I psych up myself the entire ride home. I’m going over to his house to talk to him. I’m going to do it. But when I get there his car is gone and I deflate, slumping back in my seat. I need to talk to him. And I will. As soon as I see him come home, I’m going to storm over there and demand he speak to me.
That’s what I tell myself, until I’m laying in bed and finally hear his car rumble down the street. I jump out of bed, trying to get a glimpse of him walking inside, but he must’ve moved quickly because by the time I get to the window his door is already shutting.
I watch his bedroom window, the same window the blinds are drawn over, exactly as they have been ever since I got back. The light never even turns on, and as I sit on my bed hugging my knees to my chest, I watch and wait for any sign of him.
But it never comes.
When I leave for work the next morning, Wes’s car is still parked in his driveway. When I come home it’s still there. I sit in my car debating on going over there, but I’m back to not knowing what to say. Everything I prepared last night is now gone so instead of storming over to his house, I go inside.
I let Sadie outside, and look over at the house that’s almost identical to mine, waiting to see any sign of him or his dog, but there’s nothing. My concern only grows, which is probably why I end up sitting outside for a lot longer than I intend, just waiting. Eventually, I convince myself that maybe he’s just sleeping or taking Bruno on a walk. The chill from the air starts to seep into my bones, so Sadie and I go inside.
Another day passes without any sign of Wes and my worry is back tenfold. I didn’t hear his car leave last night, which I wasweirdly anticipating. As I come home from work again, seeing his car unmoved, something feels wrong. I try to shake it off, but when I let Sadie outside and look over to his house, I can’t get the worry to dissipate.
The backdoor looks like it’s open, and that’s what does it for me. Something is wrong. I race inside, Sadie following me closely. “I’ll be back,” I tell her as I’m rushing out the front door and over to Wes’s house.
I try to open his front door, only to find that it’s locked. I glance around at our empty street, making sure no one is watching me as I go around the side of the house, through the gate into the backyard.
When I step through the open sliding glass door, the house is cold and dark. My heart races, afraid of what I’m walking into. Gently, I call out his name, not wanting to scare or sneak up on him.
He doesn’t answer, and I walk deeper inside, and my heart completely bottoms out at what I see. Wes is here, sitting on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol while Bruno lays by him, concerned.
“Wes?” I call softly, tears already welling in my eyes.
He looks up at me, completely broken and I shatter along with him.
CHAPTER 46
Wes
My entire adultlife has been a constant spiral of shit upon shit and then more shit. I had a brief glimpse of happiness when I was with Bailey, but she’s gone. I know she won’t come back, and I don’t even know if I want her to. I’m not worthy enough to have someone as perfect as her in my life. She deserves better. She deserves someone who can bring her joy instead of bringing her down into the depths of hell I’m currently living amidst.
After the phone call with Chris’s ex-wife, I feel like I lost sight of anything good in my life. My worthless, meaningless life. The flashbacks have been almost constant and I don’t know when the last time I slept without the assistance of alcohol was. I tried to pretend to be okay, but I’m not.
I’ve never been okay.
I never will be.
It was a normal day. Inspections were normal, we woke up andate breakfast and fucked around like we normally did before we were supposed to head out for the day.
As soon as the first explosion sounded, everything changed forever. I knew people were caught in it, and I wanted to help. The pain in my leg from the impact of flying metal seared into me, stopping me from being able to help. I just wanted to help save my friends—my brothers—even if it killed me.
But all I could do was lay there waiting to die. When the darkness took over, I thought maybe I had.
Until I woke up in the hospital, knowing my life changed forever. Not only did I lose friends, I lost the one thing that made me who I was. My job was my identity and that was gone along with the lives of others.
I finish another bottle, slamming it down, and see Bruno laying on the floor next to me, concerned wide eyes pinned on me. This is what I didn’t want for him. He could’ve had a better life. I look toward the open back door for him. I’m facing it because I want to see any threat that could come in. Not that I could do anything about it.
Not that I would even want to.
Someone else could end my misery. Remove me from this Earth and take away the pain I’ve carried with me for so long, and I would be relieved. I could do it myself, I could do what others I know have done. Make it quick and painless. End it all. End the suffering and the madness.
I just want it to stop.
The memories, the sounds, the thoughts, the feelings.
Life.
I try to reach for another bottle, but it feels out of reach. Everything is fuzzy, and I don’t know if it’s from the amount of alcohol in my system or the lack of sleep. Or maybe, this is what dying slowly feels like.
