Constant Headache

“You’ll be fine, everything will be fine.” I whispered to myself as I pressed the palms of my hands into the cold porcelain sink hanging in front of me. Fingertips pressing into edges, my lungs sucked in as much air as possible as my nerves shook under my skin. Even though I was in a completely different room than him, I could still feel him looking at me. I could still feel his eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

I knew there was no way I was going to make it out of here peacefully.

Eyes scanning over the faint cracks in the bowl of the sink, the light sound of the women’s bathroom door creaking open sounded through the cold tiled room making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Sharply inhaling, I loosened my grip on the sink and slowly brought my head up, letting my eyes make their way to the foggy mirror hanging at eye level, showing my extremely pale face, smudged make-up, messy hair, and the rest of the room.

The mirror was filled with the empty room for a minute, but the second I let my heavy sigh out, the man’s bruised, pale, dirty face appeared behind me, causing my stomach to knot.

Turning on my heels, I pushed my body off of the sink and stood on my own, steadying my body for any possible blows I would receive from him. My heart was pounding in my chest. With each beat, I felt like my rib cage was going to explode in my torso. I was waiting for the skin stretched over my chest to rip wide open.

“How funny to see you here.” The brunette whispered, his arms showing the fresh track marks that trailed from his wrist up to his elbow. The black and blues and large red marks brought back painful memories, causing a faint pound to start behind my eyes. “You really fucked me up last time, Ryder.”

“I’m well aware.” I sent him a smirk as his eyes grew more angry by every passing second. “I see you managed to scrounge up enough money to get them fixed.”

“Yeah, I had other plans for that money, but thanks to you I had to rearrange my priorities.” He growled, his thin body moving closer to mine.

“Had to take a night off of banging soulless prostitutes or did you just scam more idiots to by shitty blow.” I felt my arms start to shake. I wanted to throw my fists into the mans face. I wanted to feel his blood on my knuckles. I wanted to see his eyes full of worry. I wanted to see him in pain.

Without warning, the man reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a switchblade. Flicking it open, he quickly pushed my body up against the sink and grabbed my head, slamming it against the wall two times before holding it there, pressing the dull edge of the blade into my neck.

I couldn’t breathe as I stood there, waiting for him to plunge the blade into my jugular. My heart was racing so fast that I couldn’t even feel it. My head was in such a mess that I couldn’t even hear myself think. All I could do was struggle to breathe, and watch as the room spun a few times behind the man.

“I could fucking kill you right now you insignificant little fuck.” He growled, pressing the blade harder into my skin. “Such a pretty little thing to waste, honestly.” His breath hit my face that was now covered in a thin layer of sweat. “Maybe I’ll fuck you before I kill you.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just fucking do it.” I barked at the man, my pride taking over my will to keep breathing. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live more than any other time in my life. I wanted to run into Jamie again, I wanted to kiss Jamie again. I wanted to look into his huge eyes and press my face into his chest and smell his cologne again. I needed to. I couldn’t die without doing it one last time. I couldn’t let everything end here in a shitty run-down bar bathroom.

But I was stupid. I never through anything through, I always got myself into trouble. I always got myself into these compromising situations, always.

The man pressed me harder into the sink, letting the dull edge dig into my back. As he moved the blade from my throat, he replaced it with his hand and held my throat tightly, so tightly that I could barely breathe, and could not manage to utter a single word.

As I stayed there, battling to breathe and trying to calm myself down enough to think of a way out, I felt the man’s hand slowly tug at the hem of my long sleeved shirt. Eyes wide, I gritted my teeth as he moved his hand up the skin of my stomach and up to my bra. The second his hand slipped into my bra, the pressure I was applying on my teeth caused one to chip, and as the small crack rang through my head, I lost it.

Pressing off of the wall with my shoulder, I pushed my body into his, and forced him to stumble back until he fell into the break between two of the stalls. As his head hit the plastic wall, his eyes snapped up to meet mine and the second he did, he lunged at me, his switchblade in front of him.

As the blade grazed my arm, I kicked my leg up ad watched as it landed right on his knee cap. As the man stumbled back, I quickly applied pressure to my arm and headed for the door. Head spinning, I managed to reach the door just as the man grabbed my hair and yanked me down to the floor.

Limbs colliding with the cold tiled floor, I watched as the man quickly jumped on top of me, the switchblade lightly tracing across my neck. “You’re fucking done, Ryder, just like you’re waste of a brother.” The man seethed and right as he was about to apply more pressure to the blade, I let out a blood curdling scream, kicked my legs, and swung my hands blindly in front of me, not pulling back when I felt the side of my hand graze passed the blade.

Just as the man took my head and slammed it against the tile, the bathroom door swung open and before I could register what was going on, I was flung over someone’s shoulder and quickly carried out of the bathroom as the man holding me roughly pressed the tip of his boot into the man’s rib cage.

Blinking a few times, I started to feel my heart rate drop as the man walked over to the pool table and sat me down on the top of it. “What the fuck are you doing in there with him, little one?”

“He followed me into the bathroom.” I breathed, my head pounding from the rough impacts. “I’m fine, I just want to go home.”

“Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m fucking fine.” My words were sharp as I looked down at my arm and watched as the blood started to dry around my pale skin. Wincing, I hopped off of the table, muttered a thank you to the man that had pulled me out of the bathroom, and walked through the bar, ignoring the stares, and barged out of the front door.

Teeth grinding against each other, I released the pressure and ran my tongue over my bottom tooth, feeling the small dent I had created at the top. Shaking my head a few times, I blinked hard, watched the world spin in front of me, and then regained my balance and picked up the pace of my walking again.

It had been five days since Jamie left my apartment. It had been five days since I was in a good mood. It had been five days since I was able to spend at least five minutes of my day without remembering his lips on mine, his hands on my skin, or the smell of his stupid fucking cologne.

I was infatuated with the man.

That’s what pushed me over the edge. That’s what drove my sanity that much closer to the edge. I was in love with someone that was too good for me. The simple fact that I was actually in love with someone was bad enough, but for it to be someone like him. Someone so nice and caring, someone so laid back and fun to be around, it just wasn’t possible. That’s not how my life worked.

I was halfway home when I watched a large SUV speed passed me. The form of the headlights cutting through the dark night sent shivers up my spine. They were the same headlights that glared in my rear view mirror as I drove home after the hospital.

“Fucking waste.” I grumbled as I looked over at my arm as I reached a streetlight, inspecting the cut that was now mostly dried up. Holding back the urge to pick at it, I kept my arm bent at the elbow and pressed into my stomach as I used my other hand to reach into my back pocket and pull out my pack of cigarettes.

Fumbling with the pack, I managed to pull one out, stick it between my lips, and then light the end. Small lines of smoke started to float into the air as I came up to a bench and dropped my aching body down against it. Not bothering to stick the carton back into my pocket, I pressed my back against the wooden bench, and tilted my head back, letting my eyes connect to the large starless sky hanging above me.

The nicotine managed to calm my nerves. I was still shaken up from everything. I could still feel his disgusting hands on my stomach. I could still hear his raspy voice in my head. I could feel the pressure on my neck and the cold blade against my skin. I was so weak, I was so fucking weak. I could have died. I could have let that fucking bastard kill me, and for what? Because he sold my brother the heroin he overdosed with?

I was willing to throw my life away over someone like that. I was willing to die just to beat up that fuck that technically didn’t even do anything? The fuck I already knocked teeth out of? What was the point of looking for him again? I wasn’t going to kill him, so what was the point? My brother was dead and taking my anger out on the guy that sold him the heroin wasn’t going to being him back.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about my brothers pale face pressed against the kitchen floor. I could still smell the vomit that was pooled around him on the tiles. I could still smell the stale air. I could hear the echo of my horrible sobs. I could still feel the heartache. I could still feel the coldness that entered my veins when he was lowered into the ground in the grave next to my mothers.

I started to cry on the bench in the middle of the city. The nicotine in my lungs didn’t soothe me. The cool air and silence didn’t soothe me, it only made me think more, remember more, and cry more. I cried for my brother. I cried for every mistake I made. I cried for how I ruined my family, how I burned every bridge I had, left everyone that loved me, and double crossed everyone that tried to help me. I cried because I was alone. I cried because I was stupid and headstrong. I cried because he touched me. I cried because I was weak enough to let that fuck touch me. I cried because I let Jamie walk away.

I cried because I didn’t know who I was anymore.

I was Ryder Smith, but I didn’t know anything else.

I wanted the brunette with his huge eyes to appear in front of me. I wanted to feel his strong arms around me and smell his cologne. I wanted to feel safe for a moment, feel purposeful for a moment. I wanted a reminder as to why I kept going. I wanted a reminder as to why I wanted to have a life after this, why I wanted to live normally when I knew I was never going to really be normal.

Once my cigarette had burned up, I lit another one. When that one had burned up, I lit another, and when that one burned up, I stopped. My lungs were burning, my eyes were stinging from the smoke, and I felt like I was suffocating. I felt like that man’s hand was still on my throat. Coughing, the burn in my throat intensified as the world spun a few times before it went back to normal.

After fifteen or so minutes sitting on the bench after I had finished my third cigarette, I shakily stood up and started to make my way back to my apartment. I knew it didn’t matter what I looked like when I walked in. I knew Aidan was out with that girl again. Ever since that night he had spent every night with her. He skipped out pizza night, he skipped our beer and taco night, he even skipped our Chinese and red wine night which was his favorite.

It hurt to see Aidan disappear so quickly, but I was happy he found someone he wanted to spend so much time with. During the mornings he would talk about her. He would talk about the way her eyes sparkled or the way her skin glowed under the moonlight. He didn’t talk about her in bed or the way her curves shifted when she walked. He spoke about things you noticed when you were in love, things that you wouldn’t notice any other time.

I was jealous of what he suddenly found. I was jealous of the smile on his lips and the sparkle in his eyes. I wanted to feel that happiness, that comfort and sense of purpose. I wanted to look into someone’s eyes and see love. I wanted to be able to know there was someone out there talking about me like that. But the moment someone showed any interest in me, my walls shot up.

The moment I saw that look, I panicked. When I panicked, I pushed. When I pushed, I ended up wandering the streets of Dallas late at night, strolling into bars in bad areas, getting into meaningless fights with people that weren’t worth my breath.

When I had finally reached my building, I felt my heart drop down to my stomach.

The figure that was on the front steps instantly set warm blood running through every vein in my body. I was on fire as I traced my eyes over his slicked back hair and white tee-shirt. The faint light from the streetlights showed the permanent ink on his forearms and allowed his big brown eyes to shimmer through the night.

I wanted to run up to him. I wanted to press my face into his chest and cry. I wanted to scream at him, just scream at him so he realized how horrible I felt. How horrible I have been since he walked out. I wanted him to realize that even though I didn’t really know him, I needed him. I wanted him to realize that my strong attitude was a front.

I wanted him to realize that I really needed help.

“Ryder?” His voice paralyzed me.

The brunette stood up and swiftly moved in front of me before my damaged head could process it. His large hands were on my shoulders as he traced over my whole body, taking in the bloodstains near the hem of my shirt and the dried blood on y forearm. I could feel the disappointment and anger radiate from him. I could feel the anger.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, holding back every attitude I could have thrown at him.

“What happened to you?” He disregarded my question as he carefully grabbed my arm and extended it, watching me carefully as I winced and then glanced over at the cut surrounded by the dried blood. “What the fuck did you get into this time, Ryder?”

He wasn’t angry. His words sounded angry, but as I mustered up the courage to look up at the man, all I could see was pure worry. His huge doe like eyes were filled to the very top with pure concern. He really cared why I had a slash on my arm and hand. He cared why I was out alone wandering around. He cared that I wasn’t okay.

Inhaling sharply, I pulled my arm away from him and shook my head, not able to fight the burn in my throat to speak. Swallowing hard, I looked down at my sneakers and blinked hard a few times. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know why he was here. I didn’t know how I should act. I wanted to invite him in, but at the same time I just wanted to walk away from him again.

I wanted him to be with me but at the same time I wanted him to find someone else.

I was a constant headache. I wasn’t worth his time.

Shaking my head a little, I went to walk into the building when I felt Jamie grab onto my wrist and stop my body right before I could reach the door. “I came here to talk to you.”

“We don’t even know each other.” I whispered, afraid to test my voice any more than that.

“I know.”

“So why are you here?”

“Because I don’t know you.” I spun around and faced him, my anger rising as I looked into his eyes and felt the burn in my throat start to worsen. “Because I want to know you, because I made a mistake walking out last week and then leaving for a few days.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, Jamie shook his head and quickly walked up to me, grabbig my shoulders and looking right into my eyes. “I want to get to know you, Ryder.”

I shook my head, the urge to start crying getting stronger with every time Jamie nodded. Once he moved his hands to my cheeks, he gave me a small smile and nodded one more time. “I do, shocking right?” He joked, but I didn’t laugh. I couldn’t laugh. My head was such a mess, my heart was so twisted and bent that I couldn’t find it in me to agree with him or smile or even make a snippy comeback.

All I could do was lean into his chest and cry.

I don’t know why I felt to safe with him. I don’t know why I put my trust in a complete stranger, but as I leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his strong arms tightly around me, I didn’t care.

As I leaned into him, I didn’t care who I thought I was. I didn’t care about my normal rude attitude. All I cared about was the rhythm of his heart and the smell of his cologne.