More Than Friends Page 10
“I told you, Chloe. I fuckin’ told you! You’re mine!” he seethes and points his finger in my face. Unfortunately, this isn’t my first rodeo and I know how this will play out. If I don’t fight back, his anger will recede quickly, and he’ll realize the mistake he’s making.
“Who’s the prick from the bar last night?” he screams in my face.
“N-No one,” I stutter, frantically trying to quell his rising anger.
I’m finally able to move one foot behind the other and back away from him slowly, as if he’s a wild animal about to attack. Tiny needles prick my scalp as his hand fists into my hair. He gives a hard yank and I fall.
The entire right side of my body breaks out in pure agony from my harsh landing. I try to roll over but the room starts spinning. Another fierce yank on my scalp and I’m sliding down the hallway toward my room. “No, Todd! STOP! PLEASE!” I scream. I kick. I beg.
The pain in my scalp intensifies as he drags me to my feet. “Stand the fuck up!” he screams. I try, I really do, but my body isn’t cooperating. Pain rips through my stomach and all the oxygen leaves my lungs as my body registers his large fist hammering into me.
For a moment, my body feels light and airborne, but then I’m sliding down the wall and end up in a crumpled heap on the floor, crying.
Everything moves in slow motion. Todd’s foot hovers above me and I curl into a ball, a feeble attempt to protect myself from the giant steel-toed boot that’s hurtling toward my stomach. I’m too slow and it’s too late. The boot finds its mark and the sound of bones breaking fills the hallway. Pain slices through my side and a scream tears from my throat.
“Shut the fuck up!” he yells, and a fist flies toward my face. I see it coming but am powerless to stop it. More crunching bones and a river pours from my nose.
The black spots that have been threatening to cloud my vision are growing bigger and bigger with every passing second. I beg and pray for the darkness to hurry up and take the pain away.
Todd settles a heavy thigh on each side of my body. Straddling my stomach and ribs, his weight holds me down and causes me even more agony.
His hot breath hits my face. “Quit your fucking crying! None of this would have happened if you would keep your fucking legs closed! You’re a fucking whore.” His voice is muffled and it sounds like he’s talking to me through a wall.
“You’re mine! Always have been and always will be! Do you think I like doing this? You make me do it! You act like a fucking slut. Make out with guys in front of me. Are you fucking kidding me? You think I didn’t see you running with him this morning? That I didn’t see him come into your apartment last night? DO YOU THINK I’M FUCKING STUPID?”
He takes a breath and continues, “I know exactly what’s going on. I’ve waited two fuckin’ years for you to come around! I’ve given you space like that fucking idiot Tom said to. The roses I sent you. All the voicemails I had to leave. None of that meant a fucking thing to you, did it? Things could have been different for us. I could have made you happy.”
A large hand slaps me across my right cheek, making my ears ring. It would have hurt if I weren’t already in so much pain.
Todd starts yelling again. “I tried to talk to you last night at the bar, but instead, I had to watch you and that fucking asshole all over each other. Where the fuck is he, huh? I got something for his ass, too!” As he says this, he raises the bottom of his shirt.
A small pistol is tucked into the waist of his jeans. My heart goes into overdrive. Skye is the one good thing I have going at the moment. I can’t let him get wrapped up in my mess. I knew I should have kept him at a distance.
“N-No, he’s n-no one. Y-You don’t have to do this.” I gasp for air. My chest is tight and I have to force air into my lungs, but it’s still not enough. “Let me up.” Gasp. “We can work this out!” I beg.
“You think I’m fucking stupid? Don’t fucking lie to me, you stupid bitch!” Another slap. My head starts bouncing off the floor over and over and over again. Everything hurts; everything feels broken and bruised. I try to block out Todd and the awful things he’s doing and saying. I try to conjure up memories of Skye and myself. Any happy memory I can think of.
My body is beginning to feel numb as I think about us singing on stage tonight. Like one of those old-time movie reels, the images of Skye and me flash through my mind. My lips turn up on the corners.
“What the fuck are you smiling at, bitch? You think this shit is funny?” He’s killing me and I’m smiling. I can feel the heavy darkness creeping in and I don’t try to fight it this time. I want it to take over so that I won’t have to feel the pain anymore.
My eyes are growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. Right before everything goes completely dark, I hear someone calling my name. Their voice is full of panic and desperation.
My head is no longer bouncing off the cold, hardwood floor and I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off of me. I try to tell whoever is calling my name to let me go. We’ll all be better off this way. That I will be okay and to get as far away from Todd as possible, but the words won’t go past my lips.
Whoever is screaming my name sounds so far away. I can feel someone cradling me, stroking my face, and begging me to wake me up, but I don’t want to. My entire life has been filled with nothing but heartache and pain; a constant struggle to stay above water. I have nothing left to give so I welcome the shadows.
Eventually, the voice is gone and I’m floating in the darkness I prayed so hard to find.
Standing in front of the ICU doors at exactly seven forty-five every morning has become my daily ritual since Chloe was admitted to the hospital. It’s not a long commute considering I’ve been camped out in the waiting room outside of the ICU for a week now.
“Good morning, Skye.” I smile, and turn to the now familiar voice of Sally, Chloe’s nurse. Throughout the time that Chloe has been admitted to the ICU Sally has taken Chloe on as her personal project. She comes in early, leaves late every day with a smile on her face, and makes sure that Sara and I have everything we could ever need or want while we visit. Sally is one of those people who truly loves her jobs and genuinely cares about her patients. People like her truly make a difference in situations like this.
“Morning, Sally. Can I sneak in early this morning?” I give her a hopeful, wide, pleading eyed look paired with my most charming smile, hoping to persuade her into conceding to my request. I can see the moment she cracks and I want to fist pump in victory but refrain.
“Come on, but don’t you go telling anyone, ya hear?” She looks at me like you would a small child that asked for a cookie with one of those cute as hell faces you can’t say no to. I wrap my arms around the sweet, plump woman’s neck and hug her tight. Before she can pull away, I give her a chaste kiss on her cheek.
Sally swats my arm and pulls free, but I see her porcelain skin has turned a light red color, evidence of her blushing. She mutters, “heathen,” in a playful tone over her shoulder as she walks off.
I go over to the only chair in the room and sit. It’s been a week since Chloe’s attack and she still hasn’t woken up. I feel guilty for being mildly relieved that she hasn’t opened those beautiful green eyes and returned to me. Don’t get me wrong, I want her awake and to have her in my arms more than anything, I just don’t want her to have to relive the memories of the attack, and I’m positive she’s going to be devastated when she remembers what happened. Sure, she is strong and stubborn as hell, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be able to handle this. Regardless of her reaction, I’m going to remain at her side through it all.
The doctors placed Chloe in a medically induced coma due to the operation she had to undergo to relieve the swelling and bleeding on her brain. As if that wasn’t enough, she suffered three broken ribs, a broken nose, and so many bruises that it would easier to tell you what’s not bruised rather than what is.
Chloe has no next of kin, but thankfully, Sara is listed as her
emergency contact. I’m not sure when Chloe would have done that. The thought of her being in this place anytime in her life, with or without me, is disconcerting.
Saying that I was frustrated every time I had to leave the room so the doctor could give Sara an update would be a big fucking understatement. I never want to leave Chloe’s side again, in or out of this hospital.
Sara and I have become very close after sitting in the hospital together day in and day out, and she shares with me whatever information the doctors and nurses give her. Getting closer to Sara was never really my intention but it has been pleasant. The girl is a damn fool; she’s like one of the guys and embraces it.
Sitting back in the most uncomfortable chair in the world, I close my eyes and listen to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. I haven’t slept much since Chloe was admitted, and the exhaustion is starting to fuck with me. Every time I close my eyes, my mind replays the scene that I walked into almost a week ago exactly.
Chloe and Tom had an argument and she had left BAR. When I finally noticed her absence, I ran full-speed all the way to her apartment. The door was slightly cracked when I arrived and I heard someone whimpering. The same moment I heard a man’s seething voice growl out, “what the fuck are you smiling at, bitch? You think this shit is funny?” I rushed in. Todd was hovering over Chloe’s motionless body, repeatedly slamming her head into the floor. I pulled him off of her and beat the shit out of him until the cops arrived. Everything else is a blur. The parts I remember are either very small glimpses, or something someone told me and it causes a memory to resurface.
The mind has a way of protecting you by pushing things you may not be able to handle to the back of your mind, allowing you to forget and move forward with your life. As time passes, you may be lucky enough to find something in your everyday events to trigger those memories. For me, I hope that never happens because the anger that currently boils in my veins is almost unbearable. If I were to have a recollection of every second I walked into the apartment, I don’t know if I would be able to control the rage.
Squeezing my eyes tighter, I take in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm the anger wreaking havoc on my insides. I’m not sure how much longer I can be the cool and collective Skye Chloe needs me to be. The urge to punch something grows stronger and stronger every time I walk into this room.
Giving into that temptation wouldn’t be smart, though. Sally would most likely kick me out for good. Plus, I still have the stitches in my right hand to prove that walls are very unforgiving.
After finding Todd on top of Chloe like that, I lost my mind. I tore him off her, and pounded him with my fists until he was unconscious. An officer finally pulled me off of him, and I was placed in handcuffs and hauled off to jail.
I was released a couple of hours later, and the bullshit assault charges were dropped. Brady picked me up from the police station and we hauled ass to the hospital. We more than likely broke several traffic laws to get there, but at that point, I didn’t give a shit. I just needed to get to Chloe.
On our way there, Brady told me that one of Chloe’s neighbors heard the commotion and called the cops before I got there. It’s a good thing she did, because I would’ve probably killed the son-of-a-bitch if they hadn’t shown up.
Sara and Tom were waiting for us in a small OR waiting area that reeked of cheap, stale coffee. Sara threw herself in my arms, sobbing loudly and thanking me for getting there when I did. That immediately sent my heart rate through the roof. My fists clenched tightly and my teeth ground together painfully in a feeble attempt to rein in my anger.
Sara spent the next few minutes getting me up to date on everything. Having yet to hear anything on Todd’s condition, I asked.
Tom said, “He left over an hour ago. You beat him pretty badly. His face was really swollen and purple, but nothing that’s permanent or won’t heal in time. They took him straight to jail when he was discharged. He’ll wait there until someone bails him out or until his trial.”
Rage boiled through my veins. It should have been Todd in surgery fighting for his life. I needed a minute to myself, so I walked to the bathroom and locked the door.
The urge to hit something was so strong I couldn’t deny it any longer. Throwing a few punches at the wall wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but it helped release some of my rage. After busting my hand all to hell, I slid down to the floor, sending a silent prayer to God that Chloe would pull through this and be all right.
The longer I sat on the floor, the more my hand started to throb. Gathering myself, I got up and cleaned the blood from my hand. I tore a piece of fabric from the hem of my shirt and wrapped it around my hand to try to stop the bleeding.
When I returned to the waiting room, the all-knowing Sara glanced down, noticed my hand and the makeshift bandage, and forced me to go the ER. I tried to argue that I wasn’t leaving and was okay, but she ended up escorting me to the emergency room herself. God, I felt like a prick. Chloe needed Sara, and here I was, throwing punches at a brick wall like a fuckin’ out-of-control teenager.
Luckily, the ER was quick, which was a damn miracle in itself. My hand was busted all to shit, but there were no breaks. I just needed a few stitches. The whole ordeal only took a little over an hour and I was relieved when we were able to return to the waiting room. Chloe was still in recovery when we got back.
And here I sit a week later in this god-awful recliner. I reach for my guitar that’s propped against the wall and begin strumming it absent-mindedly. The doctor and nurses insist she can hear us, so I play and talk to her constantly. Two days ago I finished a song that I wrote for her. I start singing the opening lines to Chloe’s song.
I should have told you how I feel
Too much time has passed, but it’s still real
Come back to me so that I can make it right
Come back to me so that I can hold you tight
I hid in the shadow
Till the time was right
You finally found me
And pulled me into the light
I’m lost in the song when Chloe’s heart monitor suddenly starts going crazy. I reach for the call button, ready to call in the nurse, but her heart rate slows to its normal pace the moment I have the little red button in my hand.
I silently berate myself. Calm down, Skye. She’s in the ICU. They have her hooked up to all kinds of shit. Sally would already be in here if it were serious.
The door to Chloe’s room opens and I expect to see Sally rush in, but Sara enters instead. It’s hard to remember that I’m not the only one affected by all of this and, judging by Sara’s appearance, she’s taking it the hardest. The sparks that usually light up her big, brown eyes are absent. Her attitude is no longer fiery and quick-witted. Instead she is sullen and lost in her own thoughts most of the time.
She goes to Chloe’s bed and looks her over for a moment. I know she’s looking for any change. I do the same thing every time I walk into this room. She looks at me with glassy eyes and asks, “How has she been this morning?” My heart breaks for her.
“There’s no change, but I guess that’s a good thing, considering,” I tell her.
“Has the doctor been in yet?” she asks, her voice shaky and her eyes moving back to Chloe.
“I don’t know. I just got here a few minutes ago. Someone should be in soon, though.” I prop my guitar back against the wall and lean forward, resting my head in my hands.
She begins talking to Chloe and I know I should give her some privacy, but I can’t. Hell, the nurses have to run me off when visiting hours are over. I just can’t bring myself to go any further than the waiting room down the hall. I want to be close in case she wakes up or something happens.
“I’m going to find a doctor or a nurse,” Sara says while standing up. When the door clicks shut, I look up and take in Chloe’s appearance. Despite the greasy hair, cuts, bruises, and scratches, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I get to my feet and go to si
t on the edge of her bed.
I kiss her temple and stroke the side of her face. Quietly, I whisper words of encouragement, assuring her that we’re all here for her, and assure her that I’m not going anywhere. I beg her to come back to me, lacing my words with as much conviction as possible. I softly stroke the side of her face and hair for a few minutes, and then kiss her temple. Softly, I sing the lyrics to Michael Jackson’s “I Just Can't Stop Loving You.”
I’m on the verge of tears by the end of the song. Knowing that there’s not much more I can do or say at the moment, I sit back in the chair and grab my guitar. I sing the words to “Easy To Love You” by Theory of a Deadman. This song is everything I feel for Chloe. I love this woman. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone in my life. Losing her would be the end of me. The thought of losing her is devastating, and it’s something I’m not prepared to deal with. I just got her back in my life, there’s no way in hell I’m going to allow someone to take her from me now.
I feel a charge of energy course through my body as the truth of the chorus slams into me. Tears burn my eyes and my voice strains. It takes everything I have to make it through the rest of the song. My emotions are all over the place but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is making sure Chloe knows I love her with everything I am.
I need her to know that no matter what, I am here and don’t intend to leave. She needs to know that I’m willing to sacrifice anything and everything for her happiness. I want to protect her, and cherish her for as long as she will have me.
I sit in the recliner for a while, watching the screen on the heart monitor, the little red lines spike up and down in a similar pattern. The longer I watch, the bigger the spikes get. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking, or if she’s possibly dreaming. I may be fooling myself, but I like to think that it’s me causing those little spikes on the screen. That I’m the person that fills her thoughts and fantasies.