops.

In the bathroom.

Swinging.

Hanging.

Lifeless.

I’m cold. I drift into nothingness.

Past

Age 22

I
STUMBLE
down the stairs and out the door, distancing myself from
her
as fast as I can. Intense pain shoots through my abdomen, and I barely make it to the street before I puke all over the sidewalk. When I close my eyes, images of the two of them, his hands all over her where mine are supposed to be, fill my head. Vomit and bile rush up again, burning the inside of my throat and mouth. If I weren’t puking, I’m sure I would be crying like a baby. Why is this happening? Why did she do this? Loving her was the first
real
thing that I’ve ever done in my life. Now I have nothing. I slowly stand and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I can’t believe that I just broke up with her.

It’s over.

I. Am. Done.

I just put an end to the only relationship that has ever mattered to me. Tabitha is upstairs in her apartment, and here I am, puking in the street, and trying to get as far away from her as I possibly can. I’m completely crushed, and it’s all her fault. Pain shoots through my stomach again, and I lean against the building, trying to settle down.

I’ve been so fucking patient with her throughout all of her breakdowns. Her depression. She’s hated herself for so long, and I’ve shown her what it’s like to love. I’ve tried to take away the demons that plague her. To make her forget about that monster, Tony. I’ve tried to help her to not be afraid of love. Shit, I’ve tried to help myself, too. I’ve given her all of me and more. My love, my heart, my fucking life.

I can’t believe her. Why did she do this? I warned her about Seth.

She was fucking kissing him! I could kill him, and I almost did. When my fist connected with his face earlier today, it felt so good. Too good. God! What is happening? What just happened?

Why did she do this to us? She ruined us. I trusted her. Loved her.

Fuck. I loved her with every part of me.

That asshole has been waiting for his moment to pounce and take her away from me. To fuck her. Well, he has succeeded, and now, he can have her. She doesn’t deserve me after what she did today. Another wave of nausea passes as I wonder how long this may have been going on with Seth. Shit, I don’t even want to know.

Has she been lying to me this whole time? Things were so real with her, or at least they seemed real to me. She made a promise that she only loved me. Only wanted me. And now she was with
him.

She’s a fucking liar. My stomach clenches when I realize there
must have
been something going on with them all along. I never thought she would do something like this to me. To us.

I saw this coming from Seth, but not from her.

I lean against the side of her building and run my hands over my face. These hands wanted to kill today. To shred Seth to pieces. These hands almost grabbed her and shook her. The rage I felt was like nothing I have experienced before. I felt fire in my veins today, and I wanted her to burn.

Shit.

I take a slow, calming breath and picture my mother’s ice blue eyes. The scared and lonely eyes of an abused woman. I shudder and feel nauseous again. No. I would never do that to another person. A woman. I. Could. Never.

Could I?

No. I’m not like
him
. My pops.

I. Am. Not. Him.

The knot in my stomach pulls at my chest, and I feel a crushing pain as I gasp for air. My world has just come crashing down around me, and I don’t know what to do.

I’m empty and afraid. Afraid of what I just lost. Afraid of what I might do. What I’m capable of doing.

I wrap my arms around my stomach and deeply inhale through my nose, trying to settle myself from this revulsion and anger. I have so many scars from Pops. I was beaten more times than I can remember. I couldn’t inflict this kind of pain on someone else. Ever.

Sadness and regret sweep in and overwhelm me. God, I didn’t even feel like this when he killed himself. What Tabby has done to me, to us, feels so much worse.

I swallow hard to stop the bile from rising again and slam my head back against the concrete wall. Pain radiates down my spine. I need to get away from here. From her. Far away. I can’t be near her or Seth. I might be tempted to use my hands again, and I just can’t allow that to happen. I don’t ever want to become violent.

I push myself away from the wall and weave back and forth down the block toward a cab. When I wave my hand to signal that I need a lift, the cabbie turns his lights off to indicate that he’s not in service. Fuck!

As I walk by the cab driver, I flip him off. Yeah, he can suck it. How the fuck am I going to get out of here? I text Dax to meet me at the High Note. I need to get the hell out of here. Fast.

I need to leave her behind. Leave us behind. It’s my past now. My heart is splattered all over her walls like the pools of blood I left on my basement floor eight years ago. Pops tried to kill me that day.
She
succeeded in killing us today.

She ruined us.

I need to get her out of my mind and heart.

I just hope that I can.