“Eh, some nights are better than others. I get up and check the doors and windows at least four times a night.” She smiles up at me behind broken eyes. “Every bump in the night frightens me. Hell a fly buzzin’ through the house woke me up at five am and I’ve been up since.” I figured as much…small dark rings hug her beautiful eyes even though she does her best to cover them with makeup.
“And the panic attacks?”
“I’m workin’ on ‘em, Luke. It ain’t easy, especially when I feel so weak.” She sighs so heavily I can hear the defeat she feels in that long puff of air. I hate seein’ her hurtin’ like this. If there was anything I could do to take all her pain and carry it myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat. No woman deserves the life Savannah lived through…not a damn one of ‘em.
“Ya okay, Luke? You look tense.” Savannah’s mouse like voice pulls me from thought just as a rash of anger begins to blanket itself around me.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m fine. I just worry about you. I know you asked me to let you figure all of this out on your own, and I try to give you your space. But sometimes at night I can feel your fear miles away. So I have to come, you see. I have to be here just in case you open that door lookin’ for me. Because you know that when you need me, I’m gonna be here.”
She smiles a breathtaking smile like I just made a little of what’s wrong in her world right. And I’ll be damned if that smile don’t cause my heart to clap a damn standin’ ovation.
“You’re such a good friend, Luke. Don’t think I’d make it through most days without you.”
I kiss the top of her forehead, smilin’ to myself. “That’s good, sweetheart.” But what I don’t tell her is to me, she’s so much more than just a friend. To me she’s the whole damn world.
Sleep…ah sleep is so overrated. These days I’m lucky if sleep captures me every thirty hours. I’ve cut back on coffee and started melatonin only to cause myself terrible caffeine headaches. I try to settle the kids in at night, allowing myself time for a relaxing bath but within ten minutes creaks and bumps startle me and my nerves get all worked up. The only escape I’ve found that relaxes me is reading.
Since rediscovering my love for reading I’ve realized my taste in genres have changed dramatically. I used to enjoy the Classics as well as sweet happily-ever-after romance novels. But I learned the hard way that the concept of a happily-ever-after is absolute bullshit. There’s no knight in shining armor to protect the Queen. No Prince Charming who searches throughout the kingdom for his Princess based on a shoe she left behind at their happenstance tryst. No, that’s all fairy tale bullshit, twisted to make young girls believe in such happiness when it doesn’t even exist. So I’ve taken a more realistic interest in novels, reading dark romance. You see it’s not that I don’t believe in love, because I do, so very much. I just don’t believe that there is such thing as an ever-lasting happiness. Love is real. Love is raw, love is painful. Love can make you feel like the most beautiful flower under the bright morning sun, then strip you of your delicate petals and leaving you to wilt in the cold dark rain. Love can deplete you of every part of who you are, leaving you to be a weak and terrified stranger. Well, love can kiss my ass.
Okay so back to case in point. You see I have a habit of ramblin’ a bit when I’m nervous, so these days it seems my mouth is never shut. I’m slightly surprised my jaw isn’t sore from my constant chatter. Last night.
Last night was a very long night. After reading Brailee and Braden a bedtime story, I curled into the ten inch section of mattress they so sweetly decided to share with me in my king size bed and opened a book on my Kindle. I was hoping after a few chapters sleep would carry me away to a peaceful dream. I finished one book, then after reading half way through another I finally fell asleep. I woke up at five am to the annoying sound of a house fly buzzing through the hallway and my Kindle pressed firmly against my cheek. Yeah, by no means should the buzzing of a tiny little fly be loud enough to wake up one person, but I don’t exactly have normal sleep habits. I wake with a start if one of the kids rolls over and the mattress creaks.
I was really hoping the transition of moving from our family home to my childhood home wouldn’t be so difficult, but so far it has been. Brailee is adjusting just fine, kid acts like she ain’t got a care in the world. I swear she’s so much like Carly Jo, some days it makes me jealous that I don’t have the incredible strength they both share. Braden…well Braden is clinging to me as if it’s his first day of Kindergarten all over again. His sleep is almost as elusive as mine and the nightmares my baby experiences are gut wrenching. He misses Josh terribly and constantly asks to see him and his Uncle Drew. Neither of the kids understand the circumstances that turned their lives upside down, but I’m always honest with them which is the hardest part. They’re still young, and trying to understand that Josh is at fault for the mess our lives have become is hard for them to process.
I try my very best to smile, to hide the mass of emotions that I battle with each breath. Some days are easier than others, and some…some bring to me my knees and leave me in a heaping pile of heartache.
After searching out that damn house fly, I check the doors and windows then start a pot of very strong coffee. Being completely honest, I’m exhausted. My brain feels fuzzy and confused, but each time I beg it to shut down and rest, it laughs at me. So here I am up before the chickens with a big ol’ cup of coffee and my Kindle in hand. Now I could have taken this time to work out, clean the bathroom or wash some laundry, but that would have required me to move about the house and that is not happenin’ when it’s dark outside. This house is huge and too spread out for me. Each noise I hear throws me into a state of panic, so during the pitch black hours of night I require utter silence. When the sun peeks through my windows, that’s when the world as I know it awakes – and not a moment sooner.
I feel like a prisoner in the night, terrified to move about my home. Also worried that I’ll not hear an intruder, although I highly doubt anyone would try to break in. But with the life Josh led, it’s hard to tell the sort of enemies he’s made. So when the bright glistening rays break through the slits of the blinds I grab a throw blanket, a warm cup of coffee, stuff my kindle down in the crook of my arm and set out to the porch to enjoy the beautiful fall morning.
Opening the front door, I clasp my hand over my mouth to suppress my laughter, but honestly it’s too much. I make my way over to the swing, sitting softly but giggles slip free waking up a sleepy headed Luke.
We sit on the swing for a short while enjoying the beautiful fall morning together. Luke is obviously concerned about me, and although I’ve asked him for some space while I learn to stand on my own two feet, something draws him to me. I won’t lie and say that finding Luke on my porch swing more often than not is an inconvenience, because let’s face it he’s HOT. But each time I sit down on the swing and he tucks me to his side I get confused. I like to think it’s the lack of sleep that’s causing my brain to be a jumbled up mess, but even with a well-rested mind that man can muddle my thoughts.
Luke is a difficult man to understand, but there is conviction deeply engrained in his eyes. He’s mysterious and doesn’t ever talk about himself or what pains him. I want to pry, to offer him the strength he continually offers me, but I have no strength to share. So I just thank God that I have a friend to comfort me while I’m dealing with the mess my life has become.
Chapter Three
Therapy Session #3
“Good afternoon, Josh.” Dr. Hampton smiles entering the small, stale office. She takes a seat in the chipped wooden chair positioned by the window, before pulling a legal pad into her lap. Fisting my cuffed hands together, I can feel my jaw tic with impatience. Today is my third session and I’m not too confident in regards to the therapy plan Dr. Hampton has in mind.
“Today I’d like to discuss your relationship with Savannah. Are you comfortable discussing that?”
“Do I have a choice?” I deadpan, frustration already crawling along my skin. I’ve always been the strong silent type, preferring to express myself with actions.
“You always have a choice with what you divulge, Josh. But the more open you are with me, the better I can help you. Shall we begin?” I nod and she clicks her pen open, ready to take notes on whatever statements I make.
She begins with the basics. How long have Savannah and I been together, where did we meet, what characteristics Savannah had that drew me to her. She wasn’t too happy with where all this was going. Once she realized that I was a pawn in a scheme to embezzle the Simon Empire from Savannah’s family, Dr. Hampton grew very uncomfortable. She scooted closer to the edge of the chair, her eyes intently gazed on me as she listened to the vile details of our plot that fell apart at the seams as soon as I’d realized I’d fallen in love with my target.
“I realize this is a sensitive subject for you Josh. I’d like for you to elaborate on the abusive nature of your relationship, please.”
“Elaborate?” My brow quirks up and I can feel the vein that runs along my temple throb with tension.
“Yes, tell me what prompted you to abuse Savannah. If you loved her, what events took place to cause you to want to do her harm? It’s crucial that you make me understand your feelings towards the abuse.”
“Love.”