Cherry doesn't sleep and Mia will behead people for Cadillac. I totally see where this is going.
Apology- FFN/FicCentral notifications are acting totally wacky. I apologize on their behalf. KniNut and I have a plan to attack. With torches. We meet at 5 if anyone's interested.
Readers- This is where you and I part ways. In my defense, I gave you clues. But I'll be in the back of Cadillac's caddy. Ya know, hiding...
Chapter Thirteen: Bullets and Begging
I breathe.
He stares.
He slowly stands up.
All I want to do is die.
"Bella…"
I don't like the way he says my name.
It's Dimples, I want to say. Call me Dimples.
"Get out."
Cadillac reaches out for me but I snatch my arm back. I don't want to be touched. I want him to leave. I want him to not look at me the way he is, with worried eyes and a tortured soul.
"Bella, we can talk about-"
I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about anything. I want him to leave. My tears are salty, but it's his love I can taste on the tip of my tongue.
And it's bitter.
"Please," he whispers, and I hear his begging ringing through my ears. I jump up, throwing whatever I can from my vanity table.
"Get out! Get the fuck out!" Hairspray. Compact Mirror. Make up brushes. They're all flying in his direction, and I'm angry he's making me do this.
Angry that he thought I was stronger than I appeared.
He reaches out again, bulletproof to my ammunition. So I scream, as loud as I can, falling to the floor with my hands covering my ears. It's deafening, and by the time I glance up, he's gone.
I break down sobbing. I hate this. I hate his accusations with every fiber of my being. Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to discover my secret? Why couldn't he just let it be?
Cadillac reappears in the room, and I look on in defeat as he drops three large trash bags in front of me. He rips them open, the garbage falling all over the floor.
In both our views are the evidence of all my sins.
"I love you, Bella."
He looks at me with sympathy, and now I'm not the only one crying. His face is red, desperation and concern flowing through his tears.
He kicks a liquor bottle, one of many, in my direction and leaves.
And all I can think about is how much I need a drink.
...
This time, I can't breathe.
I rock and it's there and I rock and it's gone.
I imagine them and him and him and me.
I see the car and how it swerves.
I see the car and why it swerves.
But I make it go away.
The whiskey makes me forget.
The vodka makes me remember.
The tequila makes me shake.
The rum keeps me still.
I hate her, this reflection of a girl who stares at me with mascara running down her face. I hate that she's speaking. That girl, she doesn't know shit. She's fucking yelling not to run, but I can't stop.
That's all I got, this running and escaping. I can't keep it together anymore. My skin bleeds as I claw and scratch off these layers that don't belong to me.
I scream, throwing the rum bottle at the mirror. It crashes, shattering into a million pieces.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I don't like the girl, how she talks to me. How she tells me to be strong, but judges me for being weak. How blotchy her face is. How her tears stream, red with blood, mixed with hurt, and blended with pain.
I taste the blood and it's wretched. I hate how it runs down my arms. How it's hope and dreams and love. How it's hate and anger and jealousy.
How it's Cadillac and Dimples. How it's him and me.
...
The girl in the mirror falls asleep, but she has a dream and Cadillac is there.
"You can't live like this."
His breathing is erratic, like he's struggling too.
"You lied. You made me believe your mama was an alcoholic… how did I not know?"
He's all blame and full of guilt. Complete remorse and selfless responsibility.
"You're my Dimples… look at you falling, baby bird."
He sobs, his shoulders heaving withthe weight of his burdens.
Wet lips press against her temple, and she hates that mouth. She hates the way her coddles her, the way he whispers how he's there. How he'll never leave.
She hates how he gets up, cleaning up the garbage from the floor. There's some rum left, but he takes it away. When he returns, the bottle is empty.
She watches him get all of the bottles and throw them in bags. She sees how he removes drawers from her dresser, finding her secret spot. The wine is trashed, and so is her love for him.
He's found it all, even the whiskey disguised in a perfume bottle.
She hates this nightmare, how he knows everything about her. How he changes her clothes and washes her face. How he brushes her hair and tucks her beneath warm blankets.
But most of all, she hates him.
...
"Mornin'."
The voice beside me is raspy, and every sound causes my head to throb incessantly.
My eyes are barely open, but two outreached hands stretch in front of my face. They hold several white pills and a glass of water. I take them without asking questions.
I lie for several minutes longer, getting adjusted to the light coming through the window. I finally peek beside me, where Cadillac sits with his legs stretched out.
He's wearing the same clothes as the day before, and I have a nagging suspicion he never went home. Instinctively, I panic, hoping Mama isn't around, but I don't hear her on the opposite side of the closed door.
"She left you a message," Cadillac answers, reading my thoughts. "She'll be home this afternoon."
I want to ask a million questions, like why is he here? Why hasn't he left? Instead, I slowly sit up, placing my feet on the warm floor. It's too hot in here. Pajamas I never put on are sticking to my body.
I can't bear to look at him, so I march to the bathroom. I need a shower. On the sink is a single wildflower.
It's the prettiest one yet.
.
.
.
"Walk with me."
I surrender, the fight to argue too much after an exhausting night. I follow him to the woods behind my house, stepping on broken branches from trees that died a long time ago.
He finds an abandoned log and sits, patting the empty spot beside him.
"How long?"
Too long.
I plead with fidgeting hands not to ask. I can't. Not now. Not ever.
He brushes my hair back and it hurts, like he's bruising me with soft caresses and tender hands.
I don't answer and he sighs.
"Bella-"
"Don't call me that." It's the first words I've spoken since I woke up. That's not my name.
Say what you said before. Call me what you love.
"I don't want you hiding from me, Dimples. I want you to be honest."
He's doing it again; breaking me when I'm already broken. Like I'm not already hollow from the inside. Like everything within me ain't already gone.
"Is this 'cause your dad left? I mean, I understand if-"
My anger rises as I stand up, wobbling on unstable feet. "You understand? You don't understand shit, Cadillac! When has your daddy ever left you? When has your daddy ever forgotten a birthday, or didn't even give you a gift on Christmas? You ever been without food, rich boy? You ever seen your mama get fucked in the back of a club by a married man? Don't you fucking dare tell me you get it or that you know what I'm going through!"
He's making me ache as I clench my fists at my sides.
"You're being selfish and unreasonable. You're not the only one who's suffered!"
And just like that, I explode. "Why? 'Cause you stole a few cars and your daddy bailed you out?"
He doesn't curse, but it's right on the edge of his tongue. He wants to scream at me like I'm screaming at him. We keep jerking on one another, and eventually someone's going to fall.
"Say it. Tell me you love drinkin' more than me, Dimples, and I'll fucking leave. Say it. Tell me you don't love me enough to stop."
The clock ticks as seconds roll by. His green eyes, full of hurt and rage, pierce into my own, threatening me to make a decision.
I love him.
I love how he makes me feel.
I love how he's always there for me.
I love how he's warm and I love how he doesn't judge.
I'll love him until the day I die.
But my love's name is not Cadillac.
He's Jack Daniels, and I've always loved him more.
And so I walk away, not saying a single word.