To live in love and die
Seventeen
The walls were white. The ceiling and floor tiles, the sheets, the flower vases, the window, pane, the curtains, the tables were all white. It blinded me. Perfect, pristine white.
I sat alone. My toes were cold. Dry blood caked the skin on my arms and stained my clothes. My entire body was covered in big, puffy, bulging bruises of different colors; black, yellow, blue, green, red and purple. My hair fell around my face, down my shoulders and back. It hung limp and heavy, stained with blood and drenched with sweat and salty, warm tears. I ached everywhere. My head rested, throbbing insanely, in my hands, tears running down my cheeks, over old dry ones.
I’d felt the skin break through the steel, I’d heard the sharp sickening sound of flesh being torn, I’d felt the blood pool through my fingers, trailing down my arm to my elbows, down to the floor to form a small, but rapidly increasing puddle. I’d seen him drop coldly to the ground. He seemed lifeless, and I remember feeling not a single amount of worry or concern. I hadn’t really cared if he was indeed, dead. I’d pulled out the knife from him, and let it clatter down to the floor beside him. His wound gushed blood more rapidly, pooling along his soaked clothes and down to the floor around him, placing him under a big bright stain of crimson.
I’d felt adrenaline, horror, fear, shock, desperation and relief.
But I had felt no pity for him.
He’d begged for helped suddenly, indicating he wasn’t dead. I had ignored him. My heart had threatened to burst out my chest; my mind had shrunk down to one single thought: revenge. I’d slid down against the kitchen counter, resting myself on the floor, my head back against the cold marble surface.
He had turned my life into a living nightmare. He had come home, and he had tried to force me to do something I didn’t want to. He had done unspeakable things. My body was a big, walking pulp thanks to him. Cuts, bruises, scrapes, blood—they were everywhere. He had taken pleasure—amusement, even—in my misery.
I screamed, he laughed. I cried, he smiled. I begged……………he hit me harder.
Blood had dripped from his mouth; his eyes had rolled back into his head. His choking sounds formed words. I snapped my attention back at the dying man on my floor, and focused on his speaking.
‘You know? I only did it because I love you. I wanted you to know what people who love each other do. I wanted to make you feel good. I wanted to show you what we could do together, as one.’
My mind had become a whirlwind of smoke, thoughts, dizziness, and blood. No. He didn’t love me. His claims were false. He didn’t want to do all those things he’d just said. He just wanted sex that I couldn’t give him, so he’d tried to have it…..by force.
Bile flooded my mouth. Fog clouded my vision. I was so exhausted.
‘You don’t even know what love is, you bastard.’ I’d said through gritted teeth, my voice full of venom. My hand wrapped around the handle of the knife again. It hurt to hold it. My wrist was probably sprained, or even broken.
‘And do you? How many people have you loved? How many people have said they love you?’ He chuckled, spitting out blood, his skin turning paler.
Goosebumps rocked my body, red clouded my vision. No one. I thought I loved Kevin. I thought I loved the man who walked through the front door four hours ago.
That was, until, he beat me to the ground when I refused him.
Kevin said he loved me. I may not know what love is, but it’s sure as hell not this.
‘You’re mine Sam. One way or another. I’ll make you mine.’ His voice resonated in my head.
‘I’ll never be yours. You’re dying Kevin.’
His laugh was a disgusting, twisted combination of a choke and a chuckle. ‘Oh Samantha, don’t you see? Don’t you get it? If I die, it’ll be by your hand. It’ll scar you for life. My memory will always haunt you. You will be mine, even if I’m dead.’
My head was shaking, my body started to tremble. The eagerness to get revenge suddenly lost all its grip on me, and I scrambled to get up. My body ached everywhere, fresh bruises forming on my skin from the beating he had given me. I slipped down on the blood pooling on the floor, and the realization of what I had done hit me like a full speed cargo truck in the face. I was willing to let someone die at my hand just moments ago. No. He’d fucked my life up. He’d fucked me up into a big, walking, bruised piece of pulp. He’d literally tried to fuck me. He’d tainted with my sanity, and he’d played with my mind. He’d thrown me around like a rag doll, he’d pounded me like a boxing bag, he’d slapped me like a volleyball player slaps a ball to the other side of the court. He’d turned my life into a complete and utter nightmare in a matter of hours.
But no. I wouldn’t let him get to me. I was better than this. I was better than him.
If I did nothing, I would become a murderer.
I struggled up hastily, slipping on Kevin’s blood once more, falling back down. My legs were too weak and bruised to function correctly.
I reached with trembling arms over the counter and touched along the cool surface. My broken wrist throbbed terribly, but was nothing compared to the rest of my body, or the ache in my heart.
My fingers wrapped around a cold, plastic surface. Desperation clawed at my heart as I punched in the numbers. Kevin was coughing up blood, and his breaths were becoming weaker by the second.
‘911, what’s your emergency?’
“Sam, wake up.” Someone shook me awake gently. I opened my eyes in a flash, startled. Jess was crouching down in front of me; her eyes were dark as they regarded the pain in my own.
My hair was plastered against my neck, sweaty.
I was in a hospital, just like in my dream. This time though, I wasn’t sitting in a pristine white room, recovering from the attack, or waiting for news that would confirm whether or not I had murdered someone.
I was sitting on an armchair in the waiting room. I sighed with relief.
“Yeah? I’m awake.” I shifted in my chair and sat up straighter. I checked the time on my phone: 12:36. Wow. It was already noon and we were still here.
“Lena’s awake.” Jess said. I nodded and got up, following her down the hall and into a yes—pristine white—room.
Sophie was already inside, holding a pale and weak looking Lena’s hand. Lena had a small smile on her dry, cracked and bloody lips, and her puffy eyes lit up when she saw us come in.
“Hey there tiger, how are you feeling?” Jess said, coming up and taking her free hand. I stood at the foot of the bed.
“Hi guys.” Lena responded. Her eyes searched around the room, growing wide. “Where’s Macy?”
Sophie and Jess’s eyes darted over to me, unsure. Sophie nodded her head motioning me to answer.
I sighed heavily. Why me? I cleared my throat, resigned. “Um, we don’t really know exactly. W lost her at the club, and when the ambulance took you we went back to search.” I scratched the back f my neck, nervously. “We looked for about half an hour until the bartender came to us and gave us a note she left behind. Right after that we rushed back here.”
Lena was completely still. Her impossibly pale skin somehow turned even paler. Her stunning eyes turned stormy, and her bottom lip quivered. “What did the note say?” she whispered, barely audibly.
Sophie, Jess and I exchanged looks, confused. Lena seemed way too upset. “It just said she ran into her friend Joshua and that she left with him.” Her eyes were now threatening to pop out of her skull. “B—but I texted her that we were in the hospital! I’m sure she’ll come in as soon as she can.” I tried reassuring her, but my attempt was beyond futile.
She started shaking, her voice was high and pitched when she spoke. “JOSHUA?!?”
I nodded, a little scared honestly. I’d never seen Lena like this. I don’t think anyone has.
“Yes sweetie, Joshua. What’s wrong about him?” Sophie tried soothing her, but Lena snapped.
“He’s this guy she started going out with some months ago. I never had a good feeling about him, and it turns out I was right. He was a heavy drug dealer, and Macy got into some deep shit because of him. Not only with the substance, but with those kinds of people.” Lena’s voice shook, desperate. “She promised she would stop seeing him. She’s just fresh out of rehab.”
Although what Lena said was big, and definitely something to worry about, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something she’s said had given me.
If Macy was just out of rehab…….why was she drinking like crazy at the club?
“Lena, who’s idea was it to go to that club?” I asked.
Tears were running down her cheeks quietly when she looked up at me. “Macy’s why?”
Puzzle pieces clicked inside everyone’s heads, slowly.
Macy had planned on meeting him at the club. She had planned on ditching us. She had planned on fooling us.
Lena seemed to catch on to this, realization dawning like a heavy cloud on her face. “Oh, no.” she covered her face with her hands, and we all decided to give her space.
The three of us, Sophie, Jess and I sat on a small couch under the room window, without saying a word.
Lena sobbed quietly into her hands, her body shaking with raggy sobs.
I was never really fond of Macy, but I knew how much she meant to Lena. Macy was to her like Sophie was to me. I’d die without her. My best friend took my hand, her mind probably filling with similar thoughts. I squeezed affectionately. She squeezed back.
Eventually after a long while, Lena managed to compose herself. She apologized for breaking down and we assured her it was fine.
We talked for a while, trying to calm her and get her mind off of things and the whole Macy situation. It seemed to be working on some level, her tears had stopped. Jess told us funny stories from the guys from before we knew him, (she had been with Jaime for a long time), and we all laughed at the ridiculous things they had done over the years.
An hour later, after a quick visit from the nurse to check on Lena, she asked.
“Does Vic know?”
I cursed. Shit. I forgot to tell her he wanted to talk to her and that he was worried.
“Yeah, Sam called him when we got here.” Sophie said, squeezing Lena’s hand.
The girl’s brilliant blue eyes flicked over to me, questioning.
I fished out Lena’s cellphone from my purse, (a nurse had given it to me when they carried her into the ambulance) and passed it over to her. “You should call him. He was really worried.” I said.
She did as I told her and dialed his number. As she brought the phone to her ear, she puffed out her cheeks in a cute little way. She was so tiny and petite. “Hey babe.” She whispered into the phone, a loving smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. I’m all better now. The girls are here with me.”
You could hear the love on each of her words, directed through the phone to Vic. I wondered, could people notice that when Mike spoke to me? He said he loved me, but did he mean it? Maybe he just said so to reassure me he wouldn’t cheat on the road.
No. Mike wasn’t like that, he wasn’t like the others. I trusted him. And now, I felt guilty for thinking this way.
I craved to hear his voice so much right now. I excused myself from the room and stepped out into the hallway.
Fishing my cellphone from my purse, I checked the screen. Three texts from mike that I hadn’t noticed before:
Hey babe, Vic told me what happened. Is she okay?
How’s Lena doing? Vic is driving us nuts.
I know you’re probably busy, but call me when you can okay mi niña?
I smiled at the screen like a big fat goof. My heart fluttered in my stomach.
It was amazing the effect he had on me with a simple word like gorgeous, even if it was over the phone in a simple text.
Dialing his number eagerly, I bit my lip as it rang one, two, three, four times—
“Hey there Hermosa.” Mike’s deep, raspy voice said.
A smile tugged at my lips. “Hola guapo.” I could hear some other voices in the background of the phone call.
He chuckled, damn was that sexy. “How’s Lena doing?” He asked, his voice a little pitched so I could hear him over the sound. “JAIME, TONE SHUT UP!”
“She’s fine. She’s actually talking to Vic right now.” I said.
“Yeah, I know. Vic went crazy when his phone rang.” I could hear his amusement at his lovesick brother, and probably an eye roll. He usually did that. A lot.
“That’s pretty cute.” I said. I sucked in a big breath and puffed it out of my lungs, sighing. “I miss you Whiskey Hands.” The words sounded sad coming out of my mouth. I craved to have him back here with me, holding my hands in his and making jokes to try and cheer me up when I was sad. But I know he was probably having the time of his life, and I would never take that away from him.
My beautifully tattooed man sighed on the other end of the line. “You know I miss you too Sam.”
I knew. I wanted nothing more right now than to kiss his beautiful full lips, run my hands through his hair, stroke the gorgeous pieces of artwork on his skin. “Twenty six days.” I muttered.
“Twenty six days indeed.” He said.
The nightmare I had earlier today was coming back at me. It was the longest and the most vivid I’ve ever had since I got out of my depression three years ago.
I was scared to go back to that deep, dark, hole again. The dream had felt so REAL. I swear, if I had opened my eyes and seen blood on my hands I wouldn’t have been surprised, not even a little bit.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. If only Mike were here.
“Hey babe, I have to go. We’re in New York right now and the show starts in—ALEXANDER FUCKING SHELNUTT PUT THAT BACK—about half an hour. So we have to go and—I SWEAR JACK IF YOU DON’T PUT THAT DOWN! H—HEY! JOSHUA WHAT ARE YOU?! UGH!—sorry babe, we have to go and set up for the show.” His quick outburst startled me, and my blood froze. Alex Shelnutt? Joshua Woodard? Jack Fowler? As in the drummer and bassist from A Day To Remember and the guitarist from Sleeping With Sirens?
Oh, but of course they were! Pierce The Veil was touring with them. That concert would probably be like my dream come true. Too bad I was broke.
“Wow.” I breathed. Shit. I said that out loud.
Mike’s chuckle echoed through the phone. “I’m guessing you’re into ADTR and SWS?”
‘Into’ was an understatement. I absolutely adored them and their music.
“In fact, you’re touring with bands number two and three of my all-time favorites.” My voice was tiny, trying to shove in the wild fangirl inside of me that was threatening to tamper with my vocal chords and start screaming.
His laugh was the greatest thing ever. “And what about number one?—JEREMY! GABE! IF YOU BREAK THAT MOTHERFU—wait a sec babe—I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU—“ his voice was cut off by the sound of something hitting the floor with a crash, a series of exclamations involving a vast amount of vulgarity, followed by plenty of masculine voices laughing and cursing.
The phone beeped and the screen read ‘call disconnected’. Oh well. I hoped nothing important broke.
I miss his voice already, but quickly shook the feeling away.
Lena was off the phone, and was clearly feeling better. She had a genuine smile on her face while Sophie and Jess laughed hysterically.
I walked into the room and sat back on the couch, dropping lazily on Sophie’s lap.
“Hey fat-ass! You’re heavy.” She protested, while pushing me off of her.
I laughed and gave in. I shifted off her lap and slid in between her and Jess.
My phone vibrated and I took it out. A text from my man.
Sorry, these dickheads are drunk. Facetime tonight? I’ll call you. Ly.”
Although it wasn’t exactly an “I Love You” like the one he’d said on his las night here in my room, my heart still threatened to burst.
Maybe not I Love You, but definitely something.
I typed in a quick reply and looked up to Lena.
“So, when are we getting you out of here girl?”
I sat alone. My toes were cold. Dry blood caked the skin on my arms and stained my clothes. My entire body was covered in big, puffy, bulging bruises of different colors; black, yellow, blue, green, red and purple. My hair fell around my face, down my shoulders and back. It hung limp and heavy, stained with blood and drenched with sweat and salty, warm tears. I ached everywhere. My head rested, throbbing insanely, in my hands, tears running down my cheeks, over old dry ones.
I’d felt the skin break through the steel, I’d heard the sharp sickening sound of flesh being torn, I’d felt the blood pool through my fingers, trailing down my arm to my elbows, down to the floor to form a small, but rapidly increasing puddle. I’d seen him drop coldly to the ground. He seemed lifeless, and I remember feeling not a single amount of worry or concern. I hadn’t really cared if he was indeed, dead. I’d pulled out the knife from him, and let it clatter down to the floor beside him. His wound gushed blood more rapidly, pooling along his soaked clothes and down to the floor around him, placing him under a big bright stain of crimson.
I’d felt adrenaline, horror, fear, shock, desperation and relief.
But I had felt no pity for him.
He’d begged for helped suddenly, indicating he wasn’t dead. I had ignored him. My heart had threatened to burst out my chest; my mind had shrunk down to one single thought: revenge. I’d slid down against the kitchen counter, resting myself on the floor, my head back against the cold marble surface.
He had turned my life into a living nightmare. He had come home, and he had tried to force me to do something I didn’t want to. He had done unspeakable things. My body was a big, walking pulp thanks to him. Cuts, bruises, scrapes, blood—they were everywhere. He had taken pleasure—amusement, even—in my misery.
I screamed, he laughed. I cried, he smiled. I begged……………he hit me harder.
Blood had dripped from his mouth; his eyes had rolled back into his head. His choking sounds formed words. I snapped my attention back at the dying man on my floor, and focused on his speaking.
‘You know? I only did it because I love you. I wanted you to know what people who love each other do. I wanted to make you feel good. I wanted to show you what we could do together, as one.’
My mind had become a whirlwind of smoke, thoughts, dizziness, and blood. No. He didn’t love me. His claims were false. He didn’t want to do all those things he’d just said. He just wanted sex that I couldn’t give him, so he’d tried to have it…..by force.
Bile flooded my mouth. Fog clouded my vision. I was so exhausted.
‘You don’t even know what love is, you bastard.’ I’d said through gritted teeth, my voice full of venom. My hand wrapped around the handle of the knife again. It hurt to hold it. My wrist was probably sprained, or even broken.
‘And do you? How many people have you loved? How many people have said they love you?’ He chuckled, spitting out blood, his skin turning paler.
Goosebumps rocked my body, red clouded my vision. No one. I thought I loved Kevin. I thought I loved the man who walked through the front door four hours ago.
That was, until, he beat me to the ground when I refused him.
Kevin said he loved me. I may not know what love is, but it’s sure as hell not this.
‘You’re mine Sam. One way or another. I’ll make you mine.’ His voice resonated in my head.
‘I’ll never be yours. You’re dying Kevin.’
His laugh was a disgusting, twisted combination of a choke and a chuckle. ‘Oh Samantha, don’t you see? Don’t you get it? If I die, it’ll be by your hand. It’ll scar you for life. My memory will always haunt you. You will be mine, even if I’m dead.’
My head was shaking, my body started to tremble. The eagerness to get revenge suddenly lost all its grip on me, and I scrambled to get up. My body ached everywhere, fresh bruises forming on my skin from the beating he had given me. I slipped down on the blood pooling on the floor, and the realization of what I had done hit me like a full speed cargo truck in the face. I was willing to let someone die at my hand just moments ago. No. He’d fucked my life up. He’d fucked me up into a big, walking, bruised piece of pulp. He’d literally tried to fuck me. He’d tainted with my sanity, and he’d played with my mind. He’d thrown me around like a rag doll, he’d pounded me like a boxing bag, he’d slapped me like a volleyball player slaps a ball to the other side of the court. He’d turned my life into a complete and utter nightmare in a matter of hours.
But no. I wouldn’t let him get to me. I was better than this. I was better than him.
If I did nothing, I would become a murderer.
I struggled up hastily, slipping on Kevin’s blood once more, falling back down. My legs were too weak and bruised to function correctly.
I reached with trembling arms over the counter and touched along the cool surface. My broken wrist throbbed terribly, but was nothing compared to the rest of my body, or the ache in my heart.
My fingers wrapped around a cold, plastic surface. Desperation clawed at my heart as I punched in the numbers. Kevin was coughing up blood, and his breaths were becoming weaker by the second.
‘911, what’s your emergency?’
“Sam, wake up.” Someone shook me awake gently. I opened my eyes in a flash, startled. Jess was crouching down in front of me; her eyes were dark as they regarded the pain in my own.
My hair was plastered against my neck, sweaty.
I was in a hospital, just like in my dream. This time though, I wasn’t sitting in a pristine white room, recovering from the attack, or waiting for news that would confirm whether or not I had murdered someone.
I was sitting on an armchair in the waiting room. I sighed with relief.
“Yeah? I’m awake.” I shifted in my chair and sat up straighter. I checked the time on my phone: 12:36. Wow. It was already noon and we were still here.
“Lena’s awake.” Jess said. I nodded and got up, following her down the hall and into a yes—pristine white—room.
Sophie was already inside, holding a pale and weak looking Lena’s hand. Lena had a small smile on her dry, cracked and bloody lips, and her puffy eyes lit up when she saw us come in.
“Hey there tiger, how are you feeling?” Jess said, coming up and taking her free hand. I stood at the foot of the bed.
“Hi guys.” Lena responded. Her eyes searched around the room, growing wide. “Where’s Macy?”
Sophie and Jess’s eyes darted over to me, unsure. Sophie nodded her head motioning me to answer.
I sighed heavily. Why me? I cleared my throat, resigned. “Um, we don’t really know exactly. W lost her at the club, and when the ambulance took you we went back to search.” I scratched the back f my neck, nervously. “We looked for about half an hour until the bartender came to us and gave us a note she left behind. Right after that we rushed back here.”
Lena was completely still. Her impossibly pale skin somehow turned even paler. Her stunning eyes turned stormy, and her bottom lip quivered. “What did the note say?” she whispered, barely audibly.
Sophie, Jess and I exchanged looks, confused. Lena seemed way too upset. “It just said she ran into her friend Joshua and that she left with him.” Her eyes were now threatening to pop out of her skull. “B—but I texted her that we were in the hospital! I’m sure she’ll come in as soon as she can.” I tried reassuring her, but my attempt was beyond futile.
She started shaking, her voice was high and pitched when she spoke. “JOSHUA?!?”
I nodded, a little scared honestly. I’d never seen Lena like this. I don’t think anyone has.
“Yes sweetie, Joshua. What’s wrong about him?” Sophie tried soothing her, but Lena snapped.
“He’s this guy she started going out with some months ago. I never had a good feeling about him, and it turns out I was right. He was a heavy drug dealer, and Macy got into some deep shit because of him. Not only with the substance, but with those kinds of people.” Lena’s voice shook, desperate. “She promised she would stop seeing him. She’s just fresh out of rehab.”
Although what Lena said was big, and definitely something to worry about, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something she’s said had given me.
If Macy was just out of rehab…….why was she drinking like crazy at the club?
“Lena, who’s idea was it to go to that club?” I asked.
Tears were running down her cheeks quietly when she looked up at me. “Macy’s why?”
Puzzle pieces clicked inside everyone’s heads, slowly.
Macy had planned on meeting him at the club. She had planned on ditching us. She had planned on fooling us.
Lena seemed to catch on to this, realization dawning like a heavy cloud on her face. “Oh, no.” she covered her face with her hands, and we all decided to give her space.
The three of us, Sophie, Jess and I sat on a small couch under the room window, without saying a word.
Lena sobbed quietly into her hands, her body shaking with raggy sobs.
I was never really fond of Macy, but I knew how much she meant to Lena. Macy was to her like Sophie was to me. I’d die without her. My best friend took my hand, her mind probably filling with similar thoughts. I squeezed affectionately. She squeezed back.
Eventually after a long while, Lena managed to compose herself. She apologized for breaking down and we assured her it was fine.
We talked for a while, trying to calm her and get her mind off of things and the whole Macy situation. It seemed to be working on some level, her tears had stopped. Jess told us funny stories from the guys from before we knew him, (she had been with Jaime for a long time), and we all laughed at the ridiculous things they had done over the years.
An hour later, after a quick visit from the nurse to check on Lena, she asked.
“Does Vic know?”
I cursed. Shit. I forgot to tell her he wanted to talk to her and that he was worried.
“Yeah, Sam called him when we got here.” Sophie said, squeezing Lena’s hand.
The girl’s brilliant blue eyes flicked over to me, questioning.
I fished out Lena’s cellphone from my purse, (a nurse had given it to me when they carried her into the ambulance) and passed it over to her. “You should call him. He was really worried.” I said.
She did as I told her and dialed his number. As she brought the phone to her ear, she puffed out her cheeks in a cute little way. She was so tiny and petite. “Hey babe.” She whispered into the phone, a loving smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. I’m all better now. The girls are here with me.”
You could hear the love on each of her words, directed through the phone to Vic. I wondered, could people notice that when Mike spoke to me? He said he loved me, but did he mean it? Maybe he just said so to reassure me he wouldn’t cheat on the road.
No. Mike wasn’t like that, he wasn’t like the others. I trusted him. And now, I felt guilty for thinking this way.
I craved to hear his voice so much right now. I excused myself from the room and stepped out into the hallway.
Fishing my cellphone from my purse, I checked the screen. Three texts from mike that I hadn’t noticed before:
Hey babe, Vic told me what happened. Is she okay?
How’s Lena doing? Vic is driving us nuts.
I know you’re probably busy, but call me when you can okay mi niña?
I smiled at the screen like a big fat goof. My heart fluttered in my stomach.
It was amazing the effect he had on me with a simple word like gorgeous, even if it was over the phone in a simple text.
Dialing his number eagerly, I bit my lip as it rang one, two, three, four times—
“Hey there Hermosa.” Mike’s deep, raspy voice said.
A smile tugged at my lips. “Hola guapo.” I could hear some other voices in the background of the phone call.
He chuckled, damn was that sexy. “How’s Lena doing?” He asked, his voice a little pitched so I could hear him over the sound. “JAIME, TONE SHUT UP!”
“She’s fine. She’s actually talking to Vic right now.” I said.
“Yeah, I know. Vic went crazy when his phone rang.” I could hear his amusement at his lovesick brother, and probably an eye roll. He usually did that. A lot.
“That’s pretty cute.” I said. I sucked in a big breath and puffed it out of my lungs, sighing. “I miss you Whiskey Hands.” The words sounded sad coming out of my mouth. I craved to have him back here with me, holding my hands in his and making jokes to try and cheer me up when I was sad. But I know he was probably having the time of his life, and I would never take that away from him.
My beautifully tattooed man sighed on the other end of the line. “You know I miss you too Sam.”
I knew. I wanted nothing more right now than to kiss his beautiful full lips, run my hands through his hair, stroke the gorgeous pieces of artwork on his skin. “Twenty six days.” I muttered.
“Twenty six days indeed.” He said.
The nightmare I had earlier today was coming back at me. It was the longest and the most vivid I’ve ever had since I got out of my depression three years ago.
I was scared to go back to that deep, dark, hole again. The dream had felt so REAL. I swear, if I had opened my eyes and seen blood on my hands I wouldn’t have been surprised, not even a little bit.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. If only Mike were here.
“Hey babe, I have to go. We’re in New York right now and the show starts in—ALEXANDER FUCKING SHELNUTT PUT THAT BACK—about half an hour. So we have to go and—I SWEAR JACK IF YOU DON’T PUT THAT DOWN! H—HEY! JOSHUA WHAT ARE YOU?! UGH!—sorry babe, we have to go and set up for the show.” His quick outburst startled me, and my blood froze. Alex Shelnutt? Joshua Woodard? Jack Fowler? As in the drummer and bassist from A Day To Remember and the guitarist from Sleeping With Sirens?
Oh, but of course they were! Pierce The Veil was touring with them. That concert would probably be like my dream come true. Too bad I was broke.
“Wow.” I breathed. Shit. I said that out loud.
Mike’s chuckle echoed through the phone. “I’m guessing you’re into ADTR and SWS?”
‘Into’ was an understatement. I absolutely adored them and their music.
“In fact, you’re touring with bands number two and three of my all-time favorites.” My voice was tiny, trying to shove in the wild fangirl inside of me that was threatening to tamper with my vocal chords and start screaming.
His laugh was the greatest thing ever. “And what about number one?—JEREMY! GABE! IF YOU BREAK THAT MOTHERFU—wait a sec babe—I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU—“ his voice was cut off by the sound of something hitting the floor with a crash, a series of exclamations involving a vast amount of vulgarity, followed by plenty of masculine voices laughing and cursing.
The phone beeped and the screen read ‘call disconnected’. Oh well. I hoped nothing important broke.
I miss his voice already, but quickly shook the feeling away.
Lena was off the phone, and was clearly feeling better. She had a genuine smile on her face while Sophie and Jess laughed hysterically.
I walked into the room and sat back on the couch, dropping lazily on Sophie’s lap.
“Hey fat-ass! You’re heavy.” She protested, while pushing me off of her.
I laughed and gave in. I shifted off her lap and slid in between her and Jess.
My phone vibrated and I took it out. A text from my man.
Sorry, these dickheads are drunk. Facetime tonight? I’ll call you. Ly.”
Although it wasn’t exactly an “I Love You” like the one he’d said on his las night here in my room, my heart still threatened to burst.
Maybe not I Love You, but definitely something.
I typed in a quick reply and looked up to Lena.
“So, when are we getting you out of here girl?”
Notes
I'M SO SORRY I HAVENT UPDATED IN SUCH A LONG TIME I HAVE SCHOOL AND HOMEWORK AND RELAPSING AND CONSERVATIVE PARENTS AND SCHOLARSHIP SHIT AND STUFF SO YEAH,I've been pretty busy.
I'll try to update more often guys! You all mean the WORLD to me!
Check out my PTV artwork on my instagram @alebandam or my tumblr artdelirium.tumblr.com
I LOVE YOU ALL BEAUTIFUL WHISKEY HANDS.
Updateeee
4/9/14