Take My Hand (15 page)

“What a jerk,” one of them insulted as
they made there way out. But once they were gone they instantaneously became
insignificant.

“Dexter what the hell is going on with
you?” I asked – a mixture of concern and anger flooding my veins. He
laughed in my face before taking another swig from his bottle of beer.

“Give me that,” I ordered, reaching for
the bottle. I jumped back, for the first time feeling afraid of him when he
threw it violently against the wall, smashing it into a thousand shards. I was
stunned into a nervous silence and all I could do was watch as he walked over
to the kitchen area and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the counter.

“Please, Dexter…” I begged him, too
scared to get any closer to him.

“Please what? Please stop being a worthless
piece of shit?” He screwed the cap off the whiskey and downed a sizeable gulp.
“Please stop fucking up everything and everyone who’s ever meant anything to
me?” He took another gulp. “Please stop scaring you?” And another. “Well I
can’t, Emily! Because this is who I am!” he yelled at me and I shrank back a
few steps when I saw the veins in his neck bulging under the pressure of his
words.

“I’m a fucking monster!” he blared,
throwing the whiskey across the room and making it smash against the coffee
table.

“Please,” I whimpered. “Stop shutting me
out.” He laughed sardonically.

“How can I shut you out when I never let
you fucking in?”

“J-just talk to me, Dexter,” I stuttered
nervously. “I-I know this isn’t you.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME!” he
roared. “I destroy people! I ruin
everything
! And if you don’t get the fuck out of my life right now I’ll destroy
you too!”

He picked up a mug from the counter and
threw that too. Then he reached for a plate and did the same. I gasped and
dodged and screamed at him to stop but it was like he couldn’t even see me.
Determined in his quest, he repeated the process with all the crockery in his
immediate vicinity and then stormed over to the other side of the room and
started kicking the furniture – never relenting until everything in the
room was either broken or lying on its side.

Feeling utterly out of my depth and more
terrified than I’ve ever been in my life I reached into my pocket for my phone
and started to scroll through my phonebook until I stopped on Jared. Then, just
before I hit call, Dexter collapsed to the floor. Without hesitation I rushed
to his side and crouched down beside him. His body was crumpled into itself and
he had his head hidden between his knees, rocking back and forth and tearing at
his hair with his trembling fingers.

“Help me, Emily. Please God somebody
fucking help me,” he cried – his entire body starting to shudder.
Instinctive I wrapped my body around his and rocked back and forth with him.

“I don’t know how,” I cried with him.
“Tell me what to do.” He couldn’t answer me as the violent sobs wracked through
his body. Not knowing what else to do, I just held him. I swayed with him. I
shushed him. I cried with him.

After an hour or so his rigid body
started to thaw. He was growing weaker by the minute until eventually we had
both rolled down until we were lying on the bare floor. I gently, cautiously
tilted his head until he was facing me and watched as his blinks became less
frequent and eventually they stopped opening all together. Unable to stop
myself once he was asleep I pushed aside the floppy fringe obscuring his eyes
and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose.

“It’s getting nearer, doll,” he murmured
unconsciously. “I’m losing her,” were the last three words I heard from him
that night.

Dexter

I
was almost
surprised when I opened my eyes and discovered I wasn’t in fact lying under a
giant fucking truck with my head caved in. I was on my living room floor with a
feather pillow tucked under my throbbing head and a blanket draped over my
aching body. The rancid stench of me wafted up my nose making me want to hurl
when I rose tentatively from the floor.

Needing to pee, I made my way to the
bathroom. Then I almost shit my pants when the squeal of a naked woman trying
to cover herself up with a hand towel pierced my very delicate eardrums.

“Get out!” Emily blared. It was only then I
was snapped back into consciousness and realized I was just staring at her like
an utter fucking pervert.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out, slamming the
door behind me.

Fuck.

Emily.

Why was Emily naked in my apartment?

I swore in that moment if I found out I’d
had sex with her I would punch myself in the balls repeatedly until there was
no conceivable chance I’d ever be able to father children. Not Emily. I
promised myself I wouldn’t do this to her. Then again, there was no way she
wouldn’t have been able to tell I’d been drinking last night, and I just
couldn’t believe she would’ve let me go anywhere near her in the state I was
in. She respected herself too much for that. At least… I hoped she did.

The bathroom door opened a few minutes
later but I was too ashamed of myself to turn around and face her.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you. I
just needed a shower and I didn’t think you’d mind.” What the fuck? I spun
around instantly.

“
You’re
sorry?
Are you fucking kidding me? Doll, don’t you
ever
feel
the need to apologize to me. Especially after last night.” I ran my tense
fingers through my damp hair which was dripping with sweat and maybe even
vomit. Then I just stared at her – standing small and timid in some jeans
and a white shirt with her damp flame-red hair spiraling down her back –
and I had never despised myself so much in my life. “I’m such a fucking idiot,”
I muttered under my breath.

“You’re not an idiot, Dex,” she said softly
as she made her way towards me. I couldn’t move - my feet froze to the floor. I
didn’t know whether to back away or wrap my arms around her and hold her
tighter than I’d ever held anyone before. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too far
last night,” she said, curling her fingers over my forearm. Why, what did she
do? “I only realized once you were asleep that I don’t have the right to ask
you to talk to me. We don’t know each other well enough for me to expect that
of you.” She couldn’t be more wrong. She knows me better than anyone. “But I
want you to know that you
can
talk to me, and
that I will never judge you.”

This wasn’t helping with the feelings of
self-loathing. This girl was impossibly perfect – too perfect to be
dragged down by the likes of me.

“Why you still here, doll?” I asked
dejectedly – but genuinely curious.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked in a
hurt tone.

“No,” I murmured, shaking my head. “No I
don’t. It’s just… well, people don’t usually stick around,” I admitted,
shrugging sorrowfully.

“Well that’s ‘cause most people are
arseholes. And I like to think I’m
not
an
arsehole,” she replied with a shy smile. She is most definitely
not
an asshole by any stretch of the imagination. She’s fucking
amazing.

“Still, I need you to know you don’t have
to do this. You don’t have to try and save my fucked-up ass. The minute you
need to run, I’ll be the first to hold the door open for you,” I told her
honestly - even though just the thought of that happening sent painful shivers
down my aching spine.

“You should shower,” she told me, changing
the subject to something less intense. “You sort of stink.”

“There ain’t no ‘sort of’ about it. I think
my nose would rather live up a tramp’s ass than be anywhere near my body right
now.” She let out the adorable giggle I’d grown to love so much and stepped
aside for me to walk past. I headed straight for the bathroom and paused by the
doorjamb when she called after me.

“If you’re going to bring sluts home with
you, you could at least make sure they weren’t mingers,” she tried to tease but
I heard a hint of hurt filtering into her words.

Fuck.

**********

Emily was still with me when evening rolled
around. True to her word, she didn’t ask what brought on my latest relapse, and
I didn’t offer. Instead we just chatted nonsense and drank
lots
of water.

“So you and Jared. What happened there?” I
asked and hope she didn’t think it was none of my business. Of course it
wasn’t, but that didn’t stop me being interested. She let out a long sigh
before answering.

“It wasn’t his fault. My hoohaa is broken.”
Hoohaa?
“Oh crap. I can’t believe I
just said that. Sorry.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” I
reminded her. “But now you’ve said it, you know you have to elaborate right?”

“Ugh. There’s really nothing to say.”

“Let’s start with
hoohaa
?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Stop trying
to embarrass me.” No way. It was too much fun.

“No can do. You’re too cute when you’re
embarrassed, doll,” I teased her. “So, when you say broken?” Her cheeks were
burning brighter than her hair. Call me a sadist, but I was enjoying this way
too much. “You’re not telling me you’ve got a dick hiding under there are you?”
I said and then nodded my head towards her crotch, holding my gaze for a little
too long. She rolled her eyes and bit her bottom lip to keep herself from
giggling.

“If you really want to know – which
by the way is just weird – I just don’t
feel
things down there like other girls do. I’m not a virgin in
case that’s your next question, but to be honest whenever anyone’s…
been
… down there, they might as well
have been touching my elbow.” After risking eye contact with me she threw her
tiny hands over her face. “Oh God why am I even telling you this stuff!”

“Because I’m your friend,” I interjected, flashing
her a wink. “For the record, I’m almost certain your ‘hoohaa’ isn’t broken,
doll. It’s just not been paid the right kind of attention,” I stated
confidently. I’m damn sure
I
could
fix it for her.

Stop
right there, Dex.

“Hmm, maybe. Either way
you
will never know because I’m not
talking about this ever again with you!”

“Would it make you feel better if we spoke
about
my
bits and pieces? ‘Cause this
one time I had this
huge
pimple thing
on it and-”

“Eww, Dex! No. That wouldn’t make me feel
better. Ugh.” I knew that’d get her.

The conversation swiftly moved on to less
embarrassing topics – at least on Emily’s part. Like an annoying,
overly-horny teenager, I threw in inappropriate comments and innuendos whenever
I got the chance. Twelve – remember?

It was just after seven when we were
interrupted by Emily’s cell ringing. It was her brother calling to see where
she was. As much as I thought he was a douchebag I admired how much he cared
for his little sister. While they were talking it prompted me to start
wondering about her family. Where she came from, what kind of upbringing she
had…

“You never talk about your parents?” I said
like a question when she hung up on Chris.

“Neither do you,” she flipped it back on
me. I stuttered on my answer and then thankfully she saved me by continuing. “There’s
not much to tell. My dad… well he’s one of these reserved types. Doesn’t really
speak unless he’s spoken to kind of thing.”

“And your mom?”

“I’m pretty sure my mum hates me. She’d
never let anyone other than me know that of course – gotta keep up with
the Jones’.”

“That can’t be true. Why the hell would you
even think that?”

“Because she thinks I killed my sister.”

“She-” I closed my mouth again. Did I hear
her right? “She thinks
what?
”

“When I was five we were at one of her posh
friend’s garden parties. I was in charge of looking after Olivia – she
was two.” She squeezed her eyes closed and drew in a deep, lingering breath. I
shifted closer to her and took her hand in mine, clutching it gently. “They had
a pond. A really big one with frogs in it. Livvie tripped and fell in when I
wasn’t looking. I heard the splash and when I turned around she was waving her
arms about. I-I…”

I watched, heartbroken as a lone tear
trickled desolately down Emily’s cheek. Instinctively, I brought her hand up to
my mouth and grazed her knuckles with my lips.

“I thought she was playing. I didn’t
understand what was happening. I could swim – I thought
everyone
could swim. But then she
stopped waving. She stopped blinking. She stopped…moving. I jumped in after her
the second I realized what was happening but… but I was too late.”

“Jesus Christ, doll.” Just then it slapped
me in the face – the beach. The fear in her eyes when I threatened to
lower her into the water… it wasn’t fear. It was recollection. She was
re-living it all over again. I know that feeling too well and I had no choice
but to envelop her in my arms and hold her tightly against my chest.

“Soon after the screams started. I was
being dragged from the water and all I could hear were cries, and screams, and
yelling… I don’t remember anything else after that.” There were no words in the
world to follow that. So I held her tighter, resting my cheek against the top
of her head. “My mum blames me.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t,” was all I could
think to say.

“She does. She’s told me on more than one
occasion.”

“Well that’s bullshit! You were five years
old for fuck’s sake.” The mother should’ve been looking after
both
of them in the first place.
Obviously I’d never met Emily’s mom but I already hated her. Emily just
shrugged, resigning herself to what her shit excuse for a mother thought of
her.

“You don’t believe her right?” I had to
make sure.

“I guess not,” she said too unconvincingly
for my liking. “You know I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Rachel.”

Wow. Honored doesn’t even come into it.

“Snickers doesn’t know you had a sister?” I
asked in disbelief.

“Snickers?”

Shit.

“Yeah. It’s kinda what I used to call her
in my head before I knew her name and it sort of stuck. You know ‘cause she’s
fuckin’ nuts?” At last – a giggle. Though I wasn’t naïve enough to think
it would last long.

“Well she never uses
your
name either so I guess you’re even. Anyway, no. She doesn’t
know. Obviously Chris does, but he’s never told anyone either as far as I know.
To be honest I try to forget about it. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No, doll. It makes you a person who’s
trying her hardest to
live
. A person
who feels a shit load of guilt and is trying to get past it the only way you
know how.”

“You think I’m guilty?”

“Hell no. I said you
feel
guilty. It’s written all over you. Even before you told me
what you just did I
knew
there was
something going on behind those big blue eyes of yours. There’s a… I don’t
know, a
heaviness
to them – a
darkness. Sometimes it’s like you’re looking at me but not seeing me –
like you’re someplace else where no one’s allowed to go with you.”

I know guilt well enough to recognize it
instantly when I see it. And the fucker had definitely claimed Emily – I
could see it crawling out of those troubled blue eyes as she re-lived the worst
day of her life.

Guilt.

It’s a form of cancer. It starts small
– just a twinge deep inside your stomach. But then it multiplies. It
spreads. It starts eating you alive until it’s claimed every part of you and
your entire being begins the process of shutting down. It’s a selfish
motherfucking disease that won’t ever rest until it’s left you alone and broken
with only the pain it causes you for company.

The worst thing is, it attacks the innocent
– like Emily. This girl is one of the sweetest damn creatures ever to
breath in this twisted world and she sure as hell doesn’t deserve to be taken
down by that malignant fucking tumor.

But then sometimes, I look into my own eyes
in the mirror, and I’m reminded that there’s always an exception to every rule.
Sometimes it gets it right. Sometimes… it attacks those who truly deserve it.

“Wow. Deep much?” she tried to tease,
presumably in an effort to lighten the tense atmosphere weighing down on us,
but there wasn’t a hint of true humor in her smile.