Just as I am about to press the green call button, I hear banging from outside of my bedroom door. The previously quiet hallway now has footsteps and muttering echoing throughout it.
It's been about half an hour since Grant left, making it 10:30, I think to myself. No one else in my family would be awake, let alone rummaging in the hallway. A feeling of apprehensiveness takes over me while I begin to panic. My heart starts racing as I think about the possible scenario. What if someone broke in?
I quickly get up, and search my room for an object that could remotely simulate a weapon. Time seems to fly as the footsteps grow closer, and with every second spent looking for a weapon, I am wasting precious time that could be used hiding. Thankfully, my eyes catch a pair of shears across the room, and I swiftly dart in their direction. As soon as the door opens, I am armed and ready for whatever is behind it. My sweaty palms tightly clench the handles as I plant my stance in the opposite corner of the room. I regret not being able to conceal myself, but it'll do.
Distant mutters come from the slight crack in the door. Anticipation fills the room as the person comes closer and closer.
"She is gone," I hear them whisper just a few feet away.
Then suddenly, and without warning, the door flies open, revealing my worst nightmare. Just as I thought I would never see him again, Blake appears out of thin air. His weak voice breaks my heart,
"She's gone," He mumbles again.
How did he get in here?
Stumbling around the room, drops of blood fall from his broken knuckles. He almost trips over my giant suitcase, causing him to grasp at my dresser. His arms fly and throw my favorite picture frame on the ground, making a loud shattering noise. I put down the scissors and walk closer to him, confused why he's not saying anything.
"Blake, what are you doing!" I yell terrified of what he may do next.
He lifts his face, revealing bloodshot eyes and a split lip. The reminiscences of tears underneath his eyes prove that he's been crying for hours. The once healing cuts on his cheeks have turned into scars. My mouth gapes open as I try to process the sight of him in this weak state.
He acts like he doesn't hear me and continues stalking around my room with no purpose in sight. His large feet push around my carpet and tear up my homework. Without warning, he grabs my drawer and pulls it so hard that it comes out of the nightstand, and breaks underneath the pressure.
What in the world is wrong with him?
Once he reaches the wall in front of me, he pauses in confusion. It looks like he may be coming out of his hysteria. His eyes widen as he turns his head to look at me.
"Blake?" I whisper gently, while reaching for his hand. The scent of alcohol drifts from his mouth and into my nose. I scrunch my face in disgust as I recognize vodka and bourbon. Blake never drinks.
Before I can touch him, he pulls backward and squints his eyes in anger. His fist moves faster than my pleads as it meets the wall in a move of aggression. I whimper in fear and take a couple of steps backward, distancing myself from this drunk version of Blake. What he may do next scares me to the bone.
Continuing to punch the wall, his eyes glaze over with exasperation. I can tell he is hurt inside. I'm scared he might seriously hurt himself, so I decide to try and calm him down.
"Blake, are you okay?" I ask while nearing his back, careful not to startle him.
He punches the wall harder than before and winces before he sends his fist against it for the hundredth time. Slowly, I place my hand on his and coo in his ear,
"Come on, let's go sit down."
He groans as he turns around, revealing fresh tears coming from his eyes. Strongly, he grabs ahold of my shoulder and raises his fist. I clench my eyes shut and prepare myself for the impact. My shaking turns violent from the tight grip he has on me.
Out of nowhere, he lets go, and all I hear are desperate sobs coming from the floor.
He's snapped back to reality.
"WHY?" He questions, his breaths coming out in short bursts. I fall next to him, and he puts his arms around my waist, snuggling his head to the side of my stomach.
"I'm so sorry, Brynne. Did I hurt you?" He asks in between sobs.
"No, you didn't. It's okay," I breathe.
His deep voice peaks through his childish cries, and the sound pulls on my heartstrings. I want to ask him what's wrong. I want to know what could make a teenage boy this upset with the world. So, I wait a couple of minutes until he cools down to question him.
"What's going on?"
Blake lifts his head from my lap and wipes the tears from his cheeks. I can see him tense up when he realizes that he has been crying in my arms for the past half an hour. After all of these years, I have learned a couple of things about him. One of those things is that he hates being vulnerable. Giving him a desperate look of confusion, I attempt to get the information out of him.
He sniffles as he places his large hand on my chest. My heart beats and he seems to relax at the feeling it gives him. Shutting his eyes, Blake almost beams at the simple fact that I am alive. Snapping out of his trance, he comes face to face with reality,
"It's my mom," His voice grows uneasy.
Oh no, not Maria.
"They..."
I can see the pain forming in his eyes as he thinks about his beloved mom. He's always been a momma's boy.
"It's okay. You can tell me," I whisper in his ear, as I stroke his shaggy black hair from his tattered face. He is so handsome underneath all of these scars and bruises. His height is no longer a barrier for my vision, so I am now able to see all of him. His scars and his bruises. And he is so perfect. Everything about him just works together like a well-oiled machine. His expressions start to change as he opens his mouth to speak,
"They killed her," He cries.
Blake cries hard in my arms. He allows himself to become limp and puts his whole body weight on top of me. His sorrow practically rushes from his mouth as he yells in agony through his sobs. The sound of his yelps is enough to make me want to cry with him.
But I can't. I have to be strong for him.
Maria is dead? I can't believe it.
My heart drops into my stomach as he pulls himself closer to my chest. Tears soak my bra, but I don't care. I attempt to lift him and drag him to the bed, but his limbs fall behind him, and he can't seem to move. So I grab a couple of pillows and put them behind my back. Every few seconds, he adjusts himself so that he is somehow closer to me than before. The more he cries, the harder it gets to hold myself together. No one should ever have to go through what he has been through.
I'm at a loss for words, so I just let him weep in my arms.
——————————————————————
A couple of hours go by, and Blake has finally calmed down. I can feel his hyperventilation pause as he falls into a sleepy state. While my chest moves up and down, his head moves with it. Although the rest of his body is sprawled across the floor, he has still has managed to entangle his long legs with mine. I look over his head and notice the blood splattered on the hardwood floor from his knuckles. My eyes dart to his hands that are rested on my bare stomach, and I grimace at the sight of them. They're in pretty bad shape. I'll have to clean them once he wakes up. Remembering all of the times he has taken care of me, it's the least I can do for him.
Just as I think he's fallen asleep, I hear his soft voice.
"I have nobody," He says in a broken whisper.
My mind goes to the unthinkable. He's lost both of his parents in ten years. My soul aches for him not only because his parents have died but because it has been at the expense of a stupid mafia disagreement.
"Hey, look at me."
Blake lifts his head, showing his glossy eyes and heavily bruised lips. There's the boy I once knew, the boy who wasn't afraid to tell people how he felt. The boy Blake was before he turned into an emotionless mafia leader. I can see him right here, in front of me.
I see the Blake that I fell in love with all those years ago.
"You're not alone."
He shakes his head and looks down at my stomach. I take my finger and place it beneath his chin, lifting it, so he makes eye contact with me.
"You have me," I whisper, "You'll always have me, no matter what."
I instantly regret the lie that just came out of my mouth. He won't have me forever. My time bomb is ticking and can explode at any moment. I'm a disaster waiting to unfold, and now I've just caught Blake in the middle of it.
He kisses my chest and lies his head down again.
I want to tell him that trusting me is a mistake. I desperately want to open my mouth and explain everything. Tell him about my cancer and how I most likely only have a couple of months left. Say that he needs to move on and find somebody else who's worth his time.
God, if cancer doesn't kill me, this boy will.
I throw my head back in frustration. Things just got complicated.
And you may ask, what's so complicated, Brynne? Just tell him you have cancer and move on with your life. But, there's one problem.
Something that I have been avoiding at all costs.
I look down at Blake and remember everything we've done together. The parts of me he's seen that no one else has. All of the times when he's made me forget about everything and live in the moment. The times when he's made me feel like we are the only two people on this entire Earth. Skydiving from unimaginable heights. Driving at thrilling speeds. Sex that only happens in movies. And then I think about our possible future together; dancing in the rain. Our wedding vows, having his kids, learning to make his favorite breakfast, and growing old with him. So, what's the problem?
I now have something to live for.