Page 60 of The Darkness Within

“Maybe it’s you,” I whisper to Valor. “Maybe you’re my higher power. I see how hard you’re trying to save me.” I scoop him up and cuddle him against my chest, rubbing my cheek against his soft fur. He purrs loudly, his entire little body vibrating like a tuning fork. “But you’re just a little man, and I’m a big guy with too much for you to carry. My burden weighs more than your entire body.”

The movie continues to play in my head, a kaleidoscope of haunting images that have become the soundtrack of my life. I almost don’t even hear the soft knock at my door before Brewer slips quietly inside my room.

“Nash?” He searches the empty bed for me. “Nash?”

“Over here,” I croak.

“You didn’t answer my texts. I came to check on you.” Brewer crouches down in front of me, placing his reassuring hands on my weighted shoulders.

“I’m drowning. I’m doing everything I can to stay clean, but it’s not getting better. I’m drowning, Brewer. And I don’t even know if I want to be saved anymore. I’m tired.”

“You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning, Nash. You’re clean, but you’re not recovering. There’s a difference. You can’t begin to recover until you give up control and ask for help. Surrender.”

He sits down fully beside me and tugs me until I scoot between his legs. His big strong arms wrap around my chest, and Brewer holds me tight, holds on to me as he rocks me and Valor, whispering soothing sounds in my ear.

“Shh. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again. I know you’re angry with God. You feel like he stole something precious from you, that he cheated you somehow, cheated Victor Gutierrez, but you’re only hurting yourself if you don’t ask Him for help. Hasn’t He forgiven you every time you fucked up? Why can’t you forgive Him?”

His words resonate within me, but it’s not that simple. “It’s not supposed to work that way. He’s supposed to be better than me. God doesn’t make mistakes. That’s what I was taught in Sunday school.”

“I was taught a lot of things that don’t make sense to me now, and nobody is going to tell me what is right and wrong for me. Your relationship with Him can be whatever you want it to be, whatever makes you feel comfortable. Don’t let anyone dictate what you believe.”

“I want to,” I cry, rocking harder. “I want to believe. I want to forgive. But I’m so fucking angry, and if I let go of this anger, what do I have left? Some days I feel like it’s the only thing fueling my body.” Hot tears roll down my cheeks and drip onto my bare chest, bathing me in their frustration and desperation.

“You let go of the anger and you replace it with hope. Grab on to hope. Let it lift you up above the anger, above the guilt and the sadness.”

The weight in my chest eases slightly, and I swallow hard past the constriction in my dry throat. “I’m afraid to hope. I’m afraid, Brewer. I hate saying that, but I am. If I hope and I fail, it’s over. I can’t come back from that.”

“I won’t let you fail. I’ll never let you fail,” he whispers fiercely.

For long minutes, he holds me, rocks me gently, his fingers scratching through my hair, his soft voice caresses my ear. And then he sings to me, and I can barely hear the words over my broken sobbing. It wracks my body with tremors, and I feel as if I’m breaking apart into thousands of tiny shards and being remade into a stronger man. A man who has hope. A man who isn’t so afraid to trust.

A man looking for a miracle.

“The sun will come out tomorrow, Nash. You can bet that tomorrow there will be sun.”

The kitchen is already crowded to maximum capacity by the time I shuffle in, searching for coffee. The smell lured me from bed more effectively than any bucket of ice water or bugle. In the desert, the big voice used to wake me. The overhead speaker could be heard from anywhere on the FOB, no matter where you tried to hide from the intrusive sound. But the smell of brewing coffee is a thousand times more potent.

“There he is,” Nacho greets in his usual cheery voice. He’s standing at the stove making breakfast, just like every morning. “I watered your plant.”

He did not! “Tell me you didn’t. You didn’t use tap water, did you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t have?” Nacho asks, sounding confused. I do not need to wake up to this shit. “Just kidding, man, relax. I saw the jug of distilled water sitting next to the sink.”

I’m instantly relieved until Brewer asks, “Really, Nash? Don’t you think you’re taking this too far?”

He’s nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. He’s got to be as exhausted as I am. We stayed awake for hours, with him just holding me, singing to me, soothing my fears. Eventually, I fell asleep against his chest with his arms around me. Somehow, I woke up in my bed. I’ll have to thank him for that later.

“I’m not taking it too far. There’s chlorine in that tap water. Probably aluminum and lead, too. You’re poisoning your plants,” I inform him.

He just laughs. “Your meds are on the counter.”

“I think it’s sexy the way you take care of your plant and your kitty,” Tex purrs, coming up behind me. “Maybe I’ll call you Daddy, because you like to be responsible for everyone and everything.”

“Don’t you dare,” I warn him. I can’t even take him seriously with his fuzzy pink Hello Kitty robe over brown and red plaid pajama pants.

Where does this man shop? Forever 21?

“There’s all kinds of stuff in that tap water,” Miles confirms. “I think it makes you sound perfectly sane.”

---