Shattered Promises 1 Page 7

  I feel like an idiot. This whole time I’ve been drooling over him and I never bothered to ask if he has a girlfriend. “Oh, sorry. It doesn’t seem so bad then. To have them, I mean; especially if she means something to you.”

  He twists the string, securing the flowers to the mirror, his eyes glazing over as if he’s floating back into a memory. “I should probably take them down.”

  “Why? Did you break up with the girl?” Could I be any more obvious?

  He releases a breath trapped in his chest and wraps his fingers around the shifter. ”No, she died; quite a while ago.”

  Me and my excessive questions. Dammit. The sorrow in his eyes makes me feel like an asshole. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I—”

  As his fingers brush just above my kneecap, the sound of my voice withers. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago and I’ve moved on.”

  He doesn’t sound like it. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever seen any real, raw emotion from him. He looks lost, ripped apart from the inside, broken, beaten and guilty. I wonder what happened to this girl, but I don’t dare press any more than I already have. His hand leaves my leg and I decide to end the conversation, before I say anything else stupid.

  ***

  The party is in a cabin that’s located in the middle of the mountains. The car gets stuck in the snow three times during the drive up as the road becomes packed with more snow, narrowing the roads. It’s pitch black by the time we park in front of the cabin; the sky is so gloomy there isn’t a single speckle of starlight.

  The red interior lights of the cabin highlight the shoveled pathway that leads to the front porch and the red glow makes the snow look like it’s soaked with blood. There is music blasting from the inside that has an entrancing, sexy beat and the deep bass rattles the windows. There are people making out on the steps, the mixing of their breath swirling in the cold air as their hands wander and grope at each other. What am I about to walk into? An orgy?

  Alex turns the headlights off, removes the keys from the ignition, then opens the car door and steps outside. He tucks the keys into his pocket and lowers his head to peer in at me. “You comin’?”

  I glance warily at the porch and then at the trees beside it, recollecting my dream. “What kind of party is this?”

  “The kind where you have to take off your clothes just to get in,” he says and my expression falls. He shakes his head, grinning. “Relax, Gemma. It’s just a party. I promise you’ll be okay.”

  Another promise. I climb out of the car and meet him around the front. Walking side-by-side, we head up the pathway to the house. None of the people kissing and feeling each other up notice us as we pass by them and step into the warmth of the house. I begin to take a breath, when the smell of smoke, alcohol and sweat consumes my nostrils.

  The place is crammed with people taking shots and sipping beers. There’s a cloud of smoke from a very packed smoking section near the sliding glass door and the sexual tension from the dance floor is like poison in the air. Some of the things they’re doing are making my cheeks heat with excessive blood flow.

  My body tenses as Alex’s breath touches my ear and his hand grazes the small of my back. “Relax, I promised you’d be okay and I never break a promise. Remember?”

  My shoulder jolts upward from the nearness of him as I nod. “I’d be a little bit more comfortable if I knew why we’re here.”

  He leans over my shoulder and I tilt my head to the side to meet his eyes. My depth perception is off and I almost end up kissing him. “I just have to pick something up.” He threads his fingers through mine and pulls me toward the crowd.

  I can’t stop staring at our interlocked fingers, even as stray elbows and shoulders slam into my ribs and sides. No one’s ever held my hand. Ever. In fact, I’ve never even been hugged, that I know of.

  “Don’t drink anything offered to you,” Alex calls out over the music as a woman dressed in a short black dress whisks by us with a tray of green Jell-O shots.

  Nodding, I coordinate with his steps, staying as close to him as possible. As we approach a hallway my gaze falls on a woman dancing by herself in the corner. She has a margarita glass in her hand and is spilling her drink everywhere as she shimmies her hips to the music. As her head tips back, her hair moves and each strand forms a head. It looks like she has snakes in her hair; like she’s Medusa. My eyes widen as one of the snakes hisses in my direction and I gasp. Holy shit.

  “Gemma,” Alex’s voice rises over my thoughts as he squeezes my hand.

  I blink and her hair doesn't look like snakes anymore, but long, black locks of hair. I divert my concentration to Alex.

  He’s watching me inquisitively. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, suddenly aware that nothing can help me escape the hallucinations, nightmares and daydreams. They’re going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Or until I finally go off the deep end and get locked up.

  Alex’s eyes are locked on me as he backs the rest of the way to the hallway, leading me along with him and, again, I feel safe. I walk with him, step-by-step, maneuvering through the people effortlessly, and I’m temporarily put into a state of euphoria. He doesn’t look away until we reach the end and he opens a door, pulling me inside after him before shutting the door. It’s quiet. And mellow. And normal.

  “What exactly are they smoking out there?” I inquire as I examine the small room. There is a queen-size bed, covered with a black comforter, and the walls are red just like the lighting flowing from the ceiling and everywhere else in the house.

  Alex starts opening the drawers of one of the dressers and digging through them. “Who knows? Maybe Peyote.”

  I’m not sure if he’s being serious or not. “I thought I saw something weird.”

  His chin tips up and there’s an inquisitive look on his face. “Like what?”

  I shrug and my hands fall to my side and I sit down on the bed. The springs creak below my weight. “A woman with snakes for hair.”

  He lets out a soft laugh as he shuts the drawer. “Don’t worry. As long as you don’t see anyone with fangs, we’re fine. Or a guy with a snake tattoo on his neck. If you see someone with that, then we’d need to run.”

  Did he inhale some of the peyote? “Um… what?”

  He winks at me and dimples appear as he smiles. “Relax, he’s not supposed to be here, even though it’s his house.” He shucks off his coat before he places his hand on the wall.

  “What would happen if he was here?” I wonder as he runs his fingers along the wall.

  Drawing his elbow back, he raises his fist beside his head. “Then, he’d probably try to kill me.” With one swift swing, he hammers his hand through the wall. Sheetrock crumbles, breaking off and falling to the floor as I jump to my feet.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss. “You just punched a hole into someone’s wall!”

  He shakes his hand and dusts bits of debris off his knuckles. “Obviously.”

  I kick a large chunk of wall out of the way and step up beside him. “But, what about snake tattoo guy?”

  Standing on his toes, he snakes his arm into the hole. “I already told you he isn’t supposed to be here. Besides, he may try to kill me, but it doesn’t mean he can.” He draws his arm back and there’s something silver clutched in his hands.

  I move forward and lean over to get a better look. “What’s that?”

  He quickly stuffs it into his pocket. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  I cross my arms and step back. “You drag me up to a party where people are smoking peyote and there’s a guy that may want to kill you. You punch a hole in the wall and take out something, but I shouldn’t worry about it?”

  He stares at me musingly. “I didn’t drag you out here. You came of your own freewill.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but he’s right. “Fine, you’re right. Can we go now?”

  His gaze never wavers from me. “Do you want to go? Or do you want to stay he
re a little longer… with me?”

  “I…” Why can’t I answer that question?

  His eyes flicker to the bed and then settle back on me. The starvation in his eyes both pulls me and pushes me away. I’m afraid, yet curious of what will happen and where the night will take me if I dare to do something out of the norm. “We could hang out here for a while.”

  “What about snake tattoo guy?” My voice squeaks and I clear my throat. “What if he shows up and tries to kick your ass?”

  “Again, he can try,” he says with a grin and reduces the already limited space between us. “But it doesn’t mean he can.”

  The defensive wall I’ve built around myself slowly crumbles. “Okay.”

  His eyebrows arch in surprise. “Okay? You want to stay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I want to stay.”

  Again, he glances at that damn bed. What is he thinking? I sure as hell know what I’m thinking and it requires a lot of time on that bed. “I’m going to go get us something to drink.” He speaks slowly as he steps back. “Wait here.”

  “I thought you said not to drink anything offered to me?”

  His lips quirk as he opens the door. “That excludes me.” Before I can respond, he walks out and shuts the door.

  I collapse on the bed, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’ve been holding. What am I doing here with a guy I barely know? I have a feeling the night is only going to result in trouble, yet, I don’t seem to give a shit.

  I roll on my back and stare up at the cracks in the ceiling. I start counting each one as my nerves begin to short-circuit through my blood, taking each limb over and ultimately my heart. The prickle stabs at the back of my neck and I feel out of control and helpless, then I feel nothing. A numbing sensation takes me over and my body starts to sink into the mattress. Immobility consumes each nerve. I’m paralyzed and as the images form in front of my face, all I can do is watch as my spirit detaches from my body. I float away into the ceiling and, seconds later, darkness immerses me.

  ***

  When my feet touch the ground again, I’m standing in the middle of a field. The night sky is covered with stars and there are crickets chirping from the grass. The air smells like lilacs and the warm breeze caresses my cheeks. A feeling of peace has overtaken me and I stroll through the grass with no direct destination.

  If I had one wish in my life, I’d wish that I could stay and feel this way forever. Content and weightless with no worry or sorrow of the past. No confusion about life or how I feel. It’s right then that I realize just how lonely and discontent I am. How empty I feel even though I’m a bundle of emotions. I’ve never lived, never loved, never done anything.

  Moments later the feeling is stolen away with a gust of wind. I turn around and the tall grass hisses at my legs. In the distance of the land, two figures surface. One is tall and the other is very short. They are holding hands and step slowly as if they are savoring the moments of their journey.

  “We’re almost there,” the tall figure says. It’s one of the loveliest voices I've ever heard from a woman; not too high or too low. She wears a dress and her long hair dances in the wind. I wonder what she looks like, but as she gets closer, I realize her face is obscured and distorted with a haze.

  The shorter figure’s face is also distorted, but I see that she has a skip to her walk, like she is happy to be here. “I’m so excited!”

  “I know you are, honey,” replies the woman, swaying her arms and giving the little girl a swing. “And you should be. There is a lot to be excited about right now.”

  I watch them with fascination. Who are they? Deep down it feels like I know the answer, but my mind can’t quite connect it together, like it’s missing a piece of the puzzle.

  I remain motionless in the field as they near me. I start to lift my hand to wave at them when they get close enough, but they walk by me as if I’m nonexistent, as if I’m a ghost. Maybe I’ve died back on the bed in the cabin and this is the afterlife?

  “Hello,” I call out, trailing after them.

  Neither of them flinches nor makes any move that tells me they heard me as they continue on with their conversation. I speed up and chase after them. They stop beside a large oak tree that stretches to the dark sky. The moonlight glimmers across their faces and the only details I can make out about them are that they have long hair and fair complexions.

  “Here we go. This spot is perfect.” The woman raises her hand to the sky and points at the stars. “See that one right there?”

  The little girl’s head tilts up. “Yeah, I see it, Mama.”

  “That one’s yours,” the mother tells her. “That spot right there.”

  “It belongs to you,” the mother continues, sadness filling her voice. I wonder if my own mother ever talked to me like this when I was a baby. Did she love me? Did she want to make me happy? I only had a year with her and I can’t remember a single aspect or detail, nothing.

  “For forever?” the girl asks, spinning in a circle with her arms out and her head tipped back as she basks in the moment.

  “I hope not,” she replies sadly and picks up the girl.

  The girl throws her arms around her mother and they hug each other as if nothing else in the world matters. It’s a feeling I will never understand. I shut my eyes, no longer able to bear something I wish I had, but know I never will. I may be able to feel now, but that doesn’t mean I can travel through the past and have moments like these with my mother. I know this. Somehow I know that my life will be short, that I’ll be very lonely, and that when it all ends, I’ll only have myself.

  Chapter 7

  When I open my eyes, I’m lying on my back on the bed at the cabin, no longer staring at the ceiling, but at Alex’s worried face above me. My arms rest lifelessly out to my side and, for a moment, I can’t move. When Alex places his hand on my cheek, the connection launches a zap to my heart and brings my body back to life.

  I gasp for air as my lungs expand and I urgently reach for my eyes to wipe away the tears that are streaming down my cheeks. Alex leans back, giving me room. My body aches in objection as I sit up, blinking my burning eyes.

  I don’t look at him, but I can feel him watching me. “I think I should go home,” I say, smearing away the last of my tears onto the sleeve of my shirt.

  “You’re crying.” He leans forward and tips his head, moving into my line of vision. His eyes scan my face. “You’re really crying.”

  I swing my legs off the bed, attempting to stand, but my muscles are taut and I fall right back down. “People cry all the time. It’s part of life.”

  “Yeah, but usually people cry when they’re upset or when something horrible happens to them.” His eyes roam to the window and he stares at the silhouettes of the trees. “Did something horrible or sad happen to you?”

  I shake my head, but it feels like I’m lying as vague memories press at my mind. Even though I’ve never been able to feel it until now, my life hasn’t been a walk in the park. I basically raised myself since I could walk, cooking dinner for myself by the age of six when I could read the instructions to the microwave dinners. I walked myself to the bus stop in the below zero weather. I sat in my room countless times, staring at the wall and wondering what I was supposed to do with myself because everything felt pointless. There isn’t a single picture of me because no one has ever wanted one enough to take it. I’m told all the time that I’m not wanted. Is all this considered horrible?

  He smoothes my hair out of my eyes, tensing as our skin comes into contact. “You blacked out. It took me forever to wake you up.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie and try to get to my feet again, but my legs give out again and I collapse back onto the bed, giving up.

  His tense expression alleviates and his voice is soft, begging. “Gemma, there’s obviously something bothering you, so just tell me what it is.”

  “It’s called life.” I meet his eyes. “Now, would you please take me home? I feel sick.”

&n
bsp; He shakes his head. “You were fine when I left the room. What the hell happened?”

  I was fine when he left, and then I wasn’t. Just like when I was working at the library. Then he showed up and then left, leaving me numb. A realization clicks inside my head: what if it is him that is making me feel this way, or the absence of him anyway? “Who are you?”

  His expression shifts as he looks at me like I’m crazy, making me feel small and insignificant. “I’m Alex.” He speaks to me like I’m a moron.

  I kneel up on the bed, trying to gain some confidence against his overbearing gaze. “I know what your name is, but what I’m wondering is, who you are as a person?”

  His eyes never leave me. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  “But, why?”

  It’s like a game to him. A fucking mind game. “Because ever since I met you, things in my life have gotten a little… weird.”

  He chews on his lip, unflustered. “Weird how?”

  “You know what, let’s just go.” I start to get up, but his fingers snag my elbow and he yanks me back down on the bed.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why you were crying.” He rolls on his hip, forces me on my back, and traps me beneath him.

  Longing swells through my body and I bite my lip hard to suppress a moan. “Get off me.”

  He shakes his head as he transfers his weight so that my legs are confined underneath him and our bodies touch strategically, chest-to-chest, leg-to-leg. “Fight all you want, you can’t do anything about it. I’m the one in control here.” He pauses as I scowl and our chests brush as we breathe in sync. “Now, please, will you just calm down and tell me why you’re flipping out? I thought I was doing well with the whole douche bag thing.”

  “You were.” I swallow hard from the feel of his breath stroking against my cheeks and the way my nipples brush against his chest every time I take a breath. I’ve never been this physically close to anyone and my mind is racing with anxiety, anger and a craving to touch him everywhere. It’s too much. I’m going into an emotional overload and it feels like I’m going to combust. I try to wiggle my arms between us, but he seizes my arms and lures them above my head.