No Saint (Wild Men 6)

Standing frozen in front of the shed, I watch her go into the night. A wave of dizziness hits me. I feel like my fucking knees are cut out from under me.

What have I done? The echo of my cruel words fills my ears, almost lost in the rushing of blood, deafening. What the fuck have I done?

Son of a bitch. Rage fills me, exploding through my chest, and growl as I tear into the shed, throw things off the shelves, off the bench where I found the ax. A howl is building in my chest. I break everything I touch. I hurt everyone I care for.

Something crashes. A metal box, spilling a pair of green earrings and some yellowed papers. Jesus Christ. I leave them gleaming in the murkiness and stagger outside, down to the river.

On the ground, I see the sandwich she prepared for me that I threw away, and that howl finally breaks out of me. Why did I throw away the one good thing that’s ever happened to me? This girl. Every little gesture she makes for me, every word she says is a lifeline, and I kicked her out of my life.

She said she worries about me. I don’t get it. Guess I never believed it, even though I wanted to. Me, I’m not worth worrying about. Never was and never will be.

As she’s probably already figured out by now.

Fuck, it’s getting dark. I sink to the ground and punch my fists into the soft earth, tear out clumps of weeds, sink my fingers into the mud. I’ve fought this black fog claw and tooth, but I’m sinking, and I don’t know how to get the hell out.

Get up, I tell myself. Get the fuck up, asshole. On your feet.

Get up and keep moving. You don’t get to break down. You’re made of hardy stuff, remember? You’re like those germs that would survive a nuclear blast. Dad knew it. He threw everything at me to see how much I could take. I took it all. Kept breathing.

About time it all catches up with me now...

***

I wake up late the next day, an empty bottle of tequila in my hand, my head pounding. I can’t remember going and getting it from the house, or drinking it by the river—beside the hole in the ground where Mom had been buried.

It was true, what I told Luna. There’s no grave. No place to sit and fucking weep. Now it’s Monday and I should have been at work hours ago.

Fuck it.

Getting up takes all my effort. My jeans are muddied, and I pick leaves off my face. A headache drills at the back of my eyes.

Goddammit. I stumble back toward the house and the road to town. I’m not staying around here another minute. The garage is where I have my stuff stowed, where I have soap, a toothbrush, my blanket—and a car to work on to get my mind off this shit. Work has saved me from the black pit many times. Let’s hope it does the trick now.

Luna’s stricken face flashes through my memory and it’s all I can do not to slam my fist into the house fence as I pass it by.

Son of a fucking bitch. Why couldn’t I be the nice guy she deserves, treat her right? Why can’t I keep the one girl I really want?

Why the hell do I always have to destroy everything?

Checking the time on my phone, I discover it’s already afternoon. The light in the sky when I squint up is another indication of lost time. Way too much fucking time.

What the fuck.

Then again, tequila can do that to you. Wouldn’t be the first time.

My hands are shaking as I walk up the way back to town, heading to the garage. I light up a smoke and draw on it as I find the first houses, kicking any loose stone I find in my path. I almost wish for Edward and his goons to come beat me up. I’d welcome the physical pain to distract me from the darkness writhing in my mind.

And speaking of the devil... Edward appears like a ghost called forth by my thoughts, stepping onto the street, followed by his buddies, all attitude and sneers.

Fucking awesome. This day is just getting better and better. I try going past them, blowing smoke their way—but they block me, and Edward steps forward, their spokesman or some shit.

“Ross. What’s up?”

I roll my eyes. “What, decided not to open up with punches this time? Mix it up for a change? Thought we’d have ourselves a little chitchat before busting each other’s faces?”

“Yeah, I wanna talk.”

“Woo, he can talk. I’m so fucking impressed. Sorry, though, not interested.” I try shoving past him, but two of his pals shove me right back. “What do you want?”