Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

JOEY

MY MIND WAS PLAYING tricks on me.

Or maybe my body was the one playing tricks on my mind.

Either way, I couldn’t figure anything out anymore.

Confusion had settled deep in my bloodstream, and I was lost.

I knew that I was physically present, back in the house I hated, surrounded by people I couldn’t look in the eye. Yet, it felt like I was looking down on myself from above. Like I was a spectator, seeing all the bullshit unfold around me, while I was powerless to stop it.

I’d gone too far, I realized.

The hunger eating away at me, the aching in my veins, it was too necessary now.

Too fucking deeply imbedded in me to try and fight it.

I didn’t want to fight.

I was tired.

When the chips were down and the cards had folded, Molloy was the only reprieve from the pain.

I wanted to reach for her.

I wanted so fucking badly to grab the hand she was holding out for me, but catching hold of her hand meant that she could be dragged down with me, and I couldn’t fucking risk it.

Ignoring the noise around me, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, I walked into class. Which class, I had no fucking clue, but I could see her face, standing out to me like a beacon of light in the darkness.

Hating myself with every fiber of my being, I let the beating heart in my chest lead me back to her.

Back home.

I could hear my name being spoken around me, but I just…I couldn’t get my brain to focus on anything but her.

Slumping down in the chair beside her, I let the familiar scent of her perfume fill my senses and shivered.

“Molloy.”

“Joe.”

She needs you, something deep down inside of me screamed, wake the fuck up!

I could see the swell of her stomach.

The baby I’d put inside of her body.

It couldn’t be hidden anymore.

Knees bopping restlessly, I tried to grapple with the tremors racking through my frame, but it wasn’t coming easy. Only when she reached under the desk and took my hand in hers did I find the ability to steady myself.

“Nice legs.”

Tears filled her eyes and she quickly looked away, but she didn’t stop holding my hand. Instead, she squeezed it tighter, warming my coldness with her warmth. Wordlessly, she shifted her chair closer to mine and gently popped one earphone in my ear. It was something she had done every day since Easter break. We had settled into a strange routine, where every morning at school, Molloy would hand me an earphone, giving me a glimpse into how she felt that morning.

One song at a time.

One day at a time.

That’s all she gave me, and it became the song I got up for in the morning.

It became the best part of my day.

The part before everything got too heavy and the urge to shoot up got the better of me.

For weeks, it continued.

Keane’s Somewhere Only We Know.

Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You.

Matchbox Twenty’s Unwell.

Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock’s Picture.

Dido’s White Flag.

Shakira’s Underneath Your Clothes.

Avril Lavigne’s I’m With You.

The Beatles’ Don’t Let Me Down.

The Verve’s The Drugs Don’t Work.

The Calling’s Wherever You Will Go.

Every day I walked into class, right before my will buckled and I freewheeled into hell, I sought her out.

Still chasing after the girl from the wall.

Still wanting her more than I wanted to live.

It was the small things she did, like continuing to wear the necklace I bought her. Or some days, she would be eating in class and then place her last Rolo on the desk in front of me.

It took me a while to recognize this morning’s song as LIVE’s Lightning Crashes and even longer to register the importance of that song for us. I turned my head to look straight ahead, feeling too much in the moment, too exposed and guilty.

This hurt.

It fucking burned and scorched me.

I knew what she was trying to accomplish by playing me this song, but I couldn’t get back there. Still, unable to stop myself, I allowed her to hold my hand under the desk, I allowed myself to absorb the feeling of her skin on mine, of her light temporarily chasing the dark away.

It wasn’t right, I was only hurting her further, but I needed this small scrap of affection. I needed her for just a little bit longer.

Frozen to the spot, I allowed her to do whatever she wanted to me.

God knows she owned me.

She entwined her fingers with mine and squeezed, and while I didn’t squeeze back, I couldn’t stop my thumb from tracing over her small knuckles.

I knew my actions were hurting her in a way that could send her away permanently, but I couldn’t stop myself anymore.

I couldn’t pull myself back out of the hole I’d fallen into.

Worse, a huge part of me didn’t want to.