My Baby, My Darling.

Now I know why so many people enjoy waking up at the crack of dawn. Birds chirp. Sunlight streams in through the window. And the scent of pancakes fills the 7 a.m. air. It’s not like everything happens gradually. You’re just sitting there and all of a sudden it hits you all at once. Even though there are fucked up things in the world, there are mornings like these where here’s no crying and no screaming. There’s just the world doing it’s thing and moving on, like none of the bullshit happened.

Or maybe I’m delirious. I’ve been up all night. Nicole fell asleep sometime around 3 a.m. But I haven’t slept. I’ve been sketching, something I haven’t done in a long time. I didn’t realize how long it had been until I started. The feeling was liberating, if that made sense.

It started as a cave, or at least that’s what I intended it to be. But then it expanded. It became more than a cave. It became a reflection. There’s a figure standing at the mouth of the cave, where the dark abyss meets the freedom of civilization. The light from the outside casts a shadow of the figure, who I then realized was a girl. The anonymous figure was a girl. And then the cave wasn’t a cave anymore, it was a tunnel. It was a fast-rushing, high-powered tunnel. And what I couldn’t figure out was if he girl was moving deeper into the tunnel or the tunnel was moving toward her, bringing her whatever was sitting at the end. What was at the end of it, I did not know. All I knew was that it was coming to her fast, and that she had no control, nowhere to go but in.

It meant something, I know it did. But I couldn’t figure out what. It seems like I couldn’t figure out a lot of things lately.

When the sun was full and directly in the middle of he sky, Nicole still wasn’t awake. And I’d gone too far to try and allow self to sleep. It was no use. Sleep wouldn’t fix this. There was only one thing that could and I spent all morning trying to build the courage to do it. A box of pop tarts was sitting on the pillow next to Nicole when I finally committed to leaving my apartment.

With every step away from the door, I struggled to convince myself that what I was about to do was right. That it had to be done.

—-

Dexter POV

These are the effects of cocaine use. First, the subject’s pupils dilate. Then, they get high levels of energy and activity filled with excited and belligerent speech. Cocaine interferes with neurotransmitters in the brain and blocks norepinephrine, serotonin, dopamine from being absorbed. This buildup results n the euphoria of being high. Many cocaine users fall prey to addiction. Chances of addiction increase after continuous use.

The effects wear off after an hour. And then there is a possibility of insomnia. Travis has not slept. And as a result, I have not slept. I’m used to it. I’ve been doing 48 hour shifts for two years now. And medical school wasn’t exactly the most comfortable time in my life where sleep is concerned. 8 hours without sleep is nothing to me. But to Travis, who sleeps with every free moment he has, 8 hours is a lifetime. And I’m praying for the moment that he crashes.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just drive me back to my apartment. I’m not high anymore.” His tone had already returned to its usual monotone. I watched him pick the lint off of his pants. I know that he would have left hours ago if he could, but he lives on the opposite side of town and it’s at least a 45 minute walk back to his apartment.

I sat down on my coffee table and felt the uncomfortable pressure of legos pressing themselves into the palms of my hand. I shoved the rectangles of death aside and glared at him. “I’m not going to do that.”

“And why not?” He scoffed, looking up at me.

“You don’t know how serious this is, do you?” I narrowed my eyes. He couldn’t be this stupid. “Cocaine is responsible for more US emergency room visits than any other illegal drug. Usage can result in heart attacks, strokes, nasal perforation, oxygen starvation, delayed and impaired ejaculations-“

“Whoa.” He winced, putting up his hands in surrender. I should have know the fucking pansy couldn’t handle hearing the side effects. “Dude. One time. I tried it one time. It’s not like I’m going to do it again. And you aren’t my doctor, so…”

“This isn’t about me being a doctor.” I snapped and he smirked, like he resented every single thing that left my lips. “This is about you. You can’t be around the people you care about if you’re using. You don’t understand what this drug does. It makes you irritable, paranoid, restless, and it will give you a never-ending sense of anxiety. And I’m telling you right fucking now, I will not let you anywhere near Annie if it means you’re going to be snorting lines every time you step outside your house.”

He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was looking out my window, to where the sun was now beginning to rise. I’m supposed to be at work in two hours. I haven’t slept. Hopefully I can get through my shift in the on-call room and no one will need me.

“Why don’t we just add that to the list of people you will not allow in my vicinity, right?”

Of course it was going to come back to that. We’ve been in this same circle at least ten times, and frankly, I was sick and tired of it. He needed to get something through his thick head. He was the last person I wanted here. And him being here changes nothing.

“I don’t like you. No, scratch that. I despise you to the point that I’ve murdered you in my head at least five times within the past hour. You tried to steal my girlfriend. And you came this fucking close to pulling my sister back into a world that ruined her life. I don’t fucking care who you are friends with, the truth of the matter is that I don’t like you. And I’m not here to change that. I am keeping you here because I want to make sure you’re not going to fuck up again. The people I care about, for some reason that is beyond me, they care about you. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want them to be the people that peel your body off the side of the road when your fuck-up goes too far. So let me make this clear, you will not be using again. And if you do, I will make you mysteriously appear in the psychiatry ward under the name John Doe and have the doctors there preform unnecessary procedures which include excruciatingly painful biopsies of your testicles. Do you understand?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t even remove his gaze from the window. For more than a minute, he just sat there staring at nothing. I began to wonder if he really did need to be committed. And then he turned to look at me, his empty eyes suddenly full of something I couldn’t identify at first. It was later on that I recognized it as something I’d only seen in Annie during her darkest days, anger.

And then he said something that made every single fiber in my body turn cold.

“You don’t deserve her.” He spat, his glare underlyingly livid.

“You were high off cocaine 4 hours ago,” I said cooly, my expression as blank as I could possibly make it. “Doesn’t that kind of make you think about who’s criticizing who here?”

“You really have no idea what happened when you left her.” He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

“When I left her?” I narrowed my eyes. “I never left her. Not for a second. And I’m not justifying myself to you.”

“You left her. That’s exactly what you did. You had your list of priorities, and she wasn’t on there. Admit that.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He didn’t. No one knew, I mean really knew, what our relationship was except for me and Chelsea. No one knew about how she could tell what I was thinking just by looking at me. No one knew about those rare moments where we would sit in silence for hours at a time doing whatever it is we set out to do, but just being in the same room would somehow instill this vibe that was more comfortable and more familiar than anything I could even remotely compare it to. No one knew that when I looked her, I couldn’t think or breathe without every ounce of effort being thrown into the action. No one knew that she was the only person who understood what I said, not matter how many times I changed my train of thought. No one focused on those things, they only focused on what we did wrong. What I did wrong. “You don’t know anything.”

He leaned forward, challenging me. “I know that she didn’t talk to anyone for two weeks after you left. Not one person. I know that when I found her in Peggy’s Diner, she didn’t even know what she was wearing or what day it was or even how she got there in the first place. I know that she’s used to thinking that she will never be anyone’s top priority. I know how many times she’s cried over a guy. Once. One time. She was fifteen. Every girl cries when they’re 15. But then you come along, and she becomes this fucking robot. And all of a sudden, there’s no emotion in her. I watched that fire in her slowly burn out the longer she was with you. You didn’t notice. And do you know why you didn’t notice? Because your top priority will always be you. That’s how selfish bastards like you are. You take and you take. And then when there’s nothing left, you leave.”

“I didn’t leave her.” I practically shout and I quickly realize how loud my voice is. I stared at his expression and watched a smug smile make its way onto his features. I cracked, something he’s been banking on all along. I dropped my voice so that it was calmer, composed. “Nothing you say matters anyway. I am always going to be the one that takes her home every night. You’re always going to be the lost puppy that pines over what he can’t have.”

There was a knock at the door and Travis looked at me like he was biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something. I wish that motherfucker would.

Annie came bursting through the door before I had time to react. I mentally reminded myself to take back her “emergency” key that she never used for emergencies. She just used it as a free pass to come and go inside my apartment whenever she chooses.

“Annie, what are you doing here?”

“Get up.” She said, looking at Travis. He sent me a smug smile and walked toward Annie.

“Okay, what the hell. Do you want me to fix this problem or not?” I said and she rolled her eyes.

“You are not fixing anything. Why did you turn off your phone?”

She called at least twenty times after I dropped her off. While Travis was still high, I managed to pull his phone off of him and hide it inside one of my kitchen cabinets. My cell phone has been on silent and in my bedroom.

“You kept calling.”

“With good reason. Give him back his phone.” She demanded and I hoisted myself up from the coffee table and retrieved his cell phone from the cabinet. He barely caught it when I tossed it to him. The way I tossed it, I hoped that he would miss the catch and that the thing would shatter into a nonfunctioning oblivion. “You can’t just hold everyone hostage all the time, Dex. That isn’t how it works.”

“It worked for you, didn’t it?” I said, running a hand over my face. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized just how fucking exhausted I was. Maybe I would just call someone and get my shift covered, tell them I got the flu or something so I can sleep.

“Ask him if he’s going to use again.”

Annie rolled her eyes and nudged Travis in the shoulder. He gave her a reassuring smile and shook his head. She narrowed her eyes at me. “See.” I don’t remember raising her to be that gullible. I think, deep down, she has a soft spot for the moronic.

“Yeah, very convincing. I see what you mean.”

“We’re leaving.” She snapped and I waved her off as she pulled Travis behind her and slammed the door shut. It solved me the problem of ditching him somewhere in the middle of the highway on the way to the hospital.

It probably took all of my strength to force myself into the shower and get ready for work. When I emerged from the bathroom, my hair still dripping and smelling like whatever scent that blue bar of soap is, I noticed the smell of coffee wafting through my apartment. I pulled on a set of scrubs and worked on towel-drying my head to get rid of some of the moisture.

Chelsea was sitting on one of the bar stool when I walked out and sure enough, there was a fresh pot of coffee brewing in the corner of my kitchen. I didn’t mind when she used my key so much as when Annie did it. Chelsea was always a welcome distraction.

“Hey, baby.” I said and she turned her attention to me just in time to meet my lips.

“Hi,” she grinned like she always does when I kiss her. Except this time, her eyes were heavy, like she’d been up all night. I don’t think she slept at all.

“What’s wrong?” The words had left me before I could even think about them.

She pushed strands of hair out of her face and her eyes met mine, a pained expression crossing her features, “I need to talk to you. Are you in a hurry?”

“No.” I shook my head. I didn’t have to be at the hospital for another 20 minutes. And even if this conversation lasted longer than that, I didn’t care. I could push back my rounds a few minutes. I took a seat on the barstool next to her and she turned so that she was facing me. “What’s wrong?”

She pulled her lips into a line and let out a small laugh. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that anyone wanted to hear. It was a laugh that made the world panic with anticipation.

“This really isn’t going to be easy for me to say,” she started and I already knew that she was going to reject my offer to move in with me. I knew it was coming. “And I want you to know, I love you. I’m saying it now. I’m saying it because I mean it.”

“Okay,” I managed to say, but inwardly, hearing her say those words ignited everything inside of me. Hearing her say she loves me is different from every other time I’ve heard the words. It establishes my meaning in her life, a meaning that matches her role in my life. There’s no better feeling than knowing someone feels the same way about you as you do them. “I love you, too. You know that.”

She nodded, “I do.” But there was something else in her voice, something I couldn’t identify. I was more focused on the next set of words that left her mouth. “Which is why this is going to be really hard for you to hear. And I don’t want to tell you because I’m so afraid that your reaction will change how you feel about me. Wow, you’re going to hate me.” Her hands were shaking and I searched my mind for all the things she could possibly say that would make her think I would hate her after this. There was nothing.

“Baby, calm down, okay?” I grabbed her hands and she shook her head.

“You’re going to hate me after I say this.”

I couldn’t help but laugh to ease the tension. “If this is about moving in with me, I won’t hate you if you say no. I could never hate you.”

She smiled, but it was a sarcastic, self-hating smile. And I tried desperately to figure out how I could make it so she would never smile like that again. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what, baby?”

“Stop.” She snapped and pulled her hands away from me. “I don’t—I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. You’re saying all these things and you have no idea what I did.”

I was quiet and she shook her head, like she was trying to build the courage to say something. For a while, we just sat there, me staring at her staring at nothing. She didn’t say anything after a few minutes and the coffee maker beeped, signaling that the pot was full but her eyes didn’t move. I was about to stand up to pour a cup for her when she turned to face me. I was about to ask her if she wanted to refill the thermos sitting beside her on the counter when she opened her mouth to speak.

“I kissed Travis.”

And then everything stopped. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even look at her. Instead, I replayed my conversation with the crack addict in my living room from an hour ago. He knew so much about her. He was there for every guy she dated, he was the shoulder she cried on. He knew her favorite band. He knew to look for her at Peggy’s Diner. They disappeared together in New York. He drove her home when she was drunk, the night we got back together. The girl I love, the girl I broke, she kissed the man I tried to help. He was sitting on my couch only an hour ago, alive. I should kill him.

“Dexter.” She started and I guess that I shook my head so her mouth snapped shut.

“When?” I said and she looked confused. “When did this happen?”

She shook her head, “Dex-“

“It was the night we got back together.” I said and her eyes dropped to the counter. “Wasn’t it?”

I watched her shake her head, yes. And I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to yell, not at her. I wanted to punch something, anything. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. And then I realized that I was just standing there and she was staring at me.

“You lied to me.” I heard myself say and there were tears in her eyes the moment the words left my mouth. She was ashamed and I found myself fighting the urge to comfort her. She was crying right in front of me and my instincts told me to pull her against me until she felt whole again. But physically, I couldn’t move.

“Why?”

“I was afraid to tell you. I don’t know-“

“No.” I heard myself say, “Why did you kiss him?”

She met my gaze and there was desperation in her eyes. “I love you, you have to know that.”

I nodded and her eyes stayed on me. “But do you love him, too?”

She was quiet for a while and I could tell that she was thinking. There was a voice in my head screaming that I should leave. The fact that she had to think about her answer spoke for itself. She loves him. And that is probably the deepest stab to my chest, the feeling indescribable and painful beyond repair.

“I have to go to work.” I heard myself say, but it didn’t sound like my voice. It was cold, robotic and I didn’t recognize it. As I turned, she grabbed my arm and the touch sent a nerve impulse that normally would have jolted my entire body, but it only forced images of him touching her into the back of my mind and I involuntarily pulled away.

Her arm dropped to her side and I didn’t look at her but I know from the sharp intake of breath that she was hurt.

“I don’t love him the way that I love you. That is the truth. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. I love him the way that I love someone that has been in my life for years. But I do not want to wake up beside him every morning or call him every time something good happens to me. I love you. I want to wake up beside you. When something good or bad happens to me, I want to call you. And years from now, wherever I am in the world, I want to feel you beside me. I don’t love him in that way. I love you. I want to be with you.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead, there were footsteps, and it wasn’t until I the door slammed shut behind me that I realized the footsteps were mine, and they were walking away from her. Later on, there was a recurring voice in my mind uttering the same three words that would turn my body cold with every repitition. You left her. You left her. You left her. And it wasn’t until I got to the hospital that I realized the voice in my head wasn’t mine. It was Travis.