Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
There is a flashback in this chapter, which will shed a little light on what happened with Kurt.
Making your bed and laying in it, was probably one of the worst things ever.
I hated that stupid saying, with the fierceness of a thousand burning suns, but it was true.
When you were disappointed or saddened by something you had no control over, it was easier to let it go, but when it was something that you did to yourself, it was so much harder to deal with.
And this mess with Sam was all my fault. Sure, it took two to tango, and it took one to get plastered, but it was me who hid the truth of that night, a year ago.
I betrayed his trust.
To some, it might not be seen as a big deal, but it was to Sam. Honesty was everything to him.
San stopped by during my shift Thursday night, right before I took my break. One look at me, and she knew what was up. Or maybe it was her super-stripper powers.
Grabbing a basket of fries from the kitchen, we hid out in the office.
She hoisted herself up onto Ryder's desk, which made me smile, in spite of how crappy I felt.
Her dress, if one could call the shirt a dress, did not cover her ass when she sat down.
"Tell me everything," she ordered, holding the basket of fries.
I sat beside her and told her what went down. I trusted her, so I gave her all the details. Well, I didn't go into that much detail, about how I was gripping the headboard Tuesday morning. That wasn't a necessary part of the conversation.
When I was finished, she had already consumed half of the fries.
"Honey buns, here's the thing. There's a whole lot of could've and should've, that has gone on. You can't change the past, and let's be honest, you didn't drown a kitten."
I made a face.
"Stop beating yourself up over it, Chica. You know you did wrong. But you apologized and you meant it."
Handing over the basket, she hopped off the desk and stood in front of me, hands on her hips.
"If Trouty can't get over that, then he's truly not worth your time. And I mean that, in the most non cliché way possible."
I popped the last fry into my mouth and then placed the basket aside.
"I know, but I like him..."
"You love him," she corrected, throwing herself on the leather couch against the wall.
Rolling my eyes, I waved my hand dismissively, even though my heart turned over heavily.
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Why else have you been crying since Tuesday, if you don't love him?"
I cut her a narrowed look.
"Because, I like him a lot. I've liked him for a long time. And we were friends and now it's ruined. And I haven't been crying since Tuesday." At her look of doubt, I scowled. "Not the entire time."
She arched a brow.
"Okay. First thing you need to do, is stop lying to yourself. Just admit, that you've been in love with him for ages. There's nothing wrong with that." When I opened my mouth, she raised a hand. "Secondly, fuck him. Not literally, unless he comes around, but like I said, if he doesn't get over this, it's on him, not you."
Nodding, I tucked my hair back behind my ears, as I slipped off the desk. I actually got what she was saying.
"Marley and Suzy are coming up next weekend. The four of us need to get together and get shitfaced," San announced, rising from the couch like a goddess, who was summoned. "Like, we need to get stupid drunk, talk about how stupid boys are, and then wake up wishing we never see another bottle of liquor."
"Okay," I mumbled.
"Like, as drunk as the night before Marls left us," she continued, and I cringed, knowing where she was heading with this. "Remember? You were convinced that one of those plastic closet organizers, could hold your weight?"
"It did hold my weight," I said crossly.
She threw her head back and hooted with laughter.
"Yeah, for like thirty seconds. You shoved yourself into that damn thing, with your legs touching your chest."
"You zipped me up!"
"And that thing broke and I thought you broke your ass, but then, I remembered, you have more padding than the average woman."
I rolled my eyes, but I did thought I'd broke my ass. So did Marley and Suzy, which reminded me of how grateful I was, that I hadn't broken anything, because, none of the girls could stop laughing long enough, to make sure I was even alive.
Fucking tequila.
San bounced her Latina self forward and hugged me, squeezing me so tight, I thought I'd pop.
"It'll be okay. He's going to come around," she said.
I hugged her back.
"You think so, or are your superpowers telling you this?"
She giggled as she pulled away.
"Call it feminine intuition."
I cocked a brow.
"Really?"
"Yep." She flounced to the door. "I've got to go drop it like it's hot, and yes, this is hot." Smacking her ass, she laughed. "Peace out, homie homes."
A smile pulled at my lips.
San was...she was different and she was awesome.
Straightening my glasses, I told myself not to do it, but before I left the room, I grabbed my purse out of the cabinet and pulled out my phone.
The small smile faded from my lips.
There was a missed text, but it was from Sean, and seeing it, really knocked my feet out from under me.
Besides the fact that the last time we spoke, I'd hung up on him, it was the same message I'd sent Sam earlier and had received no response from.
Hey.
I let out a shaky breath as sadness swelled.
Holy crap! I was the female version of Sean right now, texting someone, who was so not interested.
Had he stressed over that text, as much as I had?
He'd probably gone through three different versions, before settling on the innocuous greeting. Seeing that, truly was a kick to the chest. And my heart ached.
Slipping the phone into the back pocket of my jeans, I swallowed the cluster of tears, that were threatening to turn me into a fat, angry baby.
I needed to pull it together.
I made this mess.
Sam made his decision. And contrary to what San believed, I wasn't in love with him...she was wrong.
'Liar!'
I hadn't fallen that far for him.
'Liar!'
I hadn't fallen for anyone that hard and I never would.
'Liar!'
"Just shut up!" I mumbled at the annoying voice inside my head, which seemed to be screaming at me.
Friday afternoon, I wasn't thinking about Sam at all.
A different kind of problem had surfaced...a far more serious one than my relationship...or lack thereof.
Nurse Valerie stood beside me, at the foot of Kurt's bed, her face contorted in a sympathetic expression, that really did reach her tired eyes.
"If you need anything, you know where to find me."
Afraid to speak, all I could do was nod.
She left the room, quietly closing the door behind her, and I was stuck standing. It was like someone had pressed the pause button on life.
Kurt was back on the feeding tube.
I wanted to close my eyes, but what was the point? It didn't change what I was seeing. It wouldn't undo anything.
When I opened them up, he would still be in the same position. His life would not somehow rewind.
The pale lilac comforter, was tucked up to Kurt's slender chest, hiding everything from the shoulders down, but I knew that his hands were restrained under the blanket, secured to the bed.
I hated that, absolutely loathed that he was tied up. It seemed too inhumane and cruel, even though, I knew there was a valid reason for it.
The moment the feeding tube was hooked up, he'd started pulling at it. They did this for his own good, but it still hurt to see it.
I forced myself to the chair next to his bed and sat stiffly, placing the tote beside me.
Reaching out, I found his hand under the blanket and folded both of mine over his.
"Kurt," I whispered. "What are we going to do?"
His eyes were open, and I wished they were closed, because, there was something wrong with them. They were dull, absolutely lifeless.
I would've thought he was a mannequin, if it wasn't for the occasional blink or tremor, that coursed down his arm.
Fear clawed at me as I stared at him. Oh God, he didn't look good. I couldn't remember him ever looking this frail and sallow before.
Minutes ticked by and the only sound, was the chirping of birds outside the window and the low hum of conversation from other rooms.
There was a ball of cold dread sitting in the center of my chest, as I sat there.
This reminded me of my grandfather, who'd been sick and in hospice care, before passing away.
I was a little girl then, but I remembered my mom sitting at a bed just like this, holding my grandfather's hand and whispering to him, while he slept so deeply, I couldn't remember seeing his chest move.
This felt like that, and I couldn't shake the feeling, that we were not alone in this room. That there was a third entity...and it was death.
Scooting as close as I could get to the bed, I closed my eyes and rested my head on the pillow next to his.
"I miss you so much," I whispered thickly. "I know you know that."
Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes, as I tightened my hold on the blanket and his hand.
Who knew I could still cry so easily, after the week I had?
Maybe, I was turning into an emotional mess. And at this moment, I didn't care.
The turmoil I felt over Sam, was nothing in comparison, to how I felt now. I wanted to crawl in bed with Kurt, but I was afraid of disturbing his feeding tube.
I knew that I needed to act like nothing was wrong.
I needed to pull out one of the paintings I brought in for him...one that I had done weeks ago, and I needed to read to him. That was the normalcy of our visits.
I liked to think both of us needed that.
But as I lay there, all I could think, was about the span of minutes that had changed everything for Kurt...for me.
No matter how many years has passed, it still felt like yesterday.
It was Friday night, a few weeks after school had started and the only reason why I was at the football, game was because, Stevie was playing, which meant Sam was there, in the stands, watching his older brother play.
Kurt and I made our fifth or sixth pass, in front of the section of bleachers, Sam was sitting at, with his friends.
"Man, I think you qualify as a stalker now, just so you know," Kurt said.
I bumped him with my hip.
"It's the okay kind of stalking."
He sent me a sideways look.
"When is stalking okay?"
"When it involves Sam Evans," I quipped, giggling when Kurt rolled his eyes. "Oh whatever, you think he's hot, too."
"Can't deny that." He glanced over his shoulder, back towards where Sam sat, and then quickly faced forward. "He's looking down here."
"What?" I shrieked, as I stumbled over my own feet. I sent him a wide-eyed look. "You're lying."
Kurt grinned at me.
"No, I'm not. Look for yourself, but try not to be so freaking obvious."
"How do you not be obvious?" I muttered, but as I took another step, I made a causal attempt at looking over my shoulder and my gaze found Sam immediately, like I was some kind of hot-boy-seeking missile.
He was indeed staring down at us...at me. And he was smiling.
He had the best smile. Wide. Friendly. Uninhibited. My heart kicked around in my chest, as I started to smile back.
"Oh," Kurt said. "My bad."
At first, I didn't get what he was talking about, but then, a high-pitched shout whipped my head around.
One of the cheerleaders had shouted Sam's name.
Rising up on the tips of her white sneakers, she blew him a kiss. And my stomach dropped all the way to the tips of my toes.
I looked at Kurt and he cringed.
Sam wasn't staring at me. He wasn't smiling at me. How embarrassing.
Sighing, I picked up my pace.
"Are you ready to go?"
"I've been ready to leave since we got here," Kurt retorted. "But you had to get your stalking out of your system. And look what happened? No good comes from stalking, Mercy."
"I hate you."
He laughed, as he draped his arm over my shoulders, tugging me against his side.
"Come on. Let's head back to my place. The rents are still at the lake house and I found the key to the liquor cabinet again."
I quickly changed my mind.
"I love you."
Kurt snorted.
Ordering myself to forget about Sam, we headed out of the gated football field.
Kurt still had his arm hanging loosely over my shoulders.
"I hate coming to these things," he bitched. "Every single time we have to park out in the field. We're going to be covered in ticks."
I smiled up at the starry sky, as we trudged through the calf-high grass.
"You probably have twelve attached to your legs right now."
"Man, that's fucked up." He dropped his arm and shoved me.
Stumbling to the side, I giggled, knowing he was going to make me check his scalp, when we got to his parents' house later.
"I want to watch Never Been Kissed tonight," I said.
Even in the dark and without looking at him, I knew he rolled his eyes.
"That movie is so old, it needs to be retired."
"Never!" I yelled, as I jumped over a rock someone almost parked their truck on. "That guy is hot."
"That guy is really old now in real life," Kurt shot back.
I flipped him off.
"Don't ruin it for me."
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts, he shook his head. I could see his car, parked next to a van, that hadn't been there when we showed up.
"Hey," a voice called out. "Where are you guys heading off to?"
I twisted at my waist, looking behind us, and swallowed a groan, when I saw who it was. Patrick Karofsky. And he wasn't alone. Two friends flanked him. All three of them were in a grade higher than us.
All three were total douche bags, especially Karofsky. He was a special kind of douche bag. The kind that was good-looking and totally knew it, therefore the latter totally zeroed out the former.
"Just keep walking," Kurt said under his breath.
I didn't listen.
Facing the boys, I planted my hands on my hips.
"Nowhere you all are invited to."
Kurt muttered something as he stopped, turning around. I think he said something about my mouth getting me in trouble, but that wouldn't be the first, or last time I'd heard that.
One of Karofsky's friends laughed, and the sound grated on my nerves.
It was high-pitched, much like the cheerleader's voice, when she shrieked Sam's name. This laugh reminded me of a cat getting hit by a car.
Patrick was absolutely unfazed by my greeting. He swaggered up to where Kurt and I stood, puffing out his chest like a peacock.
"You're looking good tonight, Mercy."
I arched my brows at him.
Kurt sighed.
"I'm looking good every night." I crossed my arms over my chest.
He smirked, as his gaze crawled over me, leaving behind a sensation of ants, marching along my skin.
It really was too bad, he was such a pinhead, because, he wasn't that bad to look at.
"That's true," he agreed and passed a baleful glance at Kurt. My spine stiffened. "So, what are you doing tonight?"
"We've got..." Kurt started.
"I wasn't talking to you." Patrick cut him off, and it truly was like, I had an internal bitch-switch inside me, and he'd just flipped it into the 'on' position.
"Why don't you drop this homo and hang out with..." he went on, until I cut him off.
"Excuse me?" I saw red. "What in the fuck did you just call him?"
Kurt grabbed my arm.
"Let it go. You know there's no point in arguing with stupid," he said.
But there was no way in hell I was going to let it go...
As I pulled myself out of the events of that night, I sat back and rubbed my palms along my cheeks, just below my glasses.
Guilt coated my skin with clammy sweat.
Lowering my hands, I stared at Kurt. His head was turned just slightly, like he was looking at me, but his gaze was focused over my shoulder, at the window.
'Let it go,' he had said.
If only I had listened.
Friday night was busier than usual, with just Noah and me behind the bar, since Ryder had taken the weekend off, to visit Marley in Shepherdstown.
Despite the fact, I looked like a hot mess, with my hair pulled up in a messy bun and wearing an old tank top, that was about two sizes to too big, I was grateful the night was flying by.
Lack of sleep was catching up with me, and my already crappy mood, was somewhere between 'fuck me land' and 'fuck off town.'
As the night progressed, my mood veered sharply into 'everything sucks city.'
Normally, Sam spent Friday nights at the bar. Maybe not the whole night, but he usually showed up by ten.
His normal buds were here, at their table, but there was no sign of him, and I knew it was because of me.
Sean showed up closer to eleven, and I was hiding from dealing with him, on the other side of the bar.
Noah was blocking him, and I don't know what was said to him, to make him leave around midnight, and I really didn't care at the moment.
Yeah, everything sucked right now.
Keeping a smile plastered across my face, was harder than it should have been, as I mixed drinks and chatted with those at the bar.
Staying focused on my job, was the only thing getting me through the shift.
That, and the knowledge, there was a huge bag of nachos at home, that I was so going to make my bitch, when I got off. I was going to smother them in Swiss cheese...nuke the bastards, and go to town.
Our temporary head cook in charge, had just come back from break, when I turned to help the newest customer, who managed to squeeze in at the bar.
My mouth dropped open.
Good God, what was up with tonight?
Patrick Karofsky stood in front of me, and he looked a little better, than the last time I'd seen him. Like he might've gotten some sun. Good for him.
"I just want to talk," he said, voice barely audible over the music.
I clenched the bottle of Jack so tightly, I was surprised it didn't explode.
"I can't believe you're standing here," I said dumbly.
"I've been seeing Kurt." He leaned in, and heat swept down the back of my neck. "I know he's really bad and..."
"Don't talk about him. Don't even say his name."
I started to fling the bottle, like I had the book, but even as my hand itched to let it fly and the need to make him hurt was almost all consuming, I didn't do it.
Somehow, I had learned from the last time.
A girl waved her hand, gaining my attention. Shooting Patrick a hateful look, I took her order. Of course he was still there when I finished the cocktail.
"Please, Mercedes," he started. "I really want..."
"Do you see how many fucks I have to give, when it comes to what you want?" I circled my thumb and forefinger. "This many fucks."
Suddenly, Noah was there, hands planted on the bar top.
"I think you really need to leave," he said.
"I'm sorry." Patrick raised his hands, looking back and forth between us. "I'm not trying to cause any problems. I just want to talk to her. That's all."
Anger swelled inside me so swiftly, that when I opened my mouth, I thought I'd breathe fire.
"I don't want to see your face, let alone talk to you."
"You heard the lady," Noah said, raising his arm and pointing at the door. "Get out."
Karofsky looked like he was going to argue, but then shook his head.
Reaching down, he pulled a small white square out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. He looked me dead-on.
"Call me. Please."
I glanced down, at what turned out to be a business card, with some kind of car on it and then back at him.
But he'd already turned away, making his way through the crowd.
Before I could stop myself, I laughed. It was kind of crazy-sounding, sort of like, the noise a hyena made, before it killed something.
Noah reached for the card, but for some reason unknown to me, I grabbed it.
He arched a brow, but I shook my head, as I slipped the card into my back pocket.
He lowered his head so he could speak into my ear.
"Why?"
"I don't know," I admitted, pulling back and looking at him. "I don't know."
The rest of the shift was uneventful.
Instead of seeing Sam, who I secretly kept waiting to see come through the door, all I got was Sean, Patrick Karofsky, two drunk chicks that had puked on the floor, and a guy who offered to buy me a drink and let me give him head.
When I got home, I was too tired to worry about the weirdness, that had been going on in my apartment.
Placing my phone on the nightstand, I stripped down to my undies and unhooked the bra, leaving the tank top on, since it could've doubled as a dress.
Then, I slinked into bed, tugging the covers up to my chin.
Today sucked.
Yesterday sucked.
Tomorrow had to be better.
That's what I kept telling myself as I lay there, utterly exhausted. Tomorrow seriously had to be better.
And truthfully? When everything first happened with Kurt, it had been worse than this...the helplessness, the anger, the depression.
All of it had been raw and razor sharp.
I'd gotten through it. And I would get through whatever crap was happening right now, because, what other option did I have?
Curl up and give up?
That wasn't in my nature.
I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep, but I must've, because, I came awake all at once.
No blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I was completely alert, as I stared at the window across from my bed.
I'd been dreaming. I didn't remember what the dream entailed, but someone had been calling my name.
Stretching my legs and arms, I glanced up at the nightstand. It wasn't even five o'clock. I'd been asleep for an hour and a half tops. Fail.
I was just about to flip onto my other side, when I realized the back-light of my cell phone was on, like a text or a call had come through and it hadn't moved into sleep mode yet.
Jerking up, I snatched the cell phone, and with my heart in my throat, I hit the button.
There was only one person who could've texted or called this late. Sam.
Hope went off inside me like a cannon.
Yeah, texting or calling at almost five in the morning, wasn't the greatest thing, but it was something and it was more than nothing.
The screen came to life, and I slid the little bar, unlocking it. At first, I didn't know what I was seeing. I didn't understand it...could not wrap my head around it.
It wasn't a text or a missed call.
But then, my hand began to shake.
Unlocking the phone, had taken me to the last program in use, which should've been nothing...just the home screen.
Except. it wasn't on the home screen. It opened to my camera roll...my pictures.
And there was a picture on the screen.
A scream exploded in my stomach and crawled up my throat, but when I opened my mouth, there was no sound.
Horror had closed my throat off.
The picture on my phone, was one I could've never taken, because, it was of...me.
A picture of me sleeping.
Fear and disbelief held me immobile, as I stared at the picture of me sleeping.
Somehow I registered that this picture was from tonight, because, I could make out the dark blue straps and the pink strip that formed a bow, on the straps of my tank top.
'Oh my God!'
The fear building inside me, was like being doused with icy water. It sent my pulse racing and the only air I could get inside my lungs, was in quick, shallow breaths, as I launched off the bed.
My bare feet slipped on the hardwood floors, as I reached the bedroom door, throwing it open, and raced down the short, narrow hall.
I was at the front door, when I realized, whoever took that picture...because, it had to be a person, since I doubted a ghost could do that...could be outside.
'Oh my God!'
The person could also still be inside.
Panicked, I didn't know what to do.
Never in my life had I been in a situation like this.
I backed away from the door and then spun around, running for the bathroom.
Once inside, I locked the door and backed up, until I knocked into the toilet.
I sat down on the lid, struggling to breathe, around the crushing pressure of the fear.
Stay safe!