I’d put him through hell, but when I walked out of the hospital on that last day, Ryder was right there. He drove me back to my apartment in dead silence. When we walked through my apartment door, he nailed me right in the face. I didn’t blame him. If the situation was reversed, I would’ve done the same.
Then he grabbed me, pulled me into hisarms, and sobbed. “Don’t fucking do that to me again, you son of a bitch.”
I gripped the back of his head and held him tight until he finally pulled away. “Swear to me,” he demanded. “Swear you won’t try to check out on me again.” He looked me in the face and had me make a promise that I’ve kept all this time, no matter how much I wanted to break it.
Until now.
Fueled by words
Present
“Looks like you’re finally closing in on the finish line,” Bryan remarks as he looks over my shoulder.
I look back at himwith a hard glare. The memories of that day have never left me. He was right. The man did deserve to die for what he did to me, and only God knows how many other kids, but it never sat right with me. But it did make the next time easier.
“Hurry up and get this shit done so we can get the fuck out of here.”
“Why are you in such a hurry?” I ask curiously because he’s been rushing since we got here.
“Because I’m over this shit. I’m just ready to go and be done with all of it. You backing out on me?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I have nothing left to give any of them. Or anyone for that matter.”
“Good. I was worried a certain blond might be making you have second thoughts.”
“She’s why I have to go,” I mutter.
Bryan is right. I’m almost finished with my great mea culpa.
“You gonna tell them the rest?” Bryan asks.
“Not about Alton. Zoey thinks he’s alive. Let her keep believing. She doesn’t need that guilt.”
A few years after O’Dell and after some digging by my private investigator, I went to South America, found Zoey’s rapist, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Even enjoyed the terrified look on his face. He thought he’d gotten away alive, if not intact, when Rory and Bastian let him go upon Zoey’s request that he suffer but live. Zoey didn’t make me promise shit, and after finding her in that alley and then again bleeding out on my bathroom floor, there was no way that bastard was going to keep breathing. The same went for Rossi. He might have gotten away that day in Chicago after trying to sell Tori and Cara, but he wasn’t going to keep breathing. The entire River City mafia has been looking for him since, but I found him first.
Call it vigilante justice if you must, but it was something I had to do. A compulsion, I guess. Each time added more weight on my shoulders, but I would always look after the people who were important to me.
“You two are a fucking pair. Always feeling guilty for other people’s shit.”
“It’s called having a fucking conscience. You might do well to find yours.”
“I have you for that, even though I’ve tried like hell to get you to let it go.”
I shake my head again as the noise starts again. I look over to my stash sitting on the table. I’ve been high and drunk for days with only a few moments between for writing. But it’s necessary. Without all of it, I’m not sure I could’ve written this much. Confessed my deepest darkest secrets.
But the walls are closing in on me. Puddles of blood are all over the floor. The wallpaper is starting to crumble with every minute that passes. The noise is grating, and it’s been a while now since it was quiet despite the fact that I just did a hit twenty minutes ago.
I walk to the bed and pick up the guitar. I don’t have a lot more to add to the journal, but I have a few more songs to finish. I begin picking at the chords until I finally settle on the ones that sound right.
This road has been long and winding
And I’m too tired to go on
Pain and sorrow have haunted me
Guilt and regret fill my mind
I can’t go on, I can’t keep fighting
