I turn around and pound my fist into the brick wall as hard as I can, repetitively, angry with my damn self. The crackling of bone against the wall tells me how much pressure I’m exerting behind each swing. The drugs swarming through my bloodstream numbs my mind from the pain I would be experiencing otherwise. “What did she see,” I ask through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Fuck, I could have explained everything.”
“I tried waking your ass up. You were too fucked up. She walked in the bedroom and saw you shirtless with Rachel laying across your lap. She just stood there motionless for a while before turning around and walking out. She seemed pretty calm, man. I don’t know. I tried explaining, but she just kept walking, mumbling something about eternal heartache.”
I let out a huff and glide my fingers through my sweaty hair. “How the hell did Rachel get in there with me? When I went to that room last night I was alone. I didn’t do shit with her. I never once touched her.” My jaw steels as I picture Rachel’s scheming hands on me. This isn’t the first time she has pulled this shit.
“I don’t know, dude. I just went in there this morning to make sure your ass was still breathing and there she was, half naked, and sleeping on your lap. I didn’t know what the hell happened, so I just left you two alone.” He throws his arms up to show me he doesn’t really want to get involved. “I’m sorry, man. I think your time with Onyx is up. Everyone has a breaking point, a moment when they throw in the towel and walk away. You’ve screwed things up way too many times. You need to get your shit together before you end up dead and alone.”
I stand here and let his words sink in as he pushes away from the wall and walks away, ending the conversation. I’m at a loss for words. I know I’m nothing but a big fuck up. I’ve always been worthless. Even my parents thought so.
Giving my body a few more minutes to wake up and get with the program, I just stand here with my eyes closed, gripping the wall in front of me. I can feel the blood starting to ooze out of the torn skin, running down my fingers, but only because of the wetness and not the pain. I’m still numb from the pain, I always am. It’s what I spend all of my time chasing, and the reason I’m in this situation. How the hell am I going to explain this shit to Onyx? She’ll probably be gone by the time I get there.
Dammit, I fucked up . . .
THIRTY MINUTES LATER I PULL up in front of my apartment and hop off my motorcycle. It took me that long to be able to somewhat function normally. Even from the street I can see a couple of her suitcases on the porch, telling me what a damn screw up I am.
I stand here watching Onyx as she throws another bag out onto the porch, not even bothering to look my direction. It’s really happening. She’s really leaving and I am too fucked up to even fight for her. I am barely holding the bile down that is rising in my throat. Even I think I’m a loser at the moment. How am I supposed to convince her otherwise?
Setting my helmet down on my seat, I sprint over to the porch and reach for her arm just as she sets down another bag. “It wasn’t what it looked like. Let me explain.”
Her scorching green eyes meet my amber ones and I feel my heart drop to my stomach. There is nothing left in her look but hatred and pain, and it hurts even more knowing where it came from. I did this to her and I’ve been doing it for the last six years.
“It doesn’t matter, Hemy,” she mutters. “You don’t think I know you didn’t sleep with that tramp? I know it . . . but the question is how much did she enjoy getting off on you while you were drunk, high, and passed out? How do you expect me to feel about all of this, huh? The thought of her touching you makes me want to puke. Her hands groping your body, touching your hair; being places mine should be. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t continue to stay in the shadows, tormenting myself mentally over you. I just can’t.”
I swallow and place my hand on her chin, stepping closer to her. I see her eyes dart down to my lips before she pulls her face away and takes a step back. “Don’t,” she whispers. “Just. Don’t. Please, let me go.”
It hurts having her push me away. Not being able to touch my woman is the worst pain ever, but I don’t blame her. “I have no excuse. I’m a mess. I know that. I’m trying to get by the only way I know how, which is to forget sometimes.”
“Well, I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t deal with it. I gave it everything I had, and now there is nothing left to give. Every day that I’m with you I die a little more inside; lose a little more hope. I understand that you had a messed up childhood. I understand that your shitty parents left you. You were a young child, alone, and scared out in the world; I get that, and I can’t tell you that your sister is still out there, or that she is even still alive. I can’t take that all back, but what I can do is show you that love exists, that I’m always here for you. I have tried. I really have, but I can only take so much, Hemy. I understand your reasoning behind your behavior, but at the end of the day . . . I should be your only.” Her voice is broken and it kills me.