Look After You (38 page)

“
Only a few times,” I manage to say, while my audible heartbeat begins to race, through the heart-monitor.

“
How many times are a few times?”

I close my eyes, unable to stomach looking at his broken face any longer, and I answer him with the honest truth.
“Five times.”

“
Shit!” Still feeling edgy from the attack, I jolt out of my skin when I hear the sound of his chair slamming into the wall, and he kicks the side of my bed with rage.

After a moment,
I feel a dip in the bed, and when I slowly reopen my eyes, he is sat beside me, clutching my hands within his, leaning into me, his face inches away from mine. “I want to get crazy mad with you, I want to hit him, I want to hit something but damn it, I fucking can’t,” he finishes with a pained whisper that turns my insides out.

“
You should hit me, it would make me feel better.”

He looks down at my injured body, his eyes trace over my bandaged wrists, up
to my neck brace and over my face. “I think you’ve suffered enough, don’t you? And no matter how angry I am with you, I would never hit you, ever. You know that.” He lifts his hand up to my cheek, and his thumb gently traces my fragile skin and I close my eyes, welcoming his touch. It’s comforting, it’s familiar, and I have missed it. “I hate what he’s done to you. Your pretty face...fuck,” he says gently, his eyes roaming my face, my face full of cuts and bruises, my swollen nose covered with gauze.

He stays quiet for a moment as if mulling things over, the cogs continuously tu
rning. His next words shock me. “I don’t blame you.”

“
What?” I blink through the confusion. What? Why wouldn’t he blame me? I cheated on him. There is no one else to blame but me.

“
You had to go through so much crap alone; I can’t blame you for finding solace in somebody else. I wasn’t here, and I’m sorry for that, but Jesus, Ava, you’ve broken my heart in the worst way possible. Of all of the people in the world who have ever hurt me, I didn’t think you’d ever be one of them.” He catches my single tear that escapes with the pad of his thumb. “Where do we go from here, Ava?” he speaks softly, his hand latching onto mine again.

“I have to follow my heart,” I say honestly yet painfully.

“And what does your heart say?” I look into those hopeless eyes of his, eyes that say he would give me a second chance, and I desperately want to say, ‘you, you’re what’s in my heart,’ but I know deep down I would be lying. It wouldn’t be the truth, and I can’t keep hurting him unnecessarily like that, it isn’t fair. I need to be fearless and finally tell him what I’ve been dreading to tell him for weeks now. I need to set him free.

“That Ashton
’s the one I want to be with.” I watch as his chin trembles and the tears begin to flow down his face. His cries turn into sobs as he brings his head down into my lap and mourns for our relationship. I bring my hand through his hair, brushing my fingers through the silky strands, and I join him with his mourning cries repeating the words, “I’m so sorry,” over and over again. My heart is breaking along with his; it is slicing from the top to the bottom, leaving me bleeding and ashamed.

We stay in this embrace for what seems like hours and once the tears have subsided, he shifts from me, his face all red and swollen from t
he past half an hour of crying. “I should go,” he whispers as he leans in and presses the gentlest of kisses against my lips and it suddenly occurs to me that this will be our last kiss and I suddenly don’t want to let him go, I want to latch onto him and beg him to stay, but I don’t. I won’t. I have made my final decision, and I know it’s for the best.

“
I’m so sorry, Ava, for what you had to go through when you were younger,” he begins when he pulls away from me. “If I’d have known, I would have...” His eyes turn black with anger, but I stop him before his anger escalates, and he decides to track my brother down and do something drastic, like cut off his oxygen supply.

“
I know.”

“
I hope that bastard dies for what he’s done to you, he doesn’t deserve to live, he deserves to rot in hell.” He stands up and positions his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

“Will you be okay?” I know I am asking a pretty stupid question, but I need to make sure he isn’t about go and do someth
ing stupid. He shakes his head.

“Eventually, maybe, but no I don’t think I will, I’ve just lost the only woman I have ever truly loved.” My lip trembles when he turns and starts for the door. As he starts to turn the d
oorknob he pauses for a moment. “I love you, Ava, I always will,” he whispers without turning to look at me.

“I love you too.” But he doesn’t hear it because he’s already out of the room and for the last time, I vow that this will be the last tear I will ever shed because I am exhausted and all cried out.

I fucking hate crying.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I take my fragile body and shuffle into the direction of
his
room. If Ashton and Caleb were here right now, they wouldn’t have let me leave my goddamn bed, but I need to see him. I approach the room that is being guarded by a police officer. I expect the officer to stop me, to ask who I am, but he just smiles softly and pushes the door open for me.

“
Thank you,” I whisper, looking up at the kind police officer.

“
My pleasure, ma’am.”

I enter the room, clutching hold of my ribs, desperately trying to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain I feel with every step I take. It is eerily quiet in here, except for the continuous sounds of the machines.

Breathlessly, I come to a stop at the end of the bed, and I just stare at his lifeless body. I notice he is covered in wires, a ventilator tube in his mouth. I half expect him to open his eyes and taunt me, but other than the rise and fall of his chest he just remains still.

I take a seat beside him, clutching my fidgeting hands together in my lap. I watch him, trying to understand why life decided to draw the shor
t straw on the Jacobson family. I know they say everything happens for a reason, but the moment my father died, it was like we suddenly had a bad omen lurking over us and everything began to fall apart.

“
I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for my family to turn out like this,” I say out loud, startling myself at the sound of my own voice, unaware that I was going to speak until I actually said the words out loud. I continue on. “All I ever wanted was to be normal, to have a normal family. I had that. I had a loving mom and dad, a big brother, a baby sister, and it was perfect. Then when I turned eight-years-old, suddenly my life turned upside down, and it hasn’t been the same since.” I pause, forcing the tears back because I vowed never to cry ever again and I’m sticking to my promise.

“
I didn’t ask for my daddy to die, I didn’t ask for my mom to become a drunken bitch, I didn’t ask for my brother to touch me at fifteen-years-old. I didn’t ask for my high school years to be taken away from me so I could spend three years looking over my shoulder, scared to have a conversation with a girl, let alone with a boy just in case you didn’t approve. I didn’t ask to run to Seattle just so I could get away from you. I didn’t ask for my baby sister to take her own life. I didn’t ask my asshole of a mother to disown me, to blame me for my sister’s death, and I didn’t ask to be kidnapped, abused and battered, and to have my body covered in your blood after an ATF agent had to shoot you just to get you the hell off me. I didn’t ask to be sitting here, speaking to my brother while he’s on a life support machine, wishing he would just die because he’s half way there already, wishing he would finally get out of my life. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I got it anyway.” I am trembling, anger coursing through my veins as I raise my voice, hoping that the bastard can still hear me through his coma induced sleep.

“
I should just unplug the damn life support myself, it’s what you deserve. You dead, face down, eating dirt from the evil grounds of hell, but I couldn’t, I wouldn’t because I didn’t ask for this…” I point out to his unconscious body, which is probably unaware of my screaming words, unaware of the hatred coming from me, unaware of the pain he’s caused, “this bullshit in front of me. I never wanted a dead sibling, I certainly don’t want a second. I don’t want to be the only family left, even if it is as dysfunctional as hell, but I guess we have already established we don’t always get what we want in life.” I take another breath before I continue.

“
I don’t know what happened to you, why you became the monster you are today but it makes me sad. You could’ve become so much more, achieved so much more with your life, but it’s too late. Your life is over, whether you live or die. But one thing changes today. I’m taking my life back, and you’re not going to be a part of it. I’m going to live my life the way I want to live it, without you dictating it. You’ve dictated me my whole life. Today it stops. Die, don’t die, I don’t care. You are no longer going to be a blip on my radar. I’m done. You can’t hurt me anymore, I won’t let you.” I slowly stand, clutching carefully at my cracked ribs and careful not to make any sudden movements with my neck, I shuffle out of the room, and I don’t look back. Wincing with every step I take, I head back into the direction of my room when I suddenly come face to face with the she-devil. My mother.

“
Ava.” She gasps when she finally realizes it’s me. Her eyes trace over my face, pausing briefly when they reach my neck brace, then traces lower until she notices the black and blue bruises on various sections of my body, the ones that aren’t hidden behind my hospital gown. When her teary eyes land on mine, I want to scream at the bitch. “Oh, Ava.” She almost goes to touch me, but I hesitantly step back, pursing my lips with a snarl.

“
Stay away from me,” I hiss, tightening my hold on my ribs.

“
Ava, I am so sorry.”

“
I guess you heard then,” I snap, taking yet another step backwards, wanting to get away from her and her poison.

“
I didn’t know...I didn’t...I had no idea...that he was...I...”

“
Fucking save it, Carina.” She visibly winces when I call her by her first name. She lost the right to be called Mom a long time ago. “I’m not fucking interested. You’re thirteen years too late,” I sneer, and if it weren’t for my broken neck and cracked ribs I would be ripping this bitch’s hair out by now.

“
Ava...” She trembles, tears rolling down her face.

“
No!” I raise my voice; trembling from sheer anger. I notice a couple of nurses turn their head in our direction, but I don’t care. “You don’t get to say anything. You lost the right to have an opinion the day you decided to pick boy toys and vacations over your own flesh and blood. My father would be turning in his damn grave at how this family has turned out. Fran has gone, Avery is on life support and look at me,” I point down to myself, “beaten black and blue because of your son, because you didn’t give a shit when we were growing up.”

“
Ava, I know I haven’t been a great mother.”

“
You haven’t been a great mother?” I question in disbelief, shocked at her audacity to call herself a mother in the first place. “You haven’t been a mother at all! And it is pretty apparent considering one of your children is a rapist and the other killed herself!” Now I’m causing a scene and people are beginning to stare, and it’s obvious she is embarrassed, with how often she darts her eyes at our little audience.

“
Keep your voice down,” she hisses in a hushed whisper and I want to shout even louder, and I would if it weren’t for this stupid neck brace and the stress it would probably bring on my fractured neck.

“
You’re not a mother, you’re a fucking joke. Now stay out of my life. You’re dead to me. Do you hear me? Dead,” I spit out. She physically blanches at my words, words she is very familiar with.
“
What, they’re your words, remember? It’s the same thing you said to me at Fran’s funeral, but this time they’re directed at you instead. Have a nice life, Carina. I hope it’s kind to you,” I give her a feigned smile, my voice void of any emotion. I almost feel like curtsying at our gawping audience when I walk away from her, feeling as though I am in my own version of a daytime soap opera. The cliffhanger has already been and gone, but where the hell is my happy ending?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days later, the police inform me that Avery passed away. He was declared dead at 11:45 this morning. I don’t say anything, I don’t ask how and I don’t ask why. I’m not happy. I’m not sad. I’m just numb. My unresponsive attitude makes it seem like I don’t care and quite frankly I don’t. Why should I? He’s dead, end of story. I said goodbye to that life two days ago. I am desperately trying to focus on my future and not look back into my past.

However, that
’s easier said than done when he’s still in my head, haunting me, taunting me. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is him, and it’s as if I am back in that motel room, feeling the pain soar through my body with every punch, every crack of my bones, every spilled drop of my blood, and I panic because it feels as if it’s happening all over again.