Page 46 of Tear Me Down
God damn it, Zeke…
“What did you say?” Serena asks as she turns her gaze at Zeke, and then back to me. “You shot someone last night?” she asks in disbelief, shaking her head in small movements like it’s the most unimaginable thing for her to hear.
“Yeah, but…”
“What has gotten into you?” She interrupts me, and my stomach falls all the way to my feet, leaving me nauseous and empty all at the same time.
“What do you mean?”
“So, you’re just okay with killing people now?” Anger breeds on her face, covering it so completely that I almost can’t see the worry in her eyes.
“Ser, it’s not that big of a deal. That guy…”
Serena snaps her head back to Zeke when he speaks and slams her hands on the table.
“Shut the fuck up, Zeke. I’m not some member of your little boy band.” she practically bites at him before jerking back to me. “Well?”
I feel frozen in place, like I’m a kid again and don’t know how to handle someone being upset with me. My throat feels tight and my thoughts stutter, making me feel like I want to run and hide like I used to.
“It was Turk, Ser. The dealer…”
“I remember Turk, but what I don’t remember is you being so careless or indifferent to someone’s life.” Her disappointed tone is unwavering, and the stern edge in her words makes me feel like a scorned child, but I suppose to a nurse who saves people’s lives every day, this can be unsettling. “Murder is still murder, no matter who gets killed, Ashia, and you just up and decided to kill someone? A living, breathing person?”
“Ser…it’s not like that. I don’t know what…”
“Did he make you do it?” She interrupts me again, but the hatred in her tone sets something else off inside me, like a warning siren for a tornado.
“Who? Damien?”
“Yes, Damien. Your serial killer fiancé.” That triggers the fire in my chest and manifests an anger that I’ve never felt towards her before. I understand that she isn’t necessarily a fan of his, but she’s sitting in our home, that he provided for us, and wants to start slinging insults like he hasn't also protected her?
“He’s not a serial killer,” I seethe.
“Well, when you look at the technicalities, he is.”
That’s when Zeke’s face hardens and he looks at her with a type of disgust, as if he’s also offended by her statement.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he says back to her, but I pitch in, not wanting this to turn into an all-out screaming match.
“Ser, you don’t understand…”
“No, I understand completely. The guy at the shop? I understood that. We were in literal danger, but what I don’t get is how my sweet, reclusive best friend suddenly got the urge to not only lure a man to his death, but was the one to kill him.” She stands up, her anger obviously pouring over, and I instinctivelytake a step back. “You couldn’t even watch anything but cheesy horror films three months ago, and now you’re okay with committing murder?”
“Ser, it’s not like that. I realized it was him, and I got caught up in asking him about my parents, I just got so mad…” My hands start to tremble, the feeling snaking its way up my limbs and creeping into the back of my neck as the anxiety grows. A chaotic mix of anger and sadness swirls around and through my body, making the floor feel unsteady. Though, I can tell she clearly feels the same way. The desperation in her eyes is something I've never seen from her, and it's killing me. She wants me to tell her that it’s all a huge misunderstanding, and that I didn't look a man right in the eyes and end his life last night—but I can't lie to her like that, and now I have to stand back and watch one of the most important people in my life despise me.
“That’s your excuse? So, what’s next? If I piss you off enough, are you going to hurt me? If I remind you of all of your past bullshit, what would you do to me?”
My heart stops at her questions, and I actually feel like I might faint, with nothing left to hold me up but the cold chill running through my bones.
“Of course not, Ser! I would never hurt you!” I declare, almost pleading with her to understand and remember how much she means to me. Every time we’ve held each other when we cried, all of the horrible shit we’ve been through together, every moment we’ve ever had collides in one swoop in my mind, and the last thing I want is for her to be just a memory.
“Even if that is true, how am I just supposed to be okay with you committing murder? Regardless of if it’s justified. What does that make me?”
“You’re still my best friend, Ser. I’m still me.” I can’t help but pat my chest, trying to get her to understand why I felt so much relief, so much peace to be able to finally put that part of my life behind me on my own terms. I know that it was wrong, and I don’t know how to make her understand that for some reason, I don’t care that it was. I’m not even sure I know…
“Are you though?” A sharp silence fills the house, leaving nothing but the dinner sizzling behind me. The air is suddenly thick, making it hard to breathe. “I don’t… I don’t even recognize you anymore…” Her lip quivers and she hugs herself, stepping away slowly like if I approach her, she’ll scream. It’s like she’s ripped out my heart before stomping on it.
The world stops moving, and everything freezes around me, creating the perfect environment for my old seeds of abandonment to bloom when I thought they were all but dead. It’s happening again—once again, I’m not enough. Just as I was starting to feel that I could let go of the things that held me back and emerge from a shallow grave, more dirt is laid upon me.
