Page 34 of Lay Me Down
Images of her tear-streaked face flash into my mind, and then the memory from this morning breaks through as well. They clash together like oil and water, kept apart like the same ends of a magnet. Just out of reach.
The rough burn suddenly turns into a warm plush, and then it’s over in an instant as my back hits something solid and rough. Harsh cracking breaks along my entire torso, and I yell out once I finally fall back to whatever softness is now beneath me. I try to breathe, but suddenly, the small space in the helmet isn’t big enough, and it’s hot. Way too hot.
As I reach up to knock the helmet off, I scream again, feeling the piercing pain and burn from my shoulders as it shoots through my limbs. Footsteps approach me, and while the pain is insurmountable, I’m relieved to see that at least one of the drivers stopped. They help me take the helmet off, and I grit my teeth as they roll me onto my back.
The guy standing over me is wearing a burnt orange and black plaid shirt, and is shiny bald. Poking out from the shirt is a tattoo on his neck, and before I get a chance to make out what it is, he turns away and reaches for something.
I go to speak, but find that even pulling in a breath is difficult. With every inhale, the pain returns. It’s like someone took my muscles in their hands and decided to stretch them to test the limits. With a grunt and forced breath, I extend my arm out towards the stranger.
“I need to call my wife, please…” I manage to choke out as I watch him pull his phone up to his ear, probably calling for an ambulance. She’s going to be terrified. She needs to know I didn’t do this on purpose. That I would never intentionally leave her. I have every intention of keeping my promise, and something like a motorcycle crash isn’t going to make me break it.
Everything around me starts to fade as I struggle to breathe, but I don’t miss the void look in his eyes as he glares back down at me. He’s not scared. He’s not worried. If anything? He looks accomplished with his blank stare—like whatever this is, it’s exactly what was supposed to happen.
“Target acquired,” he says in a weird, stoic tone. He clearly has a Russian accent, and my heart sinks. My hand falls to my chest, and a pained groan forces its way out of my mouth at the discomfort. “The distraction crew is already in place. We’re moving out.” He hangs up without a second thought, and I wince at a pinch on the side of my neck. I can’t see his other hand, but I don’t miss the way his face doesn’t even twitch as the world fades around me.
Chapter 14
Ashia
‘Can We Kiss Forever’ – Kina, Adriana Proenza
We pull into the garage, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be home. Well, that’s an exaggeration. But after today? A night home cuddling in bed is exactly what I need. Zeke has been silent the entire ride over, and I know he’s upset with me. I don’t want to make him angry, but he needs to understand how serious this is. This is his damn life we’re talking about, and while he may not care, the ones that love him do. I don’t know how to make him see that—how to make him give a sliver of a shit about himself.
After I cut the car off, I turn to look at him before he has the chance to burst out of the car.
“Zeke?”
As if my voice alone angers him, he flings his seatbelt off and turns to face me. His lips are tight, and I can tell by the dark look in his eyes that he’s fed up with all of this.
“I know you’re sick of being treated like a kid,” I say flatly because honestly, I’m bothered by all of this as well. “But you need to understand that we’re just trying to do what’s best for you. You’re my older brother, and you almost left me. I know that’s selfish as hell, especially after the way I’ve treated you, but I don’t care. I’ve been stubborn, and annoying, and not knowing you more is completely my fault, but I’m going to do better now.” I pause to try and get a gauge on his feelings—if anything I’m saying meansanythingto him. “I know you miss Taylor… and I can’t even begin to imagine the pain that you’re in, but you’re not alone. We care about you so much, and we want to help you, but we can’t if you don’t let us.”
“I’m not taking those fucking meds, Ash. And you’re right. I’m sick of being constantly watched over like I’m a danger to everyone around me.” He sticks his hand out in the air and jerks it with every word, showing his aggravation.
“We’re not looking at you like that. We’re looking at you like you’re a danger to yourself! Because you are! What if we let you go back to work, and you decide to run into a gun fight? Or what if I give you a normal knife for dinner and not some flimsy piece of plastic and you decide to slit your wrists open? What if I leave you alone for too long, and when I come back, I find you hanging from the ceiling again? What then?!” I shout, and immediately regret it.
We sit in silence for what feels like eternity, just staring at each other through a veil of sorrow. I look deeply into his eyes, ones that I've tried like hell to avoid, and I don't understand why anymore. There isn't anyone I see in them anymore, other than my brother. My father's image doesn't linger there any longer, and it doesn't hurt to examine his features. I have to bite my lip and turn away as the feelings of despair consume me again. All I can think of is him at the end of that rope. The moment hiseyes fluttered closed. How I stared desperately at his chest and begged for movement.
“I do miss Taylor…” he finally says softly, pulling me from the memory. “Every breath I take feels like I stole it. It was supposed to be me. Itshould’vebeen me…”
“Zeke, you can’t think like that.” I turn and look back at him. He shakes his head in tiny movements and clenches his jaw.
“I was supposed to get up that morning and make breakfast. It was my turn… I promised her that I would,” he continues, speaking so softly that it’s like he’s afraid of his own words. “I was just so tired that night, and because Taylor was too fucking sweet, and too fucking good for me, she let me sleep in. If I would’ve just gotten the fuck up, and done what I promised…it would’ve been me…”
I reach over and grab his hand, then squeeze him so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Surprisingly, he squeezes my hand back, and while he isn’t letting any tears fall yet, I see them welling in his eyes.
“This is not your fault, Zeke. You didn’t poison the water supply. This never should’ve happened.”
“But it did,” he continues. “And now I have to find a way to live with it. I didn’t want to. It hurt too fucking much. But then I saw your face when you walked in, and it was like that whole damn building collapsed on top of me…” He squeezes my hand a little tighter, so I do the same, just as firmly. “Then I thought of my parents. My mom, especially. D, Carter, Alex, and everyone else, and all I remember thinking when everything went black was that I fucked up…”
I reach across the middle console and drape my arm around his shoulders—much like he did for me last night. He accepts it by wrapping one of his around my back, and we just hug each other. We stay like that for a few moments, and relief courses through me. I know how selfish that sounds too, but at least he’stalking. He’s opening up, and I’ll take his feelings of regret as a small win.
“I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live either. I feel like I don't deserve it,” he confesses softly. “I don’t know how to navigate in limbo.”
I pull back and grip his hand again.
“We’ll travel through it with you. Okay? I may not know exactly how you feel, but I do know that.” I pat his hand once and then wipe my eyes with the pad of my thumb to stop myself from crying. He gently pulls his hand away and runs the bottom of his shirt over his face—seemingly doing the same. Then, after a deep breath, he looks back at me.
“I’m still not taking those pills,” he says with a tiny, sly smirk, and opens the car door. I just shake my head and get out, too.
