Duskwood: Love's Beginning

37 - Jayna

Later that night, I pulled into my parking spot at my apartment. I hadn't wanted to stay in Duskwood. The others had begged me to; Lilly and Thomas had even left Hannah's bedside when they heard about Richy, and asked me to stay. But I just couldn't be there anymore. I'd lost so much that I cared about to Duskwood; I  didn't think I could ever go back again.

I promised everyone that I'd be in touch later, but I asked for some space for the moment. We needed to wrap some things up, get our stories straight in case the FBI came around asking more questions. But for now, I simply couldn't bring myself to care about any of it.

I called Lia on my way home to apologize for missing work that day, telling her briefly what had happened. I thought I would cry more, but I was so numb at this point, so dehydrated from crying, that I guess I had nothing left. She told me to take off as much time as I needed, but I refused.

"I need to come to work tomorrow," I said. "It's the only thing that makes sense anymore in my life."

When I got home, I stripped out of my borrowed clothes. I threw away my shoes, which were completely destroyed by the fire. Then I stood under the shower for a long time, washing my hair over and over again, scrubbing my skin until it was pink. I was trying to wash away the scars that were on the inside now, the ones that encased my heart and squeezed at it painfully.

Once the water ran cold, I stayed under it, shivering. I had tried so hard to fix things, to save everyone. I had naively thought that if I could solve some puzzles that everything would be alright. But it would never be alright again.

A weight was settling in my chest, the heaviness I'd been carrying since that first conversation with Thomas and the gang had taken up permanent residence. Sinking in to all the cracks in my heart and crushing my will. If Jake was really gone, I would not last long. My depression was in full force and I knew I should call my therapist, or a hotline. Or even one of my friends. But part of me didn't want it to go away. These feelings were my punishment for what happened.

Just one more day, I told myself. I would stay in this life for another day, and see what happened. Then I would re-evaluate.

I would have to start surviving by one second, one breath at a time. That was the only way that I could continue on. Focusing only on what was right in front of me, because thinking about the future or past was too much. So step one, turn off cold water. Step two, dry off. Step three, get dressed. Step four...what should step four be? I sat down on my couch and stared at nothing.

Then I pulled out my phone, as I'd done a million times during the past 24 hours, hoping for word from Jake. He still was offline. Like so many times before, I texted him anyway, hoping he would come back eventually and read what I wrote. Just a quick "I miss you." I had to be careful. It hurt to have to hold back all that I wanted to say to him. There were so many things that we never had the chance to talk about. But my fear that my words would put him in danger overrode my need to write them.

I offloaded the last of the texts and information related to Duskwood from my phone and onto the SD card, and hid it back in my purse. I went back to staring at nothing then, wallowing in the pain.

I woke up to my alarm the next morning and found I had fallen asleep sitting up on my sofa, clutching my phone to my chest. Well, this was a good start to the day, I thought, rolling my shoulders and trying to get the kinks out of my spine.

I walked into work at 7:00 am as usual to get the clinic ready for the day. Lia came in shortly after me and gave me a once-over. After a long hug, she insisted on checking all my wounds, including the burn on my arm. "Have you heard from your man?" she asked.

I shrugged, looking down. "No."

She was about to say more when a group of people knocked loudly on the door. "Oh, shit," Lia said, looking at the FBI jackets and guns.