Page 7 of Tormenting Me

“Hey,” I say, getting the attention of the attendant. “Can I get that shirt in a woman’s large?” He gives me a look and shrugs, grabbing the shirt and I hand over the cash. I toss the shirt over my shoulder and wait across from the doors to see when they go back inside. I take my hat off and run my fingers through my hair, trying to keep the curls from peeking out, flipping it backwards. I spot them as they enter the concert, making their way back to the bar.

Layne’s decision to drink at venues bothers me, especially because half the time Atlas is equally as intoxicated and unable to protect her. Rolling my eyes in frustration as I watch them order shot after shot of tequila at the bar. It’s now apparent that I can’t rely on Atlas to keep Layne safe tonight.

As they make their way to the front of the crowd, I struggle to contain my anger. The sight of countless men ogling my girl infuriates me, but I refrain from acting on my violent impulses. I stay a few steps behind them, ensuring that I don’t get noticed.

With clenched fists, I resist lashing out at those who dare to look at her. The possessiveness I feel towards her is overwhelming, but I know that violence is not the answer. Continuing to follow behind them while maintaining a safe distance, I don’t let them escape my line of sight.

The music blares and the crowd pulsates, I can’t help but worry for Layne’s well-being. I want to protect her, to shield her from any harm. But for now, all I can do is remain in the shadows and ensure that she stays out of danger.

As the last notes of the last song fade away, I am left breathless, sweaty, and completely exhilarated. The chaos has subsided, and a sense of peace washes over me.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I head outside to smoke and wait for my girl to leave. I want to make sure she gets a ride home before I head to my car. Leaning up against the wall, I flick my lighter and bring it to the cigarette between my lips. The flame ignites the end, the orange hue illuminating my face in the darkness. Smoke surrounds me as I exhale and wait, after ten minutes, finally, my dark-haired siren emerges.

They wait a few moments and when a car pulls up, Layne confirms it’s her ride. She hugs Atlas goodbye and climbs in and the car takes off. I stub out my butt and head towards my car. Driving back into the city, the traffic is non-existent at eleven p.m., allowing me to reflect on the night’s experience. It was a good show, well, what I actually paid attention to. My girl has pretty good taste in music.

Instead of heading home, I go straight to my spot a few blocks from Layne’s apartment. While I wait for her to get settled, I crack open the energy drink then pull out my Kindle from my glove box, and read a little before I go check to see if she is asleep. I get lost in my horror novel and lose track of time and by the time I realize it, it’s three in the morning.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I hop out of the car, reaching back in to grab the shirt that I got for her. I lock the GTO and make my way to her apartment. I just hope she is asleep and I can sneak in, get a peek at her, then duck back out to go home and get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up for work.

As I get closer, I see the lights are off. I climb up the fire escape ladder, make sure the coast is clear. Pulling the window up, I climb through and see that Layne is lying on the couch instead of in bed. Almost as if she came in the door and just flopped on it and passed out.

“Baby,” I whisper as I shake my head at her, still fully clothed, shoes included. I drape the shirt over the back of the couch then cross the room to her bed and grab the comforter off the bed. I cover her up and stealthily remove her shoes. A bold urge washes over me and I bend over and kiss the top of her head. She shifts a little but stays asleep.

“Goodnight, Ma Petite Mort.”

“Mmmm,” she mumbles in her sleep. A smile forms in the corners of my lips. That’s the most acknowledgment she’s ever given and you know what, I’ll fucking take it.

Slipping out the window and down the ladder, I quickly make my way back to my car to head home. Once back home, I change into a pair of joggers and crawl into bed, alone, still buzzing with adrenaline. As I close my eyes, I replay the concert in my mind, seeing Layne and how beautiful she looked tonight.

Chapter six

Layne

Do I enjoy being alone? Sure, as much as the next person but at the same time, I just want someone to be alone with me. Throughout my childhood, I often found myself alone, navigating the world and relying on my less-than-stellar skills to survive. Inside of me, the essence of the fifteen-year-old girl who died still lingers, despite my current age of twenty-two. I have trouble allowing others into my life. My best friend, Atlas, is the only person who I trust with anything.

Atlas crashed into my life when I was sixteen. He was dancing in the hallway of our high school and ran into me. Our souls recognized each other, calling out from the void to one another. We’ve been inseparable through every challenge and triumph over the years. I don’t think I would still be alive today if it wasn’t for him.

My eyes shoot open as the sour feeling in my stomach hits. I regret finishing that bottle of vodka last night. October 15th is always tough for me. The day I died. The Big Sky Daddy sent me back after three minutes. How do I show him my appreciation? By taking the day off, getting shit-faced, dancing to music, and then passing out in my bed. Alone.

Atlas tells me I need to find someone, to let someone bring me some happiness. What guy would want to deal with an emotionally damaged girlfriend? A girl who relives dying, daily. Who’s fucking depressed and struggles to put on a happy face for everyone. They would enjoy the novelty of having a twenty-two-year-old virgin for a split second. However, the appeal of it would vanish immediately once they fucked me. I’m a chaotic mix of darkness and brokenness.

You’re not worth it, Layne. That’s why your alone. Deep down you know you’d only drag them down.

I quickly sprint to the bathroom and vomit into the toilet. As I crouch in front of the porcelain god, I re-evaluate my most recent life decisions. Dial down the drinking. The self-loathing and wallowing, too. I get ready for the day while I’m in here. With a reach into the shower, I turned on the tap and let the water run, adjusting the temperature knob to a level slightly below scalding. Inside, I stand under the steady spray, feeling the warmth of the water against my skin.

After fifteen minutes, I get out and get dressed. I grab a bowl, the box of cereal, and the milk. Sitting on the couch, I’m anticipating the scary movie I’m about to watch while I eat the mundane bowl of cereal. After choosing a movie it plays in the background, the emotional pain slowly fades away, numbed by the screams of the characters. My phone chimes at some point, alerting me that I have a text.

Atlas: Do you think you can come in a little early? It’s super busy, and I need help with restocking.

I never turn down the chance to work extra hours. While I’m getting a fantastic deal with this apartment, the cost of living in the Bay Area is ridiculously high. I sent off a reply.

Layne: Yup. I’ll be there soon.

Popping onto the ride share app, I order a ride, and get ready to go, then I head downstairs to the pizza shop, to grab some pizza for Atlas and I. The door swings open and the aroma of delicious, greasy pizza makes my stomach growl, even though I just ate. Across the room, Roman, the owner’s son, makes eye contact with me. A huge grin plastered on his face as he waves me over.

I know Roman feels some type of way about me. Atlas says I should just fuck him and get the whole virginity thing taken care of. I could do worse, I suppose. The problem is, I feel nothing when I look at him. It’s like looking at a brother. Roman is cute, don’t get me wrong. He’s sweet and never lets me pay for all the pizza Atlas and I consume. But there is just no attraction.

Maybe I am broken.

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