Lifeline

It’s where I go to face everything I’ve lost.

It’s filled with despair, regrets, and grief. It’s so thick in the air it drips down the walls.

I’m shoved into a shower, and a second later, cold water rushes over me. Leaning back against the wall, my head knocks into the tiles, but I don’t feel anything. I stare at my uncle, then let out a sorrow-filled chuckle. “You can’t fix me this time.”

Uncle Carl starts to unbutton my button-up shirt, and he keeps going until I push his hands away. “I can do it myself.”

“Like fuck you can,” he snaps at me. Then, waving his arms over my body, he shouts, “Look at you, Daniel! You’re a fucking mess. Shower and get your ass dressed because I’m not leaving until we’ve talked.”

I watch him stalk out of the bathroom, then close my eyes and let the cold water spill over me.

Talking won’t help. It won’t change what I did to JJ.

Using more strength than I have, I strip out of the wet suit and wash myself. My body goes through the actions while my mind’s haunted by screams and visions of JJ’s body jerking with every thrust.

When I drag my feet downstairs, I find Uncle Carl in the kitchen, frying bacon and eggs.

He shoots a glare in my direction. “When last did you eat?”

I shrug as I take a seat at the island, resting my forearms on the granite.

He points the spatula at me. “This shit stops now. Start talking.”

Bringing my hands up, I rub my palms over my face, letting out a sigh. “I’ve already told you.”

“Tell me again,” he orders as he shoves two slices of bread into the toaster.

The whiskey starts bubbling in my stomach, and I shake my head, unable to say the words out loud.

The kitchen suffers under the force of Uncle Carl’s anger, clanks and clatters filling the air. Minutes later, he shoves the plate in front of me, barking, “You’ll eat everything, or I’ll force-feed you.”

Picking up the utensils, my stomach rolls, but I force the food into my mouth, swallowing hard as if I’m forcing rocks down.

When the plate is empty, Uncle Carl leans back against the counter across from me, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks like Samual L. Jackson, about to beat the shit out of me as he orders, “Talk.”

“About what?” I mutter. “I did what I fucking did.”

“Tell me how you’re feeling,” he demands.

My emotions rocket through me, slamming against my conscience, plundering my heart, obliterating my soul. Losing my shit, I swipe my arm over the granite and send the plate crashing on the floor. My body darts up, my chest heaves, rage churning, and fucking churning. “I fucking raped the woman I love!” My eyes lock with my uncle’s. “I destroyed her.” My voice falters. “I failed her.”

Uncle Carl comes around the island and grabs me in a fatherly hug I don’t deserve. “You didn’t, Daniel. But you’re failing her now. If you talk to JJ, you can get through this.”

I shake my head hard, pulling out of his hold. “There’s no talking about it. I can’t face her.”

“You need to fucking man up and give that woman the closure she deserves.”

I know.

“I can’t.” Lowering my head like the coward I am, I say, “Destroying her… it’s killing me.” I somehow manage to lift my eyes to his. “I can’t look into her eyes and see the pain I’ve caused her. I can’t face what I’ve done to her.”

“You can, and you fucking will.” He steps into my space. “If you love that woman, you’ll face her. JJ’s strong, Daniel. Christ, you’re both in so much fucking pain. Clear the air so you can both move on.”

Move on to what? A life without JJ?

I’d rather die.

Chapter 23

JJ

I see Rama, but it doesn’t feel like him. Although it’s Rama’s face and body, it feels like O’Brien.

My eyes dart around the dark room, but I can’t find O’Brien.

“Look at me!”

My eyes snap back to the face in front of me. A vulture.

“Jesus!” I dart off the bed and come to a standstill in the middle of my bedroom, my hand already on my thundering heart. The remnants of the dream shudder through me, and I rush from the room in an attempt to outrun it.

Going to the living room window, like I’ve been doing most nights when I wake from a nightmare, I carefully nudge the curtains to the side and glance across the road.

He’s here.

Since I last saw O’Brien and he ignored me, I’ve caught him parked across the road multiple times.

It gives me hope.

It’s keeping me sane.

It’s comforting.

I now know he just needs time, and he’ll hopefully reach out to me when he’s ready.

The winter cold creeps around my feet and up my ankles, but I don’t care. I keep still, my eyes glued to the dark SUV. I get more rest this way because everything in me stills. The nightmares stop.