“Cash….” I stop, working through the words to find the best way to say it. His gaze flickers over my face, and when it meets mine again, he’s shut me out. He drops his hand from my face, and I grab it in both of mine. “It wouldn’t work. You’re a drug dealer.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“You lied to me. You manipulated—”
“I never manipulated you. And I only lied to you about why I was there.” His hand tightens in mine. “Everything else was the truth.”
“You have this idealized version of me. I’m not that woman.”
His brow furrows as he leans into me. “I don’t idealize shit. Never have. I see what’s right in front of me. I know the kind of pain you feel. I’ve felt it for as long as I can remember and have learned to live with it. You make me forget and want to trust again. I know I do the same for you.” Cash lightly runs his finger over the belt marks on my neck. “I don’t want you to just survive, Hazel. I want you to live.”
Cash’s face blurs as I fight back tears. It’s hard for me to see myself the way he does. When I look at myself, I see someone tainted by hate, with invisible scars that run deep. The person I was just a matter of weeks ago is foreign to me. I can’t figure out how to be her anymore. I’ve tried. The things that make her tick seem so simple and easy to emulate. But they’re not. How do you find that easy-going happiness when you’re full of anxiety, despair, and anger? Maybe it’s too soon. They say time heals all wounds, but it is not my friend. No matter how much time passes, I may never find it alone, trapped inside my head.
I don’t understand the connection I have with Cash, but I need it. He calms the anger and anxiety eating away inside me. Even though I don’t know much about him, I feel safe with him and trust that he willnever physically harm me. No, what worries me most with Cash is emotional harm. In my weakened state, I’ll never bounce back from that. It will break me completely. The question is, can I live with not knowing what could’ve been and try to heal myself, or do I risk being broken for a chance to feel whole again?
“I know what you’re thinking.” Cash grabs my upper arms and pulls me to him. “Quit fighting yourself into that hole. Let me help you out of it. You don’t have to do it alone.”
His fingers dig into the bruises on my arms as his grip tightens. The air sucks between my teeth loudly, and my lids squeeze shut as I fight the groan in my throat. Cash instantly lets ago and takes a step back, his head hanging low.
“I’m sorry,” he says shamefully. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay,” I say, as I gently rub my arms to ease the ache. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
He nods and turns away, as if he’s searching the room for the words to say and can’t find them. “You’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you’re tired. Let me show you where you’re sleeping.”
And just like that, the conversation is over. He took a chance, let the walls around his heart down, and I froze. It’s as if our roles have reversed.
He takes my hand and leads me down the hall of his past, stopping at the door across from the bathroom. The room is decorated plainly in soft pastels. A beautiful four-posterbed takes up the majority of space. Carved into the frame in a delicate pattern is ivy. The posts swirl at the top, reminding me of the way ivy grows and wraps around things. The entire bed appears to be hand carved.
My finger traces the ivy on the tall footboard, and I’m amazed at how smooth it feels. “This is the most beautiful bed I’ve ever seen.”
“I thought you would appreciate it.” A small smile forms on Cash’s face before it melts into a taught line. “My father made it.”
“He must be a natural woodworker,” I say, continuing my perusal.
“He needed something to help him adjust to civilian life when he was discharged from the Marines.” Cash stares at the bed, but he’s not focused on it. He’s haunted and lost in a daze, seeing a memory that torments him. “It kept his mind…busy.”
The way he talks about his father in the past tense makes me feel awful for my previous statement. Losing him must have been a traumatic experience, and one of the reasons why he closes himself off to people.
Before I can say anything, Cash leaves the room and returns with my overnight bag I left in the bathroom.
“The dresser is empty if you want to unpack.” He grabs the doorknob and begins to pull the door closed. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”
He doesn’t wait for a response and closes the door.Mentally, I’m exhausted. But, physically, I’m not. I slept through half the day after that ass gave me the sedative. I unpack my meager belongings into the top drawer of the dresser, and then lay my bag atop it before examining the room that once belonged to Cash’s father. It’s so quiet I can hear the crickets outside. Me and quiet don’t fare so well these days. I pull the curtains back a tad and peek outside. The dusk-to-dawn light shines brightly from the driveway, but doesn’t do a great job illuminating the area of the house I’m sleeping in. Shadows dance along the ground, put in motion by the gently blowing breeze.
I drop the curtain back in place and go brush my teeth. Light shines beneath Cash’s bedroom door, and I can hear the rumble of his voice behind it. He must be on the phone.
Fuck! What a shitty friend I am. I haven’t called Cady to let her know I’m alright. They all must be worried sick about me. And poor Bobby. I hope he’s okay. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all tell me to go to hell after this. I’ve put all of them through so much.
I decide to call them, but when I step out of the bathroom, the light in Cash’s room is off. He’s had a longer day than me, running on no sleep. I’ll call them in the morning.
I return to the room and pull the covers back. The rough material of my sweatpants rubs my tender flesh, and I know I’ll never get comfortable enough in them to sleep. I discard them, then slip into the bed and turn off the lamp. The cool sheets feel wonderful against my warm skin.
I glance around the strange room, now cascaded with the dim outdoor light. The thin curtains display shadows, as if it’s the backdrop for their play. I used to love watching them atnight. The graceful movements were so peaceful, reminding me of a ballet. That was long before evil darkened my world. Now the graceful movements seem more sinister and make my heart race. I close my eyes, but I don’t sleep. Instead, I lie here, learning the sounds of this unknown house. The quiet symphony leads the shadows that form images inside my lids, keeping me awake.
The anxiety of sleeping in a new place, surrounded by phantom noises and shadows, pushes me from the bed. I flip on the light, ending the play on the curtains, and check the locks on the windows. I let out a sigh of relief when I find them secure. Quietly, I exit the bedroom and walk toward the living room. The outside light shines brightly, brightening the room enough to see. The only locks are the knob and the deadbolt. Both are locked, but only seeing two on the door worries me. I check the door to the garage and find that secured with the same kind of locks. The back door is the same way. How does he expect to keep people out of here? Anyone could easily get in.
I grab a chair from the small kitchen table and wedge it between the knob and the door. It fits perfectly, so I do the same to the garage door, and grab another for the front door. I get it in position and shove up just as a light flicks on, making me screech and jump. I tug at my shirt, wishing I had put on my pants.
