Page 33 of Cueball & Double-Z (Alpha’s Rejects #5)

When I sat up, put my glass on the table, and placed my hands on my face, Cole and Gio ignored my boundary requests, clinging to me with all their strength as I let out a sob.

I hadn’t truly cried in years, holding it all back, not wanting to face the horror.

I’d already cried enough to last a lifetime.

Cole was rubbing my fucking head again, and Gio was rubbing my back. Neither said a word as they tried to comfort me.

I bent my knees and buried my head between them.

“Sometimes I wish I could erase him from my memories,” I rasp as soon as I calm down.

“Sometimes I wish he’d never existed. Despite so many good years together, that one moment made each good year more painful than the next.

Like, how can happy memories fucking hurt? ”

“It’s about missed memories. Memories lost. The ones you never got to share—the potential.

I feel the same way sometimes, and I’m sure Cole does, too,” Gio said.

“It’s hard for me to remember the good times when we’ve lost so much.

Remembering good times only brings you back to their deaths and all those moments you’ll never have again. ”

Cole rested his head on my shoulder and nodded before getting up and padding off somewhere. He soon returned with a roll of toilet paper since I didn’t have tissues around here.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, blowing my nose on a wad of paper.

This breaking… I wasn’t used to it at all.

It’d been so long. So very long. It wasn’t like I didn’t grieve.

I did. A fucking lot. But the self-loathing, the guilt…

it became too much. Eventually, I had to compartmentalize.

It wasn’t the healthiest, but because I didn’t trust myself, I stopped trusting other therapists.

If I could fail, so could they. And they did.

I failed Shane. They failed Shane. So, I never sought the help I so sorely needed.

Cole tapped my shoulder, and I reluctantly looked at him, his wide blue eyes red-rimmed, feeling my pain. Understanding my pain. My sweet empath.

‘That’s why you scratched your face in the picture. You hate yourself. Blame yourself,’ he signed.

I simply nodded. “I’m sorry I pushed you and Gio away for finding that out about me yesterday. You shouldn’t have had to suffer for my trauma.”

Gio rested a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “It’s fine. Cole and I understand. But honestly, if anyone understands what you’re going through, it’s us.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to finish if it hurts too much.”

Cole nodded in agreement.

“No, I need to get this out finally. I need to let Shane go, along with my self-loathing. I need to tell my story, and his. And I need to trust again to get therapy. I just can’t live like this anymore. It’s been seven years now.”

I lifted my glass and held it up close to my eyes, looking at it, debating on drinking some more.

“Your eyes look like bourbon,” Gio said, taking a small sip of his drink. “Even when I was pissed at you, I was obsessed with your eyes. ”

I glanced at him and quickly looked away, laughing softly as Cole also chuckled.

Then I frowned again, staring into my drink before taking another sip.

“I drank heavily after he died, wanting to bury my pain. Dull the senses. Honestly, it only made me feel worse, especially after the hangovers. Eventually, I quit, getting my shit together. This is my first drink since then. It’s been four years. And it will be my last after tonight.”

With a sigh, I chugged back the rest, promising myself not to refill it. I set the glass down for good. “Where was I? Oh, yes… blood. All the blood. Why did he choose such a gruesome way… There are more peaceful ways to go.”

When I pull back the shower curtain, I think I’m prepared for what I see, but I’m not. No one will ever be ready to see such a thing.

So much fucking blood.

He’s stretched out naked in the tub, slumped over on his side, his head resting against the tiles. The white tub is bright red, and Shane is covered in it.

A sob escapes me as I fall to my knees on the hard floor before reaching out with a shaking hand and checking for a pulse. There is none. “Why, baby… Why?”

The guilt burns from the inside out. I’m on fire with it.

All those typical self-blaming phrases consume me.

I should’ve been here. I should’ve seen his pain.

How had I not known? Why didn’t I make sure he was properly taken care of?

Why didn’t I push him more to make sure he was okay?

If I’d been here, I could’ve stopped it.

Told him he was loved, and I’d make it all better.

But I wasn’t there. No words would’ve fixed his pain.

My ego won’t let it go, though. Soon, my ego turns into my worst enemy.

It filters through every cell of my being.

I know I shouldn’t move him, but I have to.

I have to hold him one last time. He’s so heavy and slick, making it hard to get him out of the tub.

When I do, he falls into me as if he’s trying to hold me.

To tell me it’s all going to be okay. But it won’t.

It will never be okay again. Shane’s my life.

My everything. My person, who was put on this earth just for me.

He spent nine years with me, lifting me up, pushing me to keep going when things got hard. All I did was fucking fail him.

I pull him into me tighter and kiss his head, uncaring that I’m now covered in his blood.

My body is shaking, and I can’t stop crying.

I should call an ambulance and the police, but I can’t.

I need more time with him. Just a little more time.

To hold him one last time. Once they take him away, I’ll never get to touch him again.

I hold him close, rocking back and forth, as I sob.

I can’t stop. All those happy memories are replaced by death.

Our future is replaced with blood. Those promises we made to each other are snuffed out.

We were supposed to get married. I’d asked him right before I took my final examination.

We were supposed to have kids. Shane wanted three.

We often drove around Baltimore and the surrounding suburbs to find our dream home.

We made fucking plans, dammit! Plans that did not fucking include death!

“Why, baby? God, don’t leave me here alone without you. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.”

I lift his left hand and look at his fingers. The ring that I gave him is still there. I check out his cuts. So many. Even if I could’ve gotten here earlier, he cut himself so much that he’d bled out quickly.

I wiggle the ring off and put it on my finger, just so no one takes it. However, I’ll never wear it after this. I just can’t.

Time’s lost to me. It has no more meaning. I don’t know how long I sit there holding him, lost in my grief, pain, and self-loathing. It’d been my fault. All of it. It wasn’t Shane’s fault. He couldn’t help it. I should have seen it. Seen through his pretend smiles and happiness.

I can’t sit like that, holding him forever. Eventually, and with great reluctance, I ease him onto the floor and stand. He looks more like a body than my Shane now.

I wash my hands, pull out my phone, and dial 9-1-1. When they answer, I tell them what happened and where I live. As I wait for EMS to arrive, I sit on the floor and hold Shane’s now-cold hand. No, this was no longer my Shane. My beautifully sweet and vibrant Shane.

My life as I know it is over. I’ll never recover from this. Not just from my grief, but I know deep down I’ll never forgive myself.

I sat up, wrapped my arms around my raised legs, ducked my head between my knees again, and cried. My eyes fucking burned, and my body shook. “Even though I grieved years ago, I couldn’t get past the self-hatred, self-blame, and guilt. It kept my loss visceral, unable to move on.”

“Fuck, Marco,” Gio breathed, pressing a kiss to my head. It was so unlike him. But perhaps it was. The old him. The one I’d yet to meet. “This feels so like déjà vu with Cole. How you two just hated yourself afterward.”

Hands were rubbing, touching, soothing all over my head and back.

Gio and Cole were trying to calm me and show me I wasn’t alone.

I’d never been truly alone in the sense that there were always people who cared about me.

It was I who’d shut everyone out. Maybe that made me selfish to those who needed me, but for so long, I didn’t want to be needed by anyone because I’d just fail them, too.

“There was a funeral. His family was there, but I couldn’t face them. Face their questions. Admit my failure. They lost a son because of me. My family tried to console me and support me, but I didn’t want it. Deserve it. All I wanted was to be left fucking alone.”

Cole pressed his body against me. Gio had his forehead resting against my head. Four arms encircled me, comforting and protecting. I thought it would make things worse, but it didn’t. I felt understood.

“This is the first time I’ve let anyone hold me like this.

Not since then. Not since him. I pushed everyone fucking away from me.

I rejected my friends, family, career...

Why wouldn’t I? I’d just fucking fail them, too.

There was no way I could take another loss of those I love. I’m not strong enough.”

Cole and Gio sat in silence, listening and supporting me without interrupting with platitudes or pity and without suffocating me in condolences.

Fucking condolences. Condolences were offered by people who didn’t know what else to say.

Condolences or thoughts and prayers didn’t bring back the dead or fix things.

I didn’t care how people felt about it or didn’t.

It didn’t fix my pain and loss. I couldn’t tell you how grateful I was to Cole and Gio at that moment. They said so much in their silence.