Page 67 of Give Me Redemption

The night is young, the club is hopping like always, and my brother is downstairs with Harrison, while I’m up here surrounded by a bunch of chicks who make me feel nothing. It’s good to be home. I don’t need that woman in my life. I have enough shit going on inside my mind without Dalton consuming it, too.

I exhale my smoke and lean back on the couch, looking up at the all-black ceiling.

A silver cloud of carbon monoxide twirls, spinning and twisting into the darkness. I close my eyes, letting my mind lose focus. Music so loud fades as my thoughts float like a wandering balloon. No certain destination, just free flying, but like always, the wind picks up, sweeping it toward old memories.

Bullets fly pop, pop, popping past my ears, striking the clay walls, crumbling pieces to the floor. It’s dark, sunshine only coming in through the bullet holes. “Shit, shit, shit,” I say, my hands starting to shake as I look around me. “Rocket,” I call out, wiping sweat from my brow. “Fuck. We’re surrounded,” I say, swallowing dirt. Adams runs in ducking when a bullet flies past his head.

“Fuck that almost...” Whoosh.

“Adams!” I yell as he falls to the ground.

My eyes pop open and I sit up. “Fuck,” I say. I place my face in my hands, my eyes blurry and wide. I sniff and put my fingers in my eyes, rubbing them. Scratching the side of my face, I stretch my jaw, grab the dollar bill, and bend. I sniff the forgetting powder. Leaning back and holding my left nostril, I toss the bill down, stand up, and raise my hands.

“Who wants to fucking dance?” I ask. The girls follow me down and I hold on to one of them as we grind against one another on the dance floor. I see my brother looking at me from the bar. I feel Harrison’s eyes as well, but I don’t give a shit. They haven’t seen what I’ve seen; they haven’t lived through what I have.

I lost everything.

I lost every fucking thing.

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The night passes in a blur of light, drinks, drugs, and women. But after it’s all over, I’m alone.

Always alone.

The radio blasts in the private bar above the club. Thirty Seconds To Mars sings “Stay,” and it hits me so hard, I find myself wiping tears from my face.

I’m so fucking confused.

I have no idea why I made it out and they didn’t. I have no clue why I get to sit here, and none of them get to take another breath.

I’ve got this fucking hole in my chest. It’s deep, endless even. I pick up my phone, finding her number. I want her to talk to me. I want to talk to her.

I know I said I can shut it off, but I need to talk to someone. Bryce is with Harrison. He deserves to be happy, but I’m so unhappy, I’m envious of my brother.

I hit her number without thinking. My black heart gives my soul the middle finger when it goes straight to voicemail.

It goes to voicemail.

I throw my phone against the wall and grab my smokes from the table. Lighting one, I look down at the phone that’s now no good to anyone.

Just like me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Harlow

This time of year is usually a little tough for me. I bend over, trying to catch my breath as the leaves tumble. The cool breeze wraps itself around my body, cooling the sweat I’ve accumulated while running.

I walk over to the bench in the park and take a seat as I stare out. After ripping my earbuds from my ears and letting them hang around my neck, I stop the music blasting from my phone and look up.

People run by with dogs on leashes and babies in strollers. Rusty leaves fall from trees of bright yellow and paper bag brown. Summer faded out quicker than I thought it would.

Kids walk around dressed like princesses and their favorite character of the year. Buckets filled with candy are held by little fingers. Trick-or-treating isn’t done in the dark anymore, and that’s a good thing.

It’s All Hallows’ Eve. All looks well from where I sit, but the world is a fucked-up place. There are monsters dressed like dads. There are creeps who were once little boys.

Sons, fathers, brothers.

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