Page 37

We are running out of ice behind the bar, and I offer to grab it. Anything to get away from Creeks scrutinization and the repulsion his brothers cast my way.

We have hardly spoken in two weeks, and it feels like I'm dying. Anya says I'm dramatic, but come on man... I finally found something that was all mine and lifted me to the moon on raw happiness, and it was ripped away from me like a band-aid.

No explanation was needed. Since Creek told me space was necessary, his brothers have practically been on top of me. It once hurt to have Creeks scorn, but now I face the wrath of them all. I don't even know why I'm still here.

Because you promised.

I did. But who’s supposed to protect me? B wouldn’t wish this on me. He’d forgive me if I cut my losses and split.

No. It isn’t that. It's Creek who chains me here. I'm a prisoner for his love and a victim of his uncertainty.

When I finish scooping the ice I reluctantly head back to the bar.

I can't help it when my eyes sneak a peek at the object of my heart but stop in my tracks at what I see when I do.

My eyes double in size when I take in the two gold acolytes conversing with Creek.

I don't think as I drop the ice buckets and head in that direction immediately.

Those fuckers are evil incarnate and wouldn’t hesitate before slitting my flowers throat, witnesses be damned.

I'll fucking destroy them for daring to look at what's mine.

The closer I get, I see a mix of emotions come and go over Creeks features, until he’s practically lifeless.

His once transparent features that I worshiped wiped away and replaced with that of nothing.

Flustering, I increase my pace in case he’s been harmed, but freeze when the last of the people that separated us drift away into nothingness.

The world around me blurs.

I'm reminded of when I walked into that conference room back at the compound-only to see my baby sister and lifeline on her knees for a monster.

The world blurred then too.

Nothing but motions in my periphery.

Irrelevant because the center of sight deserves my full attention.

Creek isn’t harmed in any way. It seems the only person to be damaged tonight is me.

Confused, I stand stock still as I take in the gun pointed directly at me.

By my flower no less.

I'm unable to think let alone mask the agony I'm feeling right now.

I'm frozen.

A nightmare made over.

I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

How fucked up is that? For so long now I've tortured myself with thoughts of ‘what if’s’ from when Cami was taken from me.

What if I told her to stay in that day. What if I had noticed she wasn’t home when I got there and immediately starting questioning it. What if I walked into that conference room AND DIDN’T FUCKING FREEZE!

Useless.

I'm so goddamn useful when it doesn't count and useless when it does.

And apparently disposable.

My physical form doesn't so much as twitch a muscle, but I'm raging on the inside.

I'm back in that bright padded room, kicking, punching, and scratching at the walls, yelling for anyone to kill me, but this time I just want to be heard.

My gaze lifts from the weapon in my flowers hand to the strangers eyes staring back at me.

The last string I harbored that tethered me to this fucked up universe burns, and another part of my battered soul dies.

“Creek.”

My voice cracks, with the only words my lips are capable of forming.

I feel it a second before I hear it. A burn worse than my old collar sets fire to my chest after I'm blown off my feet.

Unfiltered agony rips through me. It's already difficult to breathe. Wetness pools on my neck and spills down. Blood. So much by the feel of it.

Screams impale my ears, an addition to my suffering. Shoes pound on the ground as people fight to get out of the building.

Forgotten.

I think I'm in shock. I still can't move or speak, but on the inside I'm laughing at myself. My own thoughts torture me with nasty words on account of my stupidity.

Nobody could ever love you.

Your own mother didn’t love you.

You deserve this.

Useless.

Cami only stayed because she had to.

Blithe merely tolerated you out of loneliness.

You are nothing.

Dying.

I'm dying.

I read once that the body loses it's oxygen when it loses it's blood, and I'm fucking bathing in it.

Everything the universe has put me through, all the trials, tribulations, and wrath I’ve been subjected to were nothing compared to this.

What the fuck did I do wrong? I think to myself.

I try to dive back into the past and skim through a time in my childhood when I was unworthy, an outsider, someone who was doomed to never be loved, but I come up blank.

The moment I was pushed into this world and drew air into my tiny lungs I was destined for this.

For hurt.

For humiliation.

To be looked down upon and spat on by the ones who are supposed to cherish and nourish me.

Vision blurring, Creek stands above me now.

His resentment has overpowered his whole demeanor, the whole room, the entire world, and it feels as if he housed nuclear lunch codes that destroyed the ground I walk on.

I don’t let my feelings betray me in this moment.

The monsters who hunt me aren’t privy to my private affairs or emotions.

In this moment the sun has stopped shining on Creeks roots.

The water has dried, the color of his petals have dimmed.

In this moment my flower is dead, and all that stands in its place is a monster.

The monsters I once treaded carefully around.

The monsters who wish for me to be seen instead of heard.

The type of monsters who burned me so bad I thought I’d never crawl from the ashes to be reborn again.

In this moment I look at a monster, that I promised myself I would never let stand against me in this way again.

I look at a monster that would normally make mine rear its ugly head and slaughter him.

But instead of contempt and furious rages of bloodshed, my devil whimpers internally and screams at ME for fucking up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Logically I know it isn’t my fault and I should not be punished so I close my eyes.

In this moment I don't look.

Nobody can take pieces of me anymore.

Especially not a monster.

“Take him!”

I think I hear someone yell before I'm yanked this way and that. My chest is in flames and my lungs scream at me.

Attempting to open my eyes again is useless work. My breathing is shallow, I'm barely here.

“What the fuck, get off of him!”

If I could speak, I’d tell everyone to shut the fuck up.

More gunshots. Each one sends a new wave of pain through my throbbing head, enhancing my pounding chest.

My breaths stall when I'm yanked once more, rougher this time.

“Stay with me Har, you’re gonna be okay.”

But I don't want to stay. I see a pretty light and a hopeful sensation nags at my very being, so I go.

The Way We Heal