Never by Blue Saffire

Chapter 25

Lurking Past

Gutter

I can’t help watching her sleep. It’s been a long day. Sal has been passed out, since her sobs subsided in the truck. I’d held her while she allowed her emotions to drain.

When she was all cried out, I slipped from beneath her, placed her in the seat, and fastened the belt. I wanted to leave as much road as I could in the rearview mirror.

I can’t deny feeling the change between us in that cage. I’m not just talking about in our relationship. Something shifted on the inside of me, and I know something has on the inside of my girl as well.

For once, Salalia was able to stop and feel. She was able to give over control and not have to take action if she didn’t want to. I would’ve gotten her there either way.

From what I’m learning about her, Sal’s always ready to go. Always ready to take action. People don’t understand the energy it takes to run for your life, to make sure that you survive.

Watching her sleep, seeing her at peace, causes my mind to run through all she’s been through. It pains me to think of how much of it all she’s had to endure on her own. There was a time when I wasn’t so alone.

In all the shit I had handed to me, I had Terry. In the beginning, we had each other’s backs. I took on more of the responsibility, but Terry, being as smart as he was, took some of the burden off my shoulders by handling shit while I made us money.

Listening to Sal tell it, she doesn’t ask King for much. When she needs something, she relies on herself. I want to change that. I plan to change that.

I look down at my phone. Grim and Reap are about an hour out from us. I told him to stop, eat, and get some rest the last time he sent me a text. He wanted to ride through, but I think Reap must have started to show signs of fatigue, which forced him to text me just now that they’re stopping.

I’m confident they will eat up that distance in the morning. I rub my forehead, knowing I need to get some sleep myself. My thoughts won’t let me.

My demons are clawing at my collar. I don’t know if it’s from unleashing a part of who I really am with Sal in that clearing or if it’s a result of the buildup from the last few weeks. My own shit hasn’t miraculously gone away.

This time of year always brings back the darkest times of my life. I’ve had a lid on it all since having Sal with me, but tonight the devil is knocking. I just refuse to answer. I’d rather lie awake than allow my demons to surface in my sleep.

Sal stirs in the bed beside me. I look down at her as I sit with my back to the headboard. She still looks peaceful. I allow my eyes to roam over her curves beneath the thin sheet.

I haven’t removed her clothes, just her shoes. There was a time where Terry slept fully clothed. It took months before I got him to at least take off his shoes.

Given my many triggers and remembering Terry’s, I don’t want to set any of Sal’s off unintentionally. Not wanting to disturb her sleep, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and run a hand through my hair. Then I draw the same hand down my face, grunting to myself as I feel the hair lining my jaw. It’s been a few days since I’ve shaved.

I stand and make my way to my bag, might as well shave while I’m up. I make my way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I’m lost in thought and the act of shaving when my phone vibrates on the countertop.

When I see the name that comes up on the screen, I freeze. Not sure why, but it’s the last name I’m expecting to see tonight. The silence of the last few days gave me a false sense of comfort.

I’m thrown back in time. It happens so fast I can’t stop it. I can only reach for the countertop and hold on.

“You’re really going to just walk away?” Terry said in a small voice.

“Yeah, there’s nothing here for me. I don’t want any part of this house. I can barely stand here as it is.” I shook my head and turned away.

I don’t want him to see the fear and anger on my face. This place is filled with nothing but fear and anger. So much fear.

We feared what would happen to us when my mother died, and my father lost himself, becoming the living dead. We feared what would happen to us when my dad died too. We feared Melody and what she would allow her friends to do to us.

It all made us so angry. I wanted nothing to do with this place. I don’t want the money either, but it’s better than living on the street, trying to strip for money or being an escort just so I can eat and have a place to rest my head.

“Pier, I’m sorry about all that shit,” Terry starts from behind me.

“Don’t,” I say, unconsciously lifting my hand to my scar.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” he whispers.

“No, I don’t want to talk about shit. We’re toxic for each other, Ter. I can see it in your eyes. You’re still on that shit. I can’t watch you self-destruct.”

“I thought we would make this work together. I… I need—”

I cut him off.

“Don’t, don’t say it. Don’t do it. Don’t trap me here with you. Do what you want with the place. I have more bad memories here than good. I don’t want any part of this place,” I replied, heading for the door.

It was the last time I saw Terry in person. It was also the night he tried to commit suicide. It’s the night that has haunted me for years. I wasn’t there to save him from himself. Again, I failed him.

I was in the habit of failing him, but I knew I would be destroyed right along with him if I tried to pull him from the darkness. Alba, our only childhood friend, found him in the bathroom with slashed wrists and an empty bottle of pills.

Terry had called her sobbing that he didn’t want to die. She got there in time to get him help, but not before a bloody fucked-up Terry texted me photos of his situation. That text will never wash away from my mind.

I didn’t even see it until the next morning. I was wasted out of my mind when Alba’s call woke me the next day. Terry was stable, but Alba was a mess over it. She’d known bits and pieces of what we’d gone through.

Terry had told her and made her swear never to tell her parents. She had sobbed for me to come to the hospital. What she didn’t know was that I had tried to drink myself to death that very same night. My head was too fucked up. I couldn’t face Terry. I had failed him over and over.

I was barely holding my own shit together. We were better off without each other. We would only remind each other of the fucked-up life we shared and I would forever be reminded of how I failed him.

I’m brought back from the past by the ping of my phone. Terry’s name flashes as a missed call and a voicemail. My hand shakes as I reach for the phone.

I don’t know if I’m ready to open that door. We’re only two weeks away from the anniversary of the night we both tried to take our lives. I can still remember waking in a pool of my own vomit.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but that’s a mistake. The images of Terry in a bath of his own blood, his lids heavy as he gave me the finger, are so vivid. I feel like he has been giving me the finger ever since.

I open my eyes and grunt at the phone. Looking up into the mirror, my scar screams at me. Nothing good comes from getting involved with Terry.

From what I know, he’s gotten his life together. At least, that’s what the reports say. I’m just not ready to open that door. Not with Sal’s life still in danger. My own shit will wait.