Tragic Love (19 page)

“Presley, baby. Wake up!” I shout as I tap on her cheek.

The white foam dripping from her mouth is wetting my hand when I try to wake her. I put my cheek down to her nose hoping to feel her breath. It’s there, but it’s faint. On the floor next to her is an old metal spoon covered in residue and an empty plastic bag with remnants of a white powder inside. The belt is still synched around her bicep and the needle is dangling like a pendulum from her arm. A small line of blood has escaped from her vein, running down the length of her arm and has begun to pool in the palm of her hand.

“Presley, baby, what did you do?”I say over the massive lump forming in my throat.

I tap her on the cheek again, trying to get her to snap out of her trance, but it’s not working. My fingers move to her neck where I can feel a light thump, giving me a little relief she still has a working heart.

Delilah rounds the corner and lets out a deep gasp. I wave my hand away and say, “Don’t let my daughter see this.” She quickly turns a now happy Mia away so she can’t see her mom strung out and overdosing on the bathroom floor.

Commotion from the front door gets my attention and all of my fear is transformed into rage. I sit on the floor with my dying girlfriend in my hands as the paramedics casually make their way into the bathroom, pushing a gurney and carrying medical bags. I want to punch every single one of them in the face because it took them an eternity get here.

The bastards pass judgmental looks toward Presley lying incapacitated on the floor and I want to kill them all. Yes, she obviously has an issue, but those fucks treat her like she’s a drug consuming crack whore. My face is heated and my blood is molten in my veins. When they try to take her out of my arms, I clasp harder to her weary body.

“Drake!” Delilah snaps in a motherly tone. It’s instructing me to back up and let them do their job.

I shrug off the floor and watch while they begin checking her vitals. I step into the hall and start to absorb the reality of the situation. I can feel the fear starting to overtake my body as I watch everything crumble around me. Nothing in this world can prepare a man to watch the wilted body of his true love being heaved onto the gurney.

Cutting through the thickening fog of my mind, a paramedic shouts, “She’s crashing!” and then a small, stout woman begins to straddle my girlfriend and desperately starts compressions, thrusting her hands methodically up and down on Presley’s chest.

“NOOOO!” I shout and collapse to my knees.

The tears fall from my eyes, soaking my cheeks as I watch the love of my life, mother of my child and the very reason I breathe, get wheeled from our apartment, slowly being ripped from my world.

Chapter 12

Drake

There are moments of such significance in your life it doesn’t matter what you do or what someone can say, nothing will eliminate that memory from the deepest recesses of your mind. These moments will always be there, filling up your entire life with so much joy you could combust at any second. Then, there are moments filled with the most earth shattering pain ever in existence when you feel like you’re dying a horrible death. These moments live so closely together in your mind, they are almost intertwined with one another. Moments that are spinning on an axis, carefully balanced on the rim of your sanity.

Not living far from these significant events in one’s life are the feelings attached to them. Feelings that live in the shadows of these particular moments where a person never knew one could experience such emotions until the day that you live through such an instance because they only surface when you fully understand just how life altering the event is. They’re unexplainable. A person is not meant to feel any of these foreign feelings until they’ve experienced that moment first hand.

Right now, the unexplainable pain ripping away at my insides accompanies the moment I’ve just witnessed. Presley Quinn is the love of my life and she’s dying on a cold, hard gurney as she’s being transported from the home we share and taken to the ambulance. Each thrash of agony has paralyzed my entire body as I fall limp onto the floor.

My eyes leak, but I can’t even utter a sob. I’m completely numb. This cannot be happening right now. My daughter is meant to have a mother, needs to have a mother. I am not meant to live this life without Presley living it with me.

I can hear the faint noises of Delilah screaming and Mia crying, but I can’t register what those sounds mean. My mind won’t accept any of it. I’ve been sucked into a tunnel and everything around me is a dizzy haze. Nothing is clear. Nothing is making sense.

I don’t want to accept Presley is dead. That would mean I have to accept being left in this world without her, left raising our daughter alone. I sit back on the floor, pushing my back against the wall and holding my head in my hands. The tears have stopped falling from my eyes, yet their moisture is still present on my face. Strangling breaths are slowly escaping my mouth as I try to cope with every ripping emotion moving inside of me.

Jake is kneeling down in front of me, his eyes are intense and his mouth is moving, but I don’t hear any words. I simply look into his brown eyes and struggle with trying to understand any of what he is saying. He is tapping my face and snapping his fingers, but nothing is registering. The only thing I can see is her, lifeless on a gurney.

It’s not until a hard, burning slap busts across my cheek, that I’m snapped from the horrific scene of Presley dying, playing like a horror movie inside my brain.

“Drake!” The volume of Jake’s voice is finally registering with my eardrums.

Another slap busts across my face and I’m on fire. Instantly livid. Before I know it’s happening, I attack. Lunging myself from the floor, I tackle Jake, landing on top of him, pummeling my fist into his gut, face and chest. The explosion of anger is out of my control. My hands are detached from my sanity as I start taking all my anger, sadness and frustration out on my brother. He doesn’t fight back, but protects himself with his forearms over his face. Blood is flying in the air, but I don’t bother to see where the source is coming from. I continue to plow my rabid hands into my brother.

Strong arms securely wrap around my waist and the next thing I know, I’m flying backwards, rolling onto the floor. I quickly make it to my feet and charge again toward my brothers. I will fight them all until they feel as bad as I feel now. Reggie and Jeremy tackle to me to the ground, pinning my body down while holding my legs and arms securely.

“LET ME GO!” I shout through my anger. My skin is hot and slick with sweat.

“Drake! She’s alive!” Reggie screams back to me. “Look at me!” His breathing is labored and his eyes are brutal. “Presley’s alive!”

She’s alive?
Did he just really say that or is my sanity finally detaching from reality? My body instantly goes limp and I look into Reggie’s eyes, trying to read the truth of his words.

“What?” I whisper, confusion laced through my voice.

“The paramedics revived her right before she was loaded into the ambulance. She’s alive, Drake.”

I feel the weight of my brothers lessen and then leave. I’m instantly to my feet. I have to get to her. I need to see it with my own eyes that she is truly alive. I quickly glance at Jake who’s sitting against the wall, holding his jaw, blood running down the side of his face from a large cut above his left eye.

“Sorry, brother,” I apologize. He gives me his trade mark smirk and a light nod of his head.

Shrugging off any other thought, emotion and helplessness building in my body, the only thought I will let my mind process is that Presley is alive. I need to get to her.

I run from the apartment, flying down the walkway and down the stairs into the ice cold rain. The ambulance is pulling out onto the street, red and blue lights light up the dark sky as the siren pierces my ears. The slapping of my feet in puddles causes the rain to soak the bottom half of my jeans as I move to my black Chevelle. Delilah pulls open the door and throws herself in the passenger seat just as I slam myself in the driver’s seat. The uncomfortable prick of the nine millimeter pushes into my back. Delilah’s eyes grow large as she watches me pull it from the back of my pants. I reach across her and safely secure it back into the glove box.

It only takes me moments to catch up with the ambulance, driving the fifteen minute commute to the hospital. We say nothing on the way there. I have only one thing on my mind and that’s to see Presley alive, nothing else matters.

We pull up behind the ambulance under the canopy of the hospital. I look over to Delilah and demand, “Park the car. I’m going in with them.” She says nothing as she slides into the driver’s seat and pulls the Chevelle away.

Paramedics pull Presley’s body from the back and usher her through the glass doors. I can’t see her face, only the faint traces of her bruised and battered arm. They whisk her into a back room while I am immediately ushered to the waiting room. The nurses tell me the doctor will update me once they’ve seen her.

Reluctantly, I take a seat in the waiting room and fist my hands in front of me. I only wanted visual confirmation she’s alive. That’s all I need. I just need to see her beautiful brown eyes filled with life looking back into mine.

Moments later, Delilah sits beside me. Again, we say nothing to each other. There are no words to share between us, there’s nothing until we know if Presley is really alive. I feel her small hand on my back. The pads of her fingers are rubbing small, comforting circles. The faint humming from her is the only sound between us.

Several minutes go by and my patience has gone with them. I begin to pace the length of the small waiting room. The large, square room is open with an admissions desk located inside the glass door entrance. Acting as a barrier, the desk divides the public from getting to the emergency rooms. Every time I see the wood, swinging door flap open, my eyes instantly snap and my stomach jumps into my throat. The anger I’m trying so hard to defuse only returns when I see the person coming through the door is not here to talk to me about Presley’s condition. I can’t stand this fucking waiting!

Frustrated as hell, I eventually flop my tired body into the hard, plastic chair and stare at the white, speckled tile floor. I’m trying to clear my thoughts, but I keep going back to seeing Presley dying on our bathroom floor, the white shit running out of her mouth and her lifeless body lying limply in my arms. It makes me feel like I’m dying all over again.

I should have been there. This would have never happened if I was just there with her. I will never forgive myself if anything were to happen to her.

I know Carter is responsible for Presley’s drug addiction. He may not have forced her to shoot up; however he definitely had a play in her current condition. There’s no way he couldn’t have. From what Darcie has shared, he is one of the biggest heroin suppliers in town. Dealers come to him to sell the dope to the street kids and junkies. He is connected to the big time drug lords, and he and another guy control every shipment of heroin coming to Sulfur Heights and the surrounding cities. Fucker!

The only encounter I’ve had with the kid is watching him drag Presley’s body up the steps yesterday, but I can guarantee one thing, if I run into him, he will know what pain really feels like because I will be breaking his knee caps.

Delilah returns from speaking with the nurses and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Nothing,” she says while dabbing the tissue under her eyes.

I keep my eyes trained to the tile floor as I say, “I should’ve never left.” This is my fault entirely. I know we would not be here right now if I only told Darcie no. Even though Presley was asleep, I should have stayed. Every time I look into my daughter’s eyes I see Presley. How am I suppose to look into those eyes every day, knowing it was my fault her mother is dead. How will I ever explain that to my baby?

Delilah sniffs and whispers, “I should’ve never fallen asleep.” Then she catches the loose tears in her already damp tissue. Both of us will spend the remainder of our lives blaming ourselves if anything tragic were to happen.

I’ve been in such a fog since we’ve arrived that I didn’t realize Jake was here until I see his tattooed arm drape over Delilah’s shoulders. She leans into him and begins to sob. Jake is a great guy. I’m glad he’s finally letting people, other than our family, see that. He’s letting Delilah see what kind of man he can be when he’s not drunk, hustling or fighting. No one ever gets to see this side of him. I can see Delilah and him have become good friends. There is no way he would let anyone see the compassionate side unless he truly respected them.

I look over to my other side and find Reggie and Jeremy. All of my brothers are here, grim looks covering their faces. They’re here for Presley and to support me no matter what happens.

I give Reggie an appreciative smile and ask about Mia. He informs me Darcie is staying with her at their house and not to worry about my baby. I smile, thinking about Darcie taking care of a baby. Although she’s female, it doesn’t mean the instinct is naturally ingrained in her. I will never forget the first time she held Mia. Darcie looked like she was going to puke.

I go back to staring at the cold, tile floor. It feels like hours have passed by, while in reality, it’s only been about forty-five minutes. Each tick of the clock and movement of the door is driving me insane. I need to know what’s going on before I force my way back there and start knocking heads.

Finally, after waiting an eternity, a man wearing blue scrubs and a white coat strolls over to all of us. “Presley Quinn’s family?”

I instantly stand towering over the doctor’s small frame. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend, Drake,” I introduce myself and then ask, “How is she?”

“I’m sure you know how close of a call Presley had. The paramedics were able to revive her with an adrenaline shot to her heart. She came to right away and we expect her to make a full recovery.” My legs start to weaken as relief encompasses my body. Thank you, God. She’s going to be fine.