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“Hey, can you get up real quick?”
“Um, sure,” I say as I stand. Once I’m up, in a flash, he sits and brings me down onto his lap.
“That’s better,” he tells me as he nuzzles my neck. I lean back into him and soak up the warmth from him.
“Tell me, Ash. Why can’t we watch this shit burn? What exactly are you talking about that we can’t be part of?” Storm asks her.
I’ll hand it to Ashlynn. She can hold her own. Without missing a beat, she tells him,“We were talking about that one character that stretches. She’s a mom. Like, if her whole body is elastic, did she just, like, open her vagina, reach in and pull them out? Plop‘em out like eggs? It’s gotta be super fucking easy giving birth when your body does that. Right? Like, why wouldn’t it be? Hell, her husband could open it up and reach—”
“—Okay, enough. Sorry, I asked. Fuck.” Storm shakes his head. It’s obvious he regrets his decision to ask Ashlynn.
“Fucking-a, Ashlynn.” Bri chastises her.
“He asked,” she shrugs, and we all start pulling new drinks out of Ellie’s cooler and the one the guys brought with them.
It looks like this night is about to get a lot more fun. The fact that I’m sitting on Nate’s lap has nothing to do—totally does—with it.
***
That night, Nate drove me home, kissed my cheek, and left to go to his house, where he had Manda babysitting the kids. It’s now been a day since the fire. I had nothing to keep me going, so I fell into bed and passed out when it came time to sleep.
For the first time since I locked myself away, I am alone with my thoughts. Of course, they were back to being negative; each one sounded like Clint.
Where are your friends now?
Why aren’t you working?
You have barely done any cleaning or cooking.
When did you become so fucking useless?
You are always going to feel this alone.
I tried white noise, music, the TV, anything to escape the silence around me while drowning out the noise in my head. I have sleeping pills that I can take, but when I use them, the voices manifest into bad dreams of Clint chasing me. The scenario always changed, but the premise was always the same. Him telling me it was my fault that he is dead. Calling me useless, worthless, ugly, anything he could think of to bring me down. Letting me know that because he is no longer here, I’m going to fail at everything. Nothing I do will be good enough. I’ll never be good enough. Once he’s done, the scene changes. I’m replaying Scott telling me I deserved to get beat. He reminds me that it was my fault and it’s only a matter of time before I piss Nate off and he starts coming after me.
I can’t help the tears and this feeling of helplessness. It doesn’t matter that I have new paint, furniture, or decor in this house. It’s haunted by years and years of abuse. A few good memories can’t undo everything that happened here.
Thinking about what the pills do to me makes everything worse. I should have taken them at this point. At least I’d be asleep.
Getting up, I make my way to the kitchen. Maybe another glass of water will help me. When I get to the doorway, all I see is the first time Clint was physical with me. Even if he was shoulder-checking me, I can’t bring myself to go in there.
It’s because you know you were worthless. He never asked for much, and you couldn’t even make his breakfast.
“Shut up, voice,” I mutter.
I am trying to think about when I felt calm and safe; where was I?
It was never a spot. It’s a person.
It didn’t matter where I was. One person made me feel like I was not only worth something but treasured and cared for. Not even looking at the clock or changing out of my pajamas, I grab my long coat, keys, and purse. I know where I need to be.
I completely phased out while I drove across town to the Butcher Shop. There are no lights on upstairs, making me feel a little guilty. But I know he is the only one who can get me out of my head. He’s the only one who makes me feel like I am home no matter where I am.
I slowly creep up the steps. I stand there for a moment because reality hits me. I wasn’t there when those kids went to bed, but here I am, in the middle of the night, knocking on the door to crawl into bed with their dad. What is wrong with me? Why did I think this was a good idea?
Because you are finally thinking about yourself for the first time in years.
Fuck it. I knock on the door. I wait a few moments before the porch light comes on. The door creaks open, and standing there is a young girl, well, younger than me. She has beautiful red hair, she’s petite, and she seems to have been disturbed from her sleep. My heart breaks.
