“Okay.”
Bobby raises a brow at me.
“I will.”
***
The next couple of nights consisted of Cady and I watching movies while Bobby and Erick went to work. It was quiet at first, but eventually, Cady started pulling words from me. I knew that in order for things to go back to normal, I had to act like things were normal. Maybe if I forced myself to do the things I used to do, then it would be easier to slip back into my role. It would help everyone around me feel at ease and get back to their day-to-day lives. Cady needed that more than anyone else.
To give her the reassurance I’d be okay, and to help her heal from the horror she had seen, I laid my head in her lap while we watched movies. She stroked my hair, and we talked about meaningless stuff to keep my mind occupied. It was actually kind of comforting, and I realized what started out as pretendingwasmy new life. This is who I am now. Well, for the time being anyway.
I was able to prove to Cady that I would be fine, and that she could go back to work as well. She didn’t like the idea, but Roger is swamped and pulling more hours than I usually work. The man is going to keel over and die if he keeps it up. Having Cady back would lessen the workload, and she could get some actual hours while I’m out. This got me wondering just how long I would be out of commission.
Work has always been a place I can push aside all of my worries and focus onthe task at hand. No matter what was happening in my life, it took a backseat when I walked through that door. I enjoy my job, but now I wonder what the reaction will be when I go back. I’ve got two weeks paid vacation, and I’ve already used one this past week. There’s no way I can go without a paycheck. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.
I stare at the bruises on my face, the purple now ringed in a sickly greenish-yellow that I can only describe as vomit colored. They will still be there after next week, except they will all be that nasty color with purple polka dots. I can’t hide what happened to me forever. It’s already been all over the front page of our paper and Swanson’s. I haven’t heard much about any others, but with Phil’s family status, I wouldn’t put it past them to report on this and have an alert out for Phil.
Luckily, the cops question anyone who approaches my apartment, and have kept many reporters from knocking on my door. That hasn’t stopped the phone calls. Reporters found my cellphone number and have been blowing it up. They aren’t much different than druggies, always scouring for the next big thing—the next top story to catapult their career. They’re all story whores, and words are their drug of choice. They’re not getting their next fix from me.
I listen to the shower start and go into the living room for some peaceful TV time. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I turn it to the news. Same old shit, different day. At least until they get to the local segment. A picture of Phil is plastered on the screen, and my body stiffens. His dead eyes drill into mine, and his words echo in mind.“Hold onto those tears, lover. Theymay save you later.”
Terror and fury almost pull me in two. I’ve never felt such conflicting emotions battle to overtake me. The sudden urge to hide, so he can’t see me, and throw the remote at his face to shatter the image on the screen, has me panicking over what to do. The reporter solves it for me when she reappears and moves on to the next segment.
“In other local news, the new drug called Snap has taken yet another victim. Nineteen-year-old Mariah Davids died yesterday at St. Paul’s Hospital. She had been on life support for the past week after an apparent overdose. Mariah’s parents had this to say about her passing.”
The screen switches to Mariah’s shocked, red-eyed parents. Precious little Gabby sits in the lap of her grandmother, holding onto her fingers. “Mariah never used drugs before. She was always happy and smiling. We noticed a couple of weeks before she…” Her mother lets out a small sob and stutters over her next few words. “… she overdosed, that she was changing. Mariah was agitated, hardly smiled, seemed sickly and withdrawn. I was worried about her and asked her what was going on. She told me nothing. The next thing we know, she’s gone. We barely had warning signs. She had her whole life ahead of her, and her daughter will never know the incredible mother she had.” The woman starts crying and wiping at her nose with a tissue.
“It’s horrible. We don’t know what to do,” her father says. “The only hope I have is that my daughter didn’t die in vain. That her death will save others frommaking the same mistake. That people know the warning signs and can get their loved ones the help they need. We’ve set up a fund—”
The screen goes black as I clutch the remote. Gabby will never know how much her mother loved her. She will never get to hear her mother sing to her, read her stories, or tell her about how she was the result of how in love with Jimmy she was. That little girl will never get to see her mommy and daddy together, the googly eyes they made at each other, or the pride that shined in their smiles when they stared at her face. My heart breaks for her and all the things she will never experience. They will only be stories that will make her ache for the real thing.
Mariah will never be able to explain to her daughter why she chose to put a drug before her. Gabby will either grow up wondering if she was the reason her mother started using drugs, or why she wasn’t a good enough reason to keep her mother from using them. In the end, Gabby will either hate drugs or turn to them to numb her pain.
The anger I felt earlier returns with a vengeance. This is all Phil’s fault. Every fucking bit of this. If he hadn’t brought that shit here, none of this would’ve ever fucking happened. The remote shatters against the wall, causing shards to fling out over the floor. My face heats as air huffs in and out of my lungs. I’ve never felt such hatred as I do now. It’s almost out of control. If that monster ever shows his face in this town again, I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll rip him from end to end and make him feel the pain and suffering he has caused everyone around him. Phil doesn’t deserve a quick death. He deserves what he’s done to everyone else and more.
“Hazel?”
I turn to Cady, standing next to the couch dressed in her work uniform. She stares at what was once the remote, and her gaze travels up to the dent in the wall.
“Mariah … she died yesterday.”
Cady sinks onto the couch, digesting the news. I see it the moment it crosses her face. This could have been her. She turns to me as she fights back the tears and takes my hand.
“Promise me you won’t use that shit again. Promise me.”
Her grip on my hand tightens. “Promise.”
***
After a week of being surrounded by people, the house is finally empty. I lay on the couch pissed off at myself for smashing the remote earlier. Those damn pieces of plastic taunt me from the floor. I push myself off the couch to clean the mess, so I don’t have to see it anymore. In agitation and a bit of pain, I bend over collecting all I can find. The vacuum can find the others later. Dropping them in the trash, I see an unopened bottle of wine on the counter. I pop it open and pour myself a glass before easing myself back down on the couch.
Cady started to change her mind about going to work, thinking she should stay here with me. I all but pushed her out the door. If I were working tonight,short three people, I would probably lose my damn mind. At least with Cady there, they are only missing Jimmy and me. The new people should be able to keep up by now. I watched through the window as she stopped at the police cruiser and talked with the officer, possibly letting him know that I was alone for the first time, and to keep a closer watch on me. For a second, I thought he might get out and come in. There was no way in hell I was going to play injured hostess to a cop. Most likely, he would just stare at me the entire time and ask me questions about what happened.
I zone out on the TV, not paying attention to the reruns playing. It’s just background noise to keep my nerves settled. I hate complete silence. The unexplained noises make me jumpy, and my ears create sounds that aren’t even there. Or maybe they are, and just seem louder and creepier than they really are.
My phone vibrates on the table and I reach over, silencing it without even seeing who it is. I shut the ringer off days ago when the reporters started calling. They call at all hours of the day and night, believing eventually I’ll answer and give them the “inside scoop”. Fuck them. Immediately after I silence it, it vibrates again. Cady hasn’t even been gone that long, and yet here she is checking on me already. Sighing, I snatch the phone off the coffee table, but my finger freezes when I see the name on the screen. I stare at it until it stops and goes to voicemail. The phone buzzes in my hand and lights up showing a text message.
Cash: Answer the phone.
