29
Emily
Imake sure Kevin is gone before I put a pill on a small plate. Such a tempting seductress. I stifle her with the bottom of a shot glass, grinding the glass into the plate until the pill becomes a light powder. I use a credit card to divide it into thin lines, feeling both guilt and excitement at the thought of this high again. It has been too long, dear friend.
I use a cut up straw and suck some of the lines into my nose. I sit back and feel the warm heaviness that I can’t get with anything else. Life seems more tolerable when I’m high. I get to be in the moment for a while. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes.
I feel nothing and everything at once. I replay David’s kiss in my head. I’ve wanted it since the day I met him, and yet I pushed him away. Why? Actually, I know why. I can’t be what he wants. Look at me.
I brush my hand along the skin of my imperfect stomach. I might have felt different had I not met the girl he’s seeing. She’s the type of girl he’s always been with: perfect. She is not me. I don’t know who I am anymore.
I place the plate in the sink. The door opens and Kevin walks in. Despite my pinpoint pupils, my high crashes at the sight of him. I look at him with equal parts hatred, guilt, and animosity. One thing I don’t see in him any longer is love. You don’t do these things to someone you love, even if you have PTSD. It’s an explanation, not an excuse.
I walk into the kitchen and he’s already in deep with a bottle of bourbon, talking to himself.
“Are you okay, Kevin?”
“Yeah, yeah, no. I’m fine. Do you even know what it’s like to know that they are all out there, but no one else seems to see them? They drive on the road, grabbing mail from the mailbox. They are mowing their fucking lawns. But I’m the crazy one? Yeah, okay.”
“Okay, Kevin. I see.”
“Don’t placate me, Emily. You’re just another person who can’t see them. That’s why you look at me the way you do. Do you think Roger is just a nice, friendly neighbor? No. He’s not even American! He’s one of them. That’s why he’s always coming around to ask if we’re okay. He’s just gathering intel on me. You can’t tell him anything, because then they’ll come for me.”
I hasten to our room and lock the door. He is a manic drunk. The sad thing is, his fear is very real for him. The way he stares at people through the blinds is obsessive. They’re always someone who wants to turn him into the government because he was discharged early. He considers himself a deserter, even though he was granted his discharge. I have to lock his gun away in a safe because he’s tried to go outside to say hello to people with a friendly neighborhood handgun greeting.
I unlock the bedroom door once I hear silence out in the kitchen. He’ll come crawling into bed at two a.m. like every other night. I lie down and let myself drift into a lovely narco sleep.
* * *
I wake to Kevin screaming.His eyes are open, but he isn’t looking at anything in particular. He stands up and squares off. I jolt upright. I’ve never seen him behave this way before.
“Kevin? Kevin, are you asleep?”
“You fucking killed Santos. And you expect us to just let you walk out of here? You put a bullet between his fucking eyes.”
My muscles tense and react before I am even aware of any danger.
“Kevin, wake up,” I plead with him, my voice shaky and unsure.
The fear seems to fuel his memory, pushing him deeper into the depths of his mind. He’s looking through me as an invisible scene plays out in front of him. My body is merely the vessel for confronting his memories.
“Oh, you’re scared? You want to go back to your family? Well, so did Santos! He had a newborn baby girl!”
Thank god he doesn’t have his gun.
He walks over to my side of the bed and jerks my head back by my hair. He nearly pulls me off the bed as he punches me in the stomach without hesitation. He can’t see me. He can’t hear my screams. He punches me in the face. Thankfully, it wasn’t a well-aimed hit, or it would have broken my eye socket. Instead, his fist slides along my cheek.
“Kevin, it’s me! It’s Emily! You have to stop!” I scream.
He stalks back to his side of the bed. I try to reach for my phone, but my hand searches along the surface of the nightstand, to no avail. I keep my eyes on him, watching his every move, trying to recognize the Kevin I have slept beside all this time. I’m trapped.
I ease to a standing position, cradling my stomach in one hand and my face in the other. I try to back toward the door. His eyes are locked on me, but he still doesn’t see me.
“Kevin, baby, please…”
Blood drips past my cheek. I’m almost to the door when he charges, slamming me into the wall behind us. I try to fight him off, but the strength that I once found so attractive is used against me. He pins me and lifts his fingers toward my neck. Those beautiful, strong hands I once held are now around my throat.
His skin is hot. He starts to squeeze. My breath is cut off as I claw at his arms until my face is on fire. My lungs plead for air. His eyes are deep and dark, and his pupils have dilated until I can’t discern his irises. He takes on a demonic look as those black, threatening portals expose his diseased soul.
“I won’t give you the satisfaction of a bullet!” he yells.
He squeezes harder. My vision is hazy and my peripherals are gone. Just when I begin to lose consciousness, I’m pulled back to the reality of my death. My hands wrap around his wrists.
My fading thoughts turn to David. Seeing his face in my mind brings me solace. I only wish I had let him make love to me. My hands drop to my sides. I’m done fighting. I’m letting go.
I love you, David. I’m sorry for what this is going to do to you. Please don’t forget me. If I had known this was my end, I would have done things differently...
Kevin’s eyes soften, and he blinks for the first time. He recoils as if someone hit him. I drop to the floor, gasping for air until my lungs are satiated. I still see darkness. My body trembles, almost like a seizure. Kevin is screaming my name.
His face comes into view, and I try to push away from him, but my body isn’t doing what I tell it to do. He stands up in a panic, grabs his jacket, and leaves.
I gather myself and walk to the bathroom. I turn on the light and gasp. My right eye is nearly swollen shut. I lift my shirt, and my stomach is already turning purple. I raise my chin and see the angry red fingerprints around my throat. I need to get out of here.
I get in my car, and I drive.
I don’t remember filing a report with the police. I only remember refusing to be taken to the hospital, unwilling to be in this nightmare any longer. By the time I pull into David’s parking lot, it’s almost four in the morning.
I knock, and David opens the door.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”
He steps aside and welcomes me in, yawning. He’s still half asleep.
“What’s wrong? You know you’re always welcome here.”
I step into the light of the living room and David’s mouth drops before tightening into a hard line.
“What the fuck happened?”
He reaches up and touches my face. I flinch.