Page 37 of Last Breath

“Salem,” Malachi said with trepidation.

Muttering to himself, Salem’s frustration seemed to increase knowing Malachi was there. “I told him. I told him.” He smacked his head repeatedly, banging it as if knocking out a demon. “Why didn’t he listen? I said never, never betray me. Never. He was mine. Why did you break him? Why did you scare them away?”

His conversation wasn’t making sense. It was as if Salem was talking to someone else in his head, another who’d driven Malachi away.

Taking a few steps away from the car, approaching Salem slowly, Malachi said quietly, “Sal, it’s me, Malachi. I’m here.”

“They broke it. The diamond was broke. They shattered the beauty, it’s broken. How to fix it? How to make it whole?” His pace was steady, but tears flowed one by one down his cheeks. Salem’s internal devil was waging a war with him, breaking him from the inside out. It was painful to see.

I called out, “Salem?” I was ignored.

“She’s a damaged heart. A broken stone. Now a tainted picture of perfection. How to fix. How to fix…” As he paced, Malachi stepped in his path, halting his walk, but his conversation continued. “No more weddings, no more flowers. Crushed stones, broken hearts. How to fix?”

Raising a hand, placing it on Salem’s cheek, Malachi softly brushed the surface. “Salem, the stone isn’t broken. The heart is whole.”

“The heart is broken, you shattered it. You pulled it in and made it yours. The toy is broken, the picture is wrong, the world is broken.” His eyes were transfixed on Malachi, but he was looking through him, looking for a repair.

“I love you, Salem. You’re right, it’s broken. I broke it. The stone is whole, though. The picture isn’t shattered.” Looking over his shoulder at me, he said, “See? The toy is okay. The heart is all right. The wedding is safe.”

I’d always thought of my own internal song as a mantra that helped me through the day, but his mantra of broken toys and shattered hearts was different. The situation caused me a bit of unease. Humming my song and rocking to the tune, I bobbed to the beat of it. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. The tempo was calming, and I found myself a little more at ease with the situation.

Honestly, we’re quite the set. Salem’s broken internal war, me with my soothing music, and Malachi trying to rationalize the words of a maniac.

“Come here, Joy,” Malachi urged, wanting me to approach them. “Come out.”

Reaching for the handle and popping the door open, I stepped out. With the hot sun beating down, I brushed down my skirt and walked over. Coming within steps, Malachi threw out an arm, reaching back and expecting me to take it. Grasping his hand, he gently pulled me forward. Still humming, I found myself looking at Salem and seeing the cracked facade.

“The stone is broken. The toy is gone,” he stated, looking at me but not.

I was unsure of what to say, so I continued to hum the tune. ‘Mister Sandman, I’m so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own…’

“Mom?” Salem queried, turning his eyes to mine.

Bunching my brows, I stopped my humming. “No. Joy, Salem. I’m Joy.”

“You’re mine, Joy.” Placing a hand on my cheek, running a finger along my jaw and blinking slowly, Salem quieted.

“I’m yours, Salem.”

Moving his hand, he dragged it down to my throat and closed it around my neck. “You’re mine. If I share it’s because they said so.” Grasping tight, he squeezed lightly and looked past me, glaring at Malachi. “No more sharing Joy. You’re mine. She’s mine. No more Malachi.”

Tightening his grip tighter yet, Salem cut off my air. “Salem.”

“You’re mine.” Holding tight, he backed us up to the car, never taking his eyes from mine. “You’re mine, Joy.”

I tried to nod my head, I tried to speak out, and in the background, I could hear Malachi imploring Salem to let go. But I could see his eyes. I saw the madness that was there. He wasn’t listening to Mal, and he wouldn’t listen to me either—I knew that. So I didn’t even try.

As my back hit the side of the car by the trunk, Salem’s gaze was intense and narrowed. “Mine, Joy. You’re mine.” Reaching his hand low, lifting the skirt and touching my core, I understood fully. So I relaxed. I didn’t fight him, I didn’t argue, I didn’t attempt to breathe deeper. I waited, knowing he wouldn’t hurt me.

Releasing my neck, I let out a soft cough. Salem unbuckled his pants and opened the back door.

“Get in, Joy.”

Without a fuss I crawled in, lying down and anticipated the inevitable. Climbing in after, his jeans were gone, as was his shoes. Salem rested on his hands and knees above me. “Mine.” Is all he said before entering my body, slowly and sweetly.

In answer, I panted out as he thrusted back and forth to a sweet tempo of release.

“Yours, Salem. Yours.”

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