Dismantled (Girls on Top #2) (4 page)

I feel numb. I want to be angry. I want to feel sadness. I wish I could yell and scream and smash some things and throw others out the window. But all I feel is blank. My brain is not helping me make things happen. It’s like it’s tied or tethered to something stronger than itself. It still creates thoughts but it’s unable to act on them.

The investigators swabbed and collected what they needed from my skin, hair and nails, took my clothes and gave me one of those half robes that cover your front and has the back wide open letting your ass get some air. The nurse came in and gave me some pills. I think she said they will help me rest. I don’t want to rest. Like a never ending nightmare, every time I close my eyes the scene replays in my head causing my body to shake. I feel cold, so I pull the covers higher up. The nurse tells me there are a lot of people in the waiting room, wanting to see me.

“Do you feel up to some visitors?”

Nope.
“Sure.” I don’t know if I’m going to be able to deal with the pity looks that are about to come my way. I slowly lay my head back on the pillow.

I close my eyes and visualize the one person that can help me build up some new memories. The one person whose innermost goodness can take away a slight amount of the bad I have inadvertently created. I also need my roommate. There is no way I can go back to that house. No way in hell. The thought of stepping foot in that living room makes me tremble.

Keagan opens the door and leads all my friends inside my room. They stand around my bed, all eyes on me. Keagan squeezes my hand and leans over to kiss my cheek.

“Hey, Traxx… we are so glad you are ok… How are you feeling?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Tired, I guess. They gave me something to help me sleep.” My eyes naturally look for
her.
I see her move from behind Keagan, flashing her sweet smile at me. Her warm hand touches my arm and soothingly strokes it.

“Traxx… it’s so good to finally see you. We have been waiting outside for you to be ready. We want you to know that we will take care of everything.”

Colton chimed in, “Yeah, man. No worries. You and Notso will stay with Brianna and me for the time being. Tomorrow we are going to your place to pack everything.” Brianna smiled at me and starts talking.

“We will put what you guys don’t need in a storage unit – I know a great one, nearby Ciara’s place, climate controlled and accessible 24/7. Ciara and I keep some…
stuff
… there.” She gives Colton a knowing look and he looks at her with a crooked smile. A couple of years back, Brianna, Ciara and Colton had to face off with some bad people and Colton had told me about all the weapons that Ciara and Brianna had stowed away in storage. It didn’t surprise me, given they were Military Police while in the Army and Ciara was a weapons expert.

Then it was Notso’s turn, “I’ll start looking for an apartment tomorrow. It will do us good for a change of scenery.” I nodded in agreement.

My friends were staring and expecting some kind of sign that I will be okay. I’m not sure. How can someone get over what I witnessed today? Suddenly it’s hard to breathe. I feel nervous and agitated. I close my eyes and concentrate on the warm touch of Ciara’s hand on my arm. I change the rhythm of my breathing to match her hand’s movement. My chest is no longer tight, and I feel more relaxed. I believe the medication has started to work. I hear my friends discuss their taking turns and staying with me until my release. I don’t want to think about anything. I decide to just give in to the pull my mind is feeling. Slowly the voices just fade and I let the silence and blackness wrap around me.

I’m not sure if I should be here or not. It wouldn’t feel right either way, I think. Ciara and I stand back to the side. I’m glad the day it’s pretty and full of sunshine. There was so much darkness in Marcy’s life she deserves to have light and brightness in her death, at least. The pallbearers gather at the back of the hearse, in order to pay their respect by handling and supporting the weight of the casket. The family plot is in a nice area, with big shady trees, towards the back of the cemetery.

“Are you sure about this, Traxx?”

Ciara’s whisper pulls me away from my thoughts. “Yes. Thank you for coming with me. The guys just don’t get it.”

“Well, I really can’t say that I do get it, but I was not going to let you come here by yourself.” She looks up at me and smiles. I like her smile. It’s always genuine and it really highlights her natural beauty. She continues, “Brianna and Keagan would have come too, but they couldn’t get out of work.”

After I was released from the hospital, Notso and I took residence at Colton’s and Brianna’s place. They had promised that I would never have to return to my house and luckily I haven’t had to. They are the best friends a person can have. They also had the place professionally cleaned and listed it for sale with a real estate agent. I didn’t expect it to sell for a long time, given what happened there, but that’s the thing about a good location – sometimes people don’t care about the history of the home as long as a new floor and a couple of layers of paint can cover it up. I’m sure whoever bought it has a morbid sense of humor.

I haven’t been in the mood to go looking at homes for sale. My mother offered to come to town and take me with her or to take care of it by herself, but I haven’t felt up to that, either. To tell you the truth, the little I have felt lately has been drowned in whiskey. Notso has been giving me space. He could go buy his own place, if he wants, but he feels he’s not ready to commit to that or live by himself. I’m sure that Keagan wouldn’t let him be alone much, but I really don’t want to think about that either. So we compromised to rent a house for six months to a year and then we will figure out what to do. Timing has not been on our side, because we can’t find anything nice to rent that can be considered affordable.

A couple of weeks later, Notso tells me he has rented an apartment. He said he was talking to the Manager at the apartment complex where Ciara and Keagan live and that they were running a special that could not have been passed up. Out of pure coincidence, the apartment is located in the same building as Ciara’s place, but one floor up from her. I have not decided how I feel about that. Sometimes it feels like too much pressure to be “on” and have a somewhat happy face for my friends and family when all I want is to lock myself in a room and never come out.

We hear the priest starting his sermon. Everyone became very quiet and still. The priest’s words were gentle and reassuring. From my position across the crowd, I could see an older couple which I assume was Marcy’s parents. The lady was inconsolable. Perhaps I should not be here. Looking at the sad crowd makes me feel guiltier. Everyone is constantly telling me that it is not my fault. When Detective Hall came to visit to tell me I have been cleared from the investigation, he also mentioned they had discovered that Marcy had a past that consisted of many visits to a mental care facility and she was unstable. She also had a history of inconsistency on taking her medication, which had caused her more problems than given her benefits.

That was obvious to me during the short time we were in front of one another, but I can’t help to think “what if?” What if I had just gotten over the fear of being hurt by a girl? What if I would have not dated and used girls only to satisfy my male ego? What if I would have been a couple of seconds faster in my reaction when I saw her pointing the gun to her head? Could Marcy still be here trying to muddle through life in her own way, just like the rest of us? One thing is for sure, if I had made better choices I wouldn’t have to see her die again and again every time I close my eyes.

When the service was over, I noticed Marcy’s parents looking at me. I wouldn’t know what to say since her daughter died because of me. I feel Ciara’s hand taking mine, and she gently pulls me away, as if she knows the thoughts that are going through my mind.

Once we are in her car, she looks at me and softly asks if I’m okay. I nod, but inside my head, my own hell is burning me alive.

We were able to drag Traxx out of the house in the hopes that he would get distracted, even if for a couple of hours. We are all at Twisted, our favorite bar, sitting at a table, chatting and waiting for the band to start playing. The guys are watching a live game on the bar’s TV. Well, I guess I should say that Colton and Notso are watching. Traxx is at the bar, drinking, yet again, a barrel of alcohol for what seems to have become his go-to reality escape. Girls come by the bar and hit on him constantly, but Traxx politely declines all their advances. He won’t even look at them. There is no interest on his part, he hasn’t gone out with anyone yet and to make matters worse he keeps himself in a perpetual bad mood.

“Brianna, it’s been a couple of months since Marcy’s death, and I’m truly worried. I know we all agreed to let him deal with it on his own for a while in the hopes he will snap out of it but I don’t think he knows how to deal.”

She nods to acknowledge my comment, “You are right. He’s not doing well. Colton finally agreed to speak with him and tried to get him to go see a counselor or psychiatrist, but Traxx was not very happy about it. He pretty much told Colton to shove it – you know where – and left the room. Also, Notso told Colton that Traxx has nightmares almost every night and he wakes up screaming, soaked in sweat. He hasn’t been able to rest.”

“Crap. That makes me worry even more. I really don’t think he can snap out of it all by himself. He has taken it hard, which is good, because that may have been the bomb that forced him to change the course of his life. I’m just afraid that the new road he has taken is not better than the old one. Before, he would hide his real feelings behind a string of lovers, and now he hides his feeling behind countless bottles of alcohol. I think he needs help and I think I know how to help him.”

“You? I’m afraid to ask. Please tell me you are not going to try to cure him with retail therapy? That doesn’t work for everybody, you know? Especially with guys.”

“Ha! Real funny! Says the girl who likes to work out everything at the gym pounding something, or better yet, someone.”

“Hey! I resent that comment! A good round of sparring helps release the tension and the feel good hormones.”

“Endorphins, you mean?”

“Yeeep. You know my tongue doesn’t quite work after a few drinks.”

“Why is it that I think you actually get to feelin’ good because you get to kick somebody’s ass in the ring, and not because you are ‘exercising’?”

She looks at me and rolls her eyes to the back of her head, her lips break into a small smile. “Whatever.” She gently hits my upper arm with her fist.

“All right, Knuckles, we’ll leave it be for now, okay?”

Brianna earned her nickname from me, Knuckles, because while in the service, she re-arranged a guy’s face who was trying to sexually abuse her. She hates it when I call her that. She’s also very particular about always carrying a self-defense weapon or aid. Now that she is a cop, she normally carries her gun and something else. I believe today’s selection is a pair of chopsticks, holding her hair’s messy bun in place. These are not the feeble kind found at restaurants. Oh, no… these were special ordered from Chinatown, California. They are made from ultra-stiff carbon fiber tubing. They are non-metallic, extremely strong, rigid and way lighter than fiberglass. All of us girls have a pair, courtesy of Colton Hensley, Brianna’s beau. When they first started dating, he thought we were kidding about her skills in the ring. By looking at her, she is toned like a girl who works out regularly, and certainly not like a girl who can kick your ass. Since then, he found out the hard way that a girl doesn’t
need
to be a body builder to be strong, and the most important thing about self-defense is skill. But I digress…

“Brianna, I think I have to do something. I just cannot sit back any longer and pretend he is going to be okay… And it would be so much easier if I knew you guys agreed with me. Do you think you can have my back on this?”

“I always have your back, you know that!”

I smile, because I know it’s true. The same way I always have her back. “Yes, sweets, I know you do.”

I get off the barstool, come around and give her a half hug, just as we hear the band starting to play a Jason Aldean cover song.

“Well, sweets, I’ve got to go and convince a very brooding, sad and regretful man to dance. I’ve got my work cut out for me…” I wink at her and leave her shaking her head and slurping on her margarita… Need to remember to do a shot of Patron before we leave. It’s been a rough month.

Traxx sees me coming and makes a point of looking away. This elusive action stops me in my tracks for a few seconds. I can tell this will be more difficult than I thought. I straighten my shoulders and with newfound resolve, I move forward towards him.

I stand next to him. I’m a lot shorter than he is, but since he is seated on a booth, our eyes are pretty damn level. He already knows how determined I can be, so he won’t be able to ignore me for long.

Just as I thought, a minute or so later he looks at me and for just a second his eyes seemed to spark… And as fast as it flicked, it was gone, but it’s in there
somewhere
. I just need to find it.

“What do you want, Ciara?” Hmm, he is trying to pull the a-hole act. He’s gonna need a lot more ammunition to get rid of me.

“I’m here to inform you that your ‘cry me a river’ card has been revoked.” I lift one of my eyebrows at him.

“Who the fuck gives a shit.” He stares back at me, challenging me to go on. His eyes are ardent and furious at the same time. I place my hand on his upper arm, an unexpected move that causes him to flinch. While he takes a quick look at my hand, I hold his arm steadfast. I get close, really close, to his ear.

“Nice act, it may work on the bar flies that keep coming your way, but it sure as hell will not work on me. I know you better than that. I also know what you need. I have answers for you, Traxx. I have answers to all those questions that have been swirling in your head for weeks now. But these answers are not free. There is a price to pay.” He looks at me like a lost puppy who has found a new owner, and I know he is intrigued.

“What do I have to do to get these answers from you?”

“Well, there will be a lot of things you have to do. I can help you, Traxx. But you have to let me. It’s time to move on. Please note that I didn’t say forget. Marcy wanted for you to destroy your life and you are doing exactly what she expected you would do. You are letting guilt consume you. It’s time to find a way back to the living, Traxx. Aren’t you tired of wallowing?”

“I don’t know what to do, Ciara… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy ever again.”

“I know… and there will be plenty of time to talk about it. For right now, why don’t you take your friend – me – to the dance floor and help her spin around a few times?”

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I feel like doing that, Ciara.”

“That’s problem number one – you are thinking too much. Let’s stop thinking for a few minutes and just enjoy the fact that you were spared, you’re in the here and now, and you need to do something with your life. Something meaningful that will help even out the field of shit that you’ve been dealt. I have some ideas and I will help you out of the mess you created for yourself. I promise. The only thing you have to do is trust me. You know
me
, Traxx. It’s
me
. I’m your friend during the good, the bad and the ugly. It’s not easy, but we have to start somewhere. So, here goes: I’m going to take your hand and lead you to the dance floor – don’t look around at anyone but me. You are going to concentrate on the music, and just us. Let me carry the burdens of your mind, if only for a little while. You’ll see - it will all be okay. Trust
me
, Traxx.”

I look at him directly in the eyes, and try really hard to convey security, friendship…
love
. Traxx gives me an uncertain, confused look. I don’t let him dwell on my words. I move my hand slowly but firmly from his arm down to his hand. Then I apply a tight hold and start to move away from the bar, never looking away from his eyes. When he starts to move towards me, my heart dances in happiness, and a small smile appears on my lips. Traxx reciprocates with a tiny small crooked smile, and a concerned look. But he is moving with me towards the dance floor. This is a small victory with a giant jackpot.