Fight With Me (Fight and Fall) (19 page)

             
I look back over at Officer Fitzgerald, realizing how much this entire situation is bothering him. My brow furrows, trying to understand how he can be a police officer yet feel so much emotion over this. He’s taking this almost personally and I want to know why.

             
“I’ll give you my statement. Just promise me that you’ll do everything in your power to find Marcus. I don’t care about the others involved, officer. They were just followers with no backbone. I want you to find him and make sure that nobody else has to go through what I did,” I say, looking directly at Officer Fitzgerald.

             
His body tightens, a silent knowing passing between us. I can tell that finding Marcus means something to him.

             
“Emma, I can promise you that we will find him and make sure that he pays for what he did,” Officer Fitzgerald says, startling me.

             
The sound of my first name coming from his lips surprises me. For some reason I didn’t think that he would speak during this visit. The older officer seemed like the one who was supposed to do all the talking.

I look over at Officer
Mendez and realize that this was definitely not the plan. He seems irritated and unpleased by what Officer Fitzgerald just said to me. I feel a sense of pride come over me, pleased that he defied his fellow officer to comfort me.

             
I nod at him, finally ready to give my recollection of the attack. They record my entire speech, taking notes when necessary. I find myself relieving every horrible second, every agonizing minute. I see Officer Fitzgerald take a few deep breaths, clearly angered and disturbed by my account of what happened.

             
“I have Mr. Crowe’s number and will contact him in order to get ahold of you. We will keep you updated when we find out any more information,” Officer Mendez says to me as he stands up to leave.

             
“Why do you have his number? You can just contact me directly. We no longer have a relationship, whatsoever, officer,” I say annoyed.

             
“You’ll have to sort that out with him, Miss Blackwell. I was informed that he would be looking after you and that you would be recovering at his house. If that arrangement changes, then please notify me and when can figure things out from there,” he says, leaving his card on the table near my hospital bed.

             
I really can’t stand this guy. His cold, systematic behavior is not going over well with me, considering the trauma I recently went through. I don’t need people to bow down and kiss my feet for fuck’s sake, but I do need a little understanding and sensitivity.

             
I look over at Officer Fitzgerald, his expression hesitant, almost as if he wants to say something more. He looks at me profoundly before turning around to follow Officer Dickhead out the door.

             
I let out a much needed sigh when I hear the door re-open. I see Officer Fitzgerald come into the room again, shutting the door gently behind him. I look at him questioningly, trying to figure out why he came back and so suddenly.

             
“I’m going to get a lot of hell for this but I had to talk to you again. I’m sorry for the callous way John behaved, I mean, Officer Mendez. I just wanted to tell you that I’m not like him. I will do everything in my power to find Marcus and make sure that he can no longer harm anyone ever again. I wanted to give you this,” he says coming over to the bed beside me.

             
I get a closer look at him, realizing that he’s not much older than me, if not the same age. The way he carries himself exudes maturity and confidence. I think this man has been through a lot and has learned to control every aspect of his life. I think I frazzled him, ruining that facade and I don’t quite understand why.

             
He lifts up a piece of paper that displays his full name and telephone number.
Colin
. His name is Colin. For some reason, I think that name suits him. It sounds innocent, nice.

             
“You call this number if you need anything. I work round the clock but I will get back to you as soon as possible. I want you to be able to trust me, Emma,” he says pointedly.

             
I look at him confused and more than a little wary.

             
“Why are you doing this? Why are you putting yourself out there for me?” I ask on a whisper.

             
“I’ll tell you soon but not now. It’s not important. Just know that you have someone that’s looking out for you,” he says earnestly.

             
I don’t know this man but he’s the kind of man you
want
to trust and depend on. I want to believe him but I just can’t. I trusted Aiden and look where that got me.

I think he notices my lack of faith in him because his mouth slightly twitches at one corner. I guess the least I can do is thank him. I may not trust him but I can at least act grateful for his help.

“Thank you, Officer Fitzgerald,” I say looking at him.

“
Colin. Call me Colin, Emma,” he says softly, looking at me intently.

“
Colin,” I say, nodding in agreement.

“Get some rest and stay in touch. Don’t hesitate to call me,” he says firmly.

I nod at him again, not really sure what else to do. He starts to walk away from the bed, when I see Aiden enter the room. He looks even worse than when I saw him thirty minutes ago. His eyes look almost sunken in and worry lines seem permanently etched into his forehead. It looks as if he aged ten years in a matter of minutes.

I see him glare at
Colin, as I try to figure out why he’s so hostile towards him. Did they have words outside earlier?

“You can leave now,” Aiden says to him with blatant superiority.

“Aiden!” I say to him, embarrassed by his treatment of Colin.

“I was. I just talking to Emma one last time. Told her that she could call me if she needed anything,” he says stiffly to Aiden.

“Well, she won’t. I’m here and she’ll be fine. Have a good day, officer,” he says practically dismissing him.

My jaw practically hangs open,
trying to make sense of what I’m hearing. I think Aiden has truly lost it and given up on any and all niceties towards people.

Colin
ignores him, looking pointedly at me again.

“Goodbye, Emma. Take care,” he says, his eyes softening.

He brushes past Aiden, blatantly ignoring the force that is him. I shake my head in bewilderment and annoyance, even more upset with Aiden than earlier.

He looks over at me, overcome, realizing that that spectacle didn’t go over well with me. He starts coming closer to me but upon seeing my expression, sighs in defeat, his footsteps retreating back the way they came. He lingers at the door, hope flaring in his eyes. I glare at
him, not having to use any words to express my feelings. He looks down reluctantly, closing the door behind him once again, the echo of his departure pounding in my ears.

My eyes start to water, as I finally realize what the door represents.
Whereas this door can be opened, my door is forever closed. Not even by Aiden. Especially not Aiden.

             
                                                        Two Months Later…

             
“I love you, Emma,” Aiden whispers, kissing me on the forehead.

             
“Well, I can’t stand you, so leave me alone!” I retort.

             
I see his shoulders tense as he walks away, turning off the lights as he leaves my room. It’s been almost two months since I’ve been staying in Aiden’s guest room. This outburst by yours truly is part of my nightly routine. Aiden says he loves me and I freak out and push him away. God, how did it get so bad between us?

             
The days have gone by slowly, torturously. Aiden helps me with everything, because I’m practically a helpless invalid. After the accident, I told my mom that I was in a minor car accident and needed to recuperate. I didn’t want her to see me in the condition that I’m in, so I agreed to stay with Aiden, once again. It took begging and groveling on his part for me to agree to this little arrangement but I reluctantly gave in. I didn’t have a choice really. No one else could look after me the way I needed. I can barely shower, eat, pretty much do anything without relying on him. I hate being this helpless, this dependent upon him. I was told that the healing process would take months but come on already! Enough is enough. I’m stuck here, practically a prisoner.

             
He tries to talk to me but I always shoot him down, every fucking day. Like clockwork, he tries to make me open up, which only throws me into a rage. I don’t want his love or kindness. All it has done has bring me pain, death. I know I should I be somewhat grateful for his help but I’m not. The things I say to him are hatful, hurtful, but I can’t seem to stop. It’s like I want him to hurt for everything that has happened to
me
. Unfair, I know, but it’s almost a compulsion now. I’m like a junkie taking a hit. Anger is my drug and Aiden is my forearm, the vulnerable vein that I pump it into.

             
“Em, you need to give the guy a break. He didn’t put you here,” Lucas says to me, earlier today during one of his visits.

             
I usually have company a few times a week. It’s probably the only thing keeping me sane. Leslie and Lucas usually come together and Leo stops by for a bit when he can. All of them have tried to get me out of this funk I’m in. So far, nothing is working. I’m a helpless case and I like it that way.

             
“Why are you defending him, Lucas? You don’t even fucking like him!” I say to him incredulously.

             
It’s like I want everybody to gang up on Aiden and hate him too. Damn, that’s fucked up and even I know it!

             
“We’ve had our differences, yeah, but we’re cool now. He’s really taken care of you, Em. Anybody can see that he’s so in love with you, even when you treat him like shit,” Lucas breathes out.

             
I know that Marcus put me here, I get that. The problem is that he’s not here right now, Aiden is. Marcus is off doing God knows what and Aiden is here as his stand-in. I’ve grown accustomed to my very own human punching bag.

             
Lucas’s words anger me and also open up my eyes to my behavior. I don’t fucking like being called out.

             
“I’m sick of you, Lucas. If you’re going to spout off bullshit, then don’t bother coming to see me again,” I bite off.

             
Lucas looks at me, frustrated and hurt by my words.

Who have I turned into? A monster who attacks the man who loves her and yells at her best friend. This woman
…I don’t like her at all.

             
“You know what, Em…” Lucas starts to say.

             
“Lucas, let’s leave her alone for a while. She needs her rest,” Leslie whispers to Lucas firmly.

             
“Ha, nice one Leslie. I’m glad somebody has control over Lucas’s balls. Seems like he can’t handle them on his own,” I say nastily.

             
I see Lucas’s eyes turn to slits and Leslie sigh under her breath. She grabs Lucas’s hand in hers, as they walk towards the door of my room.

             
“You might find out that one day, everyone who loves you won’t be around to hear the hurtful things you say. We can only take so much abuse. Try to figure out if you’re hatred is enough, Em. If it’s enough to keep you company,” he says sadly, looking beseechingly at me.

             
My throat closes up, not able to think of a good retort. How do you even respond to a comment that harsh, that true?

I know
exactly what I’m doing. I’m pushing everybody to their brink, causing them to meet their breaking point. I’m not worthy of their love. I’m not worthy of one ounce. I take self-loathing to a whole new level.

             
Lucas and Leslie realize that they aren’t going to get the response they want and leave without a backwards glance. I hear voices out in the living room, probably Aiden making small talk with them.

             
I close my eyes, remembering earlier today, cringing at my behavior. I am truly a horrible person that deserves to be alone. Everybody should just give up on me and let me wallow in piece.

             
Before I can think another miserable thought, I hear the doorbell ring. I sit up in bed, wondering who would be here this late at night. I hear muffled talking in the living room, curious as to who it could be.

             
I hear a few hard knocks on my door, whoever it is wanting my approval to enter.

             
“Yeah?” I yell curiously.

             
“Emma. It’s Colin. Can I talk to you please?” I hear on the other side of my door.

             
Colin? Officer Fitzgerald? I haven’t seen or heard from him since I was in the hospital. I was never going to call him because I assumed he would contact me through Aiden.

             
“Um, come in,” I say, holding the bed sheet against me.

             
I’m not naked or anything but it just feels weird having someone you barely know visiting you in bed.

             
I see the door open, the flash of light from the hallway almost blinding me.

             
“Sorry,” he mutters, obviously noticing my discomfort. “Is the light near the door?” he asks me.

             
“Yeah, just to the right,” I murmur as he flips it on.

             
The light illuminates the entire room, giving me the chance to see him clearly. He looks different but also the same. There are subtle differences, but enough to recognize him at first glance.

             
He seems like he’s lost weight from what I can tell. He’s wearing faded jeans, boots, and a fitted blue t-shirt that says
The Goonies
on it. I would smile at the coincidence but my mouth muscles forgot how to move in such a way.

             
“What can I do for you?” I say stiffly.

             
He frowns at my blatant coldness, obviously expecting a warmer reception for some unknown reason.

             
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past two months, Emma. Why wouldn’t you speak to me?” he asks almost hurt.

             
“What are you talking about? I never heard from you and calling people just isn’t my thing,” I say perplexed.

             
“But Aiden said that he told you I’d been trying to reach you. He said that you didn’t…” he says trailing off, a light bulb appearing above his head.

             
He blows out a harsh breath, shaking his head in anger.

             
“I guess I should’ve figured that he was lying to me. He said that you didn’t want to talk to me and that I shouldn’t bother you unless we found Marcus,” he says wearily.

             
My eyes widen, both by Aiden blatantly lying and by the fact that he finally found Marcus.

             
“No, Emma, I’m sorry. We didn’t catch him but we think he was spotted in Portland. A few convenience stores were robbed and he matched both descriptions. It’s just a matter of time before we actually catch him. I thought you would want to know. I had hoped you would be pleased to hear from me regarding this. It’s good to know that you weren’t actually avoiding me,” he says almost relieved.

             
“I’m sorry that was the idea you were given. Aiden and I don’t speak much, so I had no idea you were trying to contact me,” I say truthfully.

             
“Wait, you’re not together? But I thought because you’re staying here that…” he says as I cut him off.

             
“No. I told you at the hospital that we were over. How can I be with a man that caused this to happen?” I say, pointing to my scarred face.

             
When I left the hospital, my doctor stressed how dire it was for me to apply ointment and healing lotion to my face. I decided against it, wanting the scars to be a constant reminder of the pain I endured. Now that the skin has closed up and healed, the scars have become permanent fixtures. I’m sure if I were to go out in public again, my face would draw attention, but most of all, pity. 

             
“Emma, Marcus did this. I know you may think that it looks bad but it truly doesn’t. I think you’re beautiful and I have nothing to compare it to. I never saw you before the scars. Trust me, you’re perfect this way,” he says, now coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

             
I look at him warily, trying to figure out why he’s speaking to me this way. He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know the monster I’ve become. He pities me. That must be it! He feels sorry that I’m forever broken. No one is this kind, not without a reason.

             
“I know what you’re thinking, you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. Maybe if I told you why I’m so invested in this case, you might start seeing things through my eyes,” he says.

             
I nod at him, wanting to know what has been driving him to look out for me.

             
“In high school, all I thought about was football. I guess it’s normal for a young guy to be obsessed with something. All I did was hang out with people from my team or practice after school. I became so blinded and engrossed in it, that I didn’t see what was going on around me,” he says pausing, looking stricken.

             
“My younger sister, Carly, was a junior in high-school when I was a senior trying to get a football scholarship. I started realizing that she had been acting out of character. She would cut class and started becoming out of control, her anger making me and my parents walk on eggshells around the house. I was too self-absorbed and didn’t bother trying to figure out what was wrong with her or try to help her,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

             
“Before one of my big games, I got a frantic call from Carly. She was crying hysterically, saying how her boyfriend broke up with her and how she needed me. I told her to calm down and that I would see her after my game. I didn’t bother telling my parents because I selfishly wanted them at my game. I was going to impress them and all the college scouts and I didn’t want her to ruin that for me. I pretty much hung up on her pleading and played my game to the fullest. After my team won the game, I reluctantly went back to the house with my parents. I was so selfish that I almost stayed out that night with my friends to celebrate our victory,” he says remembering.

             
“When we got home, I went upstairs and knocked on Carly’s bedroom door. I kept yelling her name and pounding the door, irritated at her for not answering. I tried the handle and realized that it wasn’t locked, so I pushed it open, not caring if she didn’t want me there. When I got inside, I saw her laying on her bed, asleep. I yelled at her a few times to wake up but she didn’t move. I got even more irritated, that I went over to her, trying to shake her arm to wake her up. That’s when I noticed the bottle of pills on the drawer next to the bed,” he says his eyes devoid of emotion now.

             
“They were my mom’s prescription pain medication. There must have been thirty pills in there and Carly took every one of them. I started freaking out, shaking her entire body, trying to revive her. I didn’t believe she was dead. Her body was cold but I just couldn’t…”

             
“I held her close to me, rocking her back in forth, screaming for my parents. They both rushed in, taking in the scene before them. My mom pushed me out of the way, trying to resuscitate her, like I was. I fell to the floor beside her, as my dad called nine-one-one,” he says.

             
“I don’t remember much after that. All I know is that she was dead and nothing could bring her back. I just remember this need to find out why she did what she did. She left no note, nothing to explain why suicide was the only option. I had to find out where her pain came from. I had to find closure and maybe a little bit of peace.”