The Devil Behind Me(45)

“They want to see if I can be a candidate for an experimental drug. One that might help me,” he said smiling. I knew he was in pain, I could see it.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath.

My father was getting worse not better and I didn’t understand his doctor. I knew they did the best they could and most of the time it was an educated guess at best, but I wanted him okay. I wanted my father back to the way he was. Fuck, if I hadn’t failed him, if I was somehow better at all this then maybe he wouldn’t be in such a bad state. I reached up and slowly massaged his back.

“Daddy? Where did you park your car?” I asked.

“Downstairs. In the parking lot.” He looked up from his seat on the verge of tears.

“Okay, I’ll go get it and drive you home. Then I’ll go to the store.” I smiled, trying my hardest to hide the sheer agony I felt seeing my father the way he was. There wasn’t a damn fucking thing I could do about it either. I was hopeless and helpless. I couldn’t do anything to ease his pain or his suffering and whatever I tried only caused him to get more flare ups. I headed to the elevator, pressed the down button, and waited. My father was going to meet me downstairs once he finished with the doctor.

“Here to see a plastic surgeon to fix that ugly scar of yours?” Clara’s voice was like cold water had been poured over me in mid-winter.

“Hello, Clara,” I said flatly as I continued to stare at the elevator with hope the doors would open and I could quickly leave from here.

“Why? Why the fuck do you get to have Daimon?” she seethed.

“Excuse me?” I turned to face her. She glared at me through her fake eyelashes.

“You had him all throughout high school. Not one day went by without him being by your side and now what? You guys are dating. Daimon is mine,” she said spitefully.

“It’s too bad he only wants me,” I fired back.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” she hissed and slapped me hard. I felt the pain across my face. My skin grew hot with shame. I reached up and held my hand where she had hit me, feeling my skin throb. “What is it about you that he’s so fascinated with? What? The fact you’re poor or the fact you’re nothing but a fucking loser? I didn’t get it then and don’t get it now. Poor little Addie needs her prince charming to swoop in and save her. Aren’t you tired of being the constant victim in your life? Can’t you get over yourself already and move on from this act you’re pulling?” she accused.

I dropped my hand as a toothless grin appeared on my face. I watched her as her face changed. I must have looked like I was crazy as I continued to stare at her for a few seconds.

“No, I'm not done playing this little game. I like when others come around and accuse me of being a manipulative bitch. Then again, you would know, since that’s all you are. It’s not my fault Daimon wants me and not your sorry ass self. It’s not high school and you can’t hide behind your family’s wealth anymore. Touch me one more time and I’ll have you arrested for assault,” I said coldly.

“Just try,” she smiled. “I’m coming for you, Addie. I'm warning you Daimon is mine and you should stay away from him,” Clara declared. I inched closer to her. My grin growing as I watched her take a misstep back, causing her to almost fall.

“You can try, but know that Daimon is mine and he knows it.” The elevator dinged and it was my cue to leave. “Bye, Clara.”

I walked into the elevator and stood tall, but the moment the doors closed I fell back. The angry red marks of Clara’s slap pulsated on my face. It hurt, bad.

I finally found the car and waited for my father to emerge from the door out front. When he did, I began the drive back home. He was lost, pensive as he stared out the window of the car. I watched him as he looked out the passenger side window, not bothering to acknowledge some of my questions. I was grateful he hadn’t noticed the large welts on my face.

Once we were outside of the house, he opened the car door and barely said good-bye to me as he headed inside. I left and drove to the diner. Once I was close I decided to park the car a few blocks away. I let my head fall back onto the headrest and quietly sobbed. I closed my eyes, remembering how listless my father looked. The lively, loving father I had was now despondent and lost. “I did it,” I kept saying as I cried. I grabbed onto the steering wheel and hung my head. The anguished feeling of being a failure and somehow not being able to correct this situation tied me down like an anchor. I fucking tried, I tried so fucking hard, it hurt; it burned inside me. I failed them both. I failed them all. Had I not asked my mother for something special, had I just shut up, she would have lived and not lost her life senselessly in a stupid hit and run. My father wouldn’t have been broken and Sofia would have had a promising future. But no, I had to ask, I had to push and in the end I caused all of this. I did all of this. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how many hours I put in, everything I touched fell apart. I couldn’t hold it together. I couldn’t make it better. I kept crying, lamenting at how much I had fucked everything up.