Grief works in mysterious ways. According to my most recent internet search, there are different stages one goes through both mentally and physically. All are categorized in line with time and how the person heals. Some may take years, and some are fortunate enough to be able to skip ahead fairly quickly to the last step; acceptance. Can you ever really accept death? To accept that there will never be new memories, to know that you'll never hear that familiar voice, or laugh ever again. Any questions would be left unanswered, and eventually, you'll just have to accept the fact that they'll never be back again to share another moment. Just gone, lost somewhere so far away.
There's no way of telling what stage I was at. Perhaps it was denial or some sort of sick destruction phase where nothing matters. For the past two weeks, Chris has urged me to recognize that I've set myself in a state of mind where I don't matter, where taking care of myself has become a chore.
I can hardly eat anymore.
He wants to help, tiring himself every day to do what he can, but now I feel, even he's at a loss.
All of his energy is put into making sure that I am safe and well watched in the house, especially after I explained the roses. Those stupid symbols of Marcello's twisted game, an end that I see coming very soon.
What could I do?
Chris was fueled by the fire that was set, using his anger to deepen his search for our common enemy. Knowing that Marcello or one of his men had been in our home pushed Chris to a point of near insanity; whether he wanted to admit it or not. Day and night, in one way or another he exhausted all energy on developing a game plan to assure our protection, and every day he made it routine to fill me in on it.
I just wish I had the energy to care, or even to listen.
"Bri," Chris sighed, sitting on the edge of mommas bed in which I had made my home. A safe haven for me to wallow in my sadness. "Just come and shower with me. It'll be good for you."
"I don't want to stand." I croaked, shutting my eyes away from him. I couldn't stand that look he was giving me. That sad stare was full of pity and worry.
"Then I'll give you a bath,"
"I'm starting my period. I don't want to get up."
"Briella," He spoke in a gentle tone, peeling back the tightly fitted blanket that shielded me from the cold sting of the air. "I know you don't want to-"
"Chris," I shouted, flicking my eyes open to singe him with a hateful glare. "Get out."
"No." He shrugged sympathetically, keeping his cool better than I would have expected him to. "I'm not letting you skip it this time."
Why couldn't he just let me be? I wasn't hurting anyone by laying here, I especially wasn't hurting him. All that I truly needed, was to be alone.
"And I won't let you move me." With one final scowl, I shut my eyes again, returning to the comfort of darkness behind my eyelids. "Leave me alone."
"I didn't want to have to use-"
"Then don't. Don't touch me, Christian, don't-"
His arms slid under my coiled body and he swooped me up, leaving no room for further protest as he carried me out of her room and into the ghostly cold bathroom.
"I'm sorry, Briella." He said to me quietly before placing me down on the lid of the toilet. "I'm only trying to help you."
I turned my face away from his and focused on the slow drip of the leaky bathroom faucet, letting its soft drip be the only sound heard over the room. Such a familiar noise, a sound that put me in a state of nostalgia. A sickening feeling. This has always been my home.
Not anymore.
I don't want to be here.
With Momma gone-
Fear meant something entirely different now. It wasn't fast-paced and crippling anymore, that spine-tingling, crippling feeling had gone away.
I'm afraid that I've lost all hope.
"Can I put bubbles in the bath for you?" Chris was watching me, trying to read me, trying to understand. The desperation to help was almost palpable, aching for some sort of response. Could he ever understand me again?
I gave a small nod and forced my neck to turn towards the bathtub where the water was slowly rising, now mixing with blossoming suds of mint and lavender. The smell was so pungent, so different than what I had begun to grow used to, clouding my nostrils with its calming aroma. I wanted to feel the benefits it had to offer but-
"I can help you in, if you'd like," Chris cleared his throat, managing a soft tone to speak at over the loud rush of the bathtub faucet.
"Slowly," I murmured, grabbing the elastic band on my sports bra to ease it up over my head. "My skin hurts."
Responding with a hum, he nodded and rose to his feet, holding his arms out to help me from the cold porcelain seat. "I figured. The lady at the store said somethin' about this kinda scent bein' good for your muscles. Eucalyptus?"
As he lowered me into the water, I winced in pain, a gravelly moan leaving my throat. My limbs tensed as the shock of the temperature change stung me down to my bones. "Too hot," I hissed through my teeth, meeting his apologetic eyes.
"Should I-"
"I'll be alright, just leave me."
A distant expression clouded his focus and he pulled his arms away, watching the bubbles sud up above my chest with the gentle sway of the water around me. "Will you eat somethin' tonight?"
Sickness rose in my stomach at the very idea of food, a nearly unbearable feeling that never seemed to let up. Like a stone wall, I sat still with a stare directed at the faucet in front of me. "No."
"I won't fix you a plate," he said after a thoughtful pause. "But I want you to try for a few bites. Do you think you can do that for me?"
"I suppose so."
Moving a fresh sponge languidly up my arms, Chris began to wash me and for a moment a small twitch of a smile crossed his lips. "I tried to pick out some comfortable clothes for you to wear after the bath. I swear you got so much in that closet of yours, I can hardly move the hangers. Shit, half the stuff in there don't even look like clothes."
"I'd be happy wearing your shirt."
I could tell that he tried to conceal the excitement in his eyes, perking up a little in his spot with my answer. "You can always do that, princess."
"You don't have to do all of this, you know."
"Yeah, I know it." His hand tightened around the sponge, draining it of the warm water so that it could cascade over my shoulders. "Won't stop me though, and I know that you know that."
"I do."
There was no denying that this bath was in fact something even I didn't know I needed. The smell was no longer as pungent and overwhelming as before, and I could feel the tension in my muscles releasing with every soft rub of the sponge. This was a feeling I should allow myself to enjoy more often.
"I miss you, I miss talking with you and seeing you smile and it breaks my heart to see you go through the hell I had to. It's a dark place, Bri, and it's lonely. I don't want to see you lose yourself when you have-"
"What do I have? This will never get better, it's a road of pain that only has one end. What am I supposed to do?"
Chris set the sponge down to float in the water and dropped his head, watching his blue jeans darken as he rubbed the silky white bubbles from his hands before lifting his gaze to meet mine. "You're supposed to fight."
"Fight what? The inevitable? I don't know where he is, you don't know where he is. Don't you think that fighting is useless at this point?"
"Surviving isn't useless, Bri. He may have an advantage over us, but he's a little bitch-coward. It's obvious that he knows I'm capable of keeping you under close watch and protection, he's just testing the limits of his reach. He won't just jump out and fight me like I want him to, that strays too far from his game. He wants to win, and in order to do that, he's hiding like the pussy he is."
"What's your point?" I asked bitterly, propping my leg up on the side of the tub to examine the bruises on my legs from last night's pole routine.
"My point is; he's spending all of his time in the shadows, thinking I won't see him, thinking that I won't be ready for his next play."
"What makes you think you'll be ready?"
"Have a little faith in me here, princess." He smirked. "I told you that I met with my boss today, didn't I?"
"I don't recall," My eyelids drooped as I began to lose interest, his words turning into a muffled mess of false hope.
I wanted to believe. I wanted to feel that confidence again, more than anything.
"I told you that he wanted to have drinks with us down in Key West this afternoon. You said something along the lines of, 'Fuck off, you ignorant asshole. I'm sleeping.' So I just went on my own."
"Jesus. I'm sorry."
"I didn't take it personal." He grinned, watching my toes wiggle in the water, adjusting to the comfort of being vulnerable. "Plus, it wasn't that exciting anyway. He spent a lot of time on the phone with his daughter. Other than that, just lots of business talk."
"Why would he want me to come?"
"To give us some real help. I talked with him about that asshole comin' into our home and-"
"Killing my mother?" I finished for him, adding a touch of bitterness to my tone.
"All of it. He had some pretty helpful ideas for me to consider."
I couldn't help but cackle, setting my head back against the wall and letting myself slide down in the tub to wash my hair. "Did he now? While preoccupied with his kid?"
"Don't laugh just yet," He encouraged, jaw muscles twitching as the intensity of his drive lit up a fire in his eyes. "He suggested that I set up cameras around here, in your car and stuff. That's not even all of it, he-"
"You think cameras are gonna stop him from doing whatever he wants?"
"Let me finish," He pleaded, finding my hand under the thick layer of bubbles, securing our fingers together. "He said he'll suggest a personal friend, an investigator. Someone to help me dig a little deeper without damaging my reputation."
"Since when did reputation matter?"
To my surprise, he was not affected by the bitterness in my tone. Instead, it almost seemed to fuel him. "It's always mattered. My reputation matters because my life is on the line. Asking around for this guy is a lot riskier than it you might think, you know?"
"Of course. You're right, I'm sorry to be so cynical."
"You ain't got nothin' to apologize for. I want you to be able to understand that I have a tight grip on this and I plan to do whatever I need to do. Hell, not only is my boss helping me find this cunt, but he's gonna talk to his own boss about a good plan of action. Maybe he'll know who Marcello works for."
"I told you he works for Daddy."
"Yeah, but I can't just waltz around askin' where Daddy is. This big ol' bitch has a name, and lots of money too."
"Do you think they'll help you? For real? Haven't you been trying to get their help for the longest time now?"
He shrugged, propping his wet elbows on the edge of the tub. "I made it clear that the threat has increased beyond a level that I could handle. They realize that this might be a situation that could involve parties we're aligned with in our business."
"So you think you might be supplying... goods to Daddy's organization?"
"There's a very good chance, and that feeds my cause to seek further help. I can't play with the level that they're at without the help of another player who can match. Does that make sense?"
"So the cocaine, and the- those pills? Do you think that they got that from you? From your men?" My gut twisted around as if I had been held upside down and shaken senseless. If this was all part of Marcello's game, he had it all planned out better than I had thought.
Was this how he found out about Chris and I? Because he was supplying Daddy with the drugs to sedate his girls into submission?
"What pills?" Chris gaped, leaning away from the tub for a better look at me. "Describe them to me."
"Uh, well, they were white," I started, perspiration pricking at my scalp while my face flush of all color. "Salty taste-"
"Was it GHB?"
"What the hell is that? I don't fucking know. How am I supposed to remember?"
"Did it knock you the fuck out?"
"I had two, as far as I could remember."
"That's what they gave you. It's a designer drug- it's like Ecstasy that we cut with- They gave that to you?"
My neck was stiff as I nodded, taking on the tension that weighed me down. "It was a long night."
"That— they completely tranquilized you. Those drugs were made for some fucked up shit. Laced with– No, it doesn't matter. I didn't fuck anyone over anyone that we would supply that to, but I do have a list of clients that-"
"Are you saying you might be able to find him quicker now? You'll be able to stop him because you might know him?" This information could very well put me into near shock. It couldn't be that easy, could it? If Chris's boss can help him narrow it down, then maybe he'll be able to catch Marcello in the heat of his own duties. A blindside even.
It was too perfect.
"I'll just have to figure out his real name; at least his alias. I know for sure that he doesn't go by Marcello in his group." Chris sighed heavily, focusing back up at me with a beaming smile. "If that was the case I'd've found him by now, huh?"
"When are you supposed to get all of this rolling? You seem confident."
"I am confident. With the people on my side and the information that I know, it'll be an easier job than I thought. It all rides on the big boss."
"I'm worried about you." I cupped my hands underneath the surface of the water and scooped up a handful of fluffy bubbles, watching them disintegrate in my hold.
"Well, stop it. I'm more worried about you than you are for me."
"That's a lie."
"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."
"You said you got me tampons?"
"Sure did." Chris cautiously moved his hand up to swipe the hair from my face, his gaze softening as my lip began to quiver. "I also got you some of that Midol stuff. I don't know, it's supposed to be good for the stomach aches- cramps."
"I'd rather have a 30mg."
I watched as his eyes hardened, shoulders sinking with the fear for this dreaded topic. He didn't like that I asked for the Oxys so much, but it was the only thing that would help remove me from my stresses. I could sink into sleep without any effort, and the pain was easily distracted. I needed them, why couldn't he just see that? They helped him out, didn't they?
The only reason he was so upset about them in the first place was the idea of me actually getting hooked on the things. Just as he had. In his case, he had Vanessa constantly feeding them to him to keep him docile and vulnerable. I needed them to feel okay again. I wanted them, it didn't have to be a problem.
"I've already told you, princess, they're gone. No more."
"I'm not taking no for an answer." I scowled, sitting forward in the tub. "I know you have them. I know you still take them when you don't think I'm looking, Christian. Don't fuck around with me."
Shaking his head with a light chuckle, he brushed off my hostility and calmly adjusted himself. "I really can't do it. I don't know what else to tell you. They aren't here."
"Asshole! That's what you are. What am I supposed to do?" In a fit of frustration, I smacked at the water and hid my face for a concealed cry. "I won't sleep."
"What if I sang you to sleep?"
No way he would do that.
"You? Sing me to sleep? That's a joke if I ever did hear one."
As if it meant nothing, he lifted his shoulders and cocked his head. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
"You'll stay with me in there?"
"All night."
"Can we go now?"
Chris quickly stood and prepared my towel before assisting me out of the tub with care. Knowing that I was especially sensitive, he dressed me in his t-shirt to protect my skin from the cold air outside of the bathroom. Every polite touch was to care for me, to put me physically at ease.
"You sure you don't want to sleep in yours?" He handed me my toothbrush with damp bristles and a thin line of mint toothpaste smeared at the top.
Brushing my teeth was just as much a chore as any other task right now. I guess I'm thankful for his direction. I shrugged away from my reflection in the mirror and stuffed the toothbrush in my mouth. "Don't know,"
"Do it, sleep with me in there. It'll be— I'll make it comfortable for you."
"I don't want to fuck, Christian."
With delicate downward strokes, he ran my hairbrush through my matted strands of dripping wet hair. "That wasn't what I meant,"
"Oh?"
"I just want you to sleep right for once. You'll sleep good in my arms, I know it."
I washed out my mouth, shaking my head well before he finished speaking. "It's late. All of my things are—"
"Stop saying no. Just for tonight?"
Our eyes caught in the mirror and I visibly gave in, dropping my shoulders with the slightest tilt of the head before relaxing back against him.
We needed each other.
"I miss you so much." He breathed into my neck, a soft and steady shudder that held more emotion than he was used to showing. Needing me closer, he secured his arms around my waist and squeezed ever so slightly. Watching in the mirror, I blankly followed his urgent fingers as they pulled at me, pressing into my skin through the fabric of the shirt. A gentle touch, but one filled with such longing and despair.
He wanted so badly to take it all away.
"I'm sorry."
"And for what? You—"
"This behavior lately. I don't understand— I think, and then everything just happens, and in no time I feel bitter and hateful— I can't even eat."
"Let me help you rest," he hushed, palming my stomach to rub it soothingly. "I don't want you to feel like you need to apologize for what you're going through. Not to me, baby."
"Can we just let this night end?"
"Are you ready to head off to bed now? Is there anything else I can help with before we—"
"I like it when you carry me."
"Well, hell, lil lady I can do that for you anytime. I'll carry you anywhere, you know that."
I hid behind my puffy eyelids, spinning on the balls of my feet to face him before he lifted me from the floor. "You promise you won't leave for a job?"
"No work for a few days," He hummed, adjusting my legs around his waist before moving out of the bathroom. "Stop your worrying about it, okay?"
"I wish I didn't have to work."
"Me too," he settled me into my side of the bed and adjusted the covers around me. "Here, get yourself snugged up and I'll be right back. Okay?"
"Where you going?"
"Gotta take a piss. You gonna be alright for a minute?"
"Hurry?"
With a hurried smile, he turned out of the room and left me alone to sit in the fuzzy darkness with only the light of a nearby streetlamp peeking through the blinds. Just seconds alone in the deafening silence was enough to remind me of my deteriorating psyche.
These ideas planted in my mind were tainting me. Intrusive and unwelcome thoughts and visions held me prisoner.
The idea of death is creeping in, suffocating me with the many paths it could come by.
The many ways he could end it.
Just like that.
Why hasn't he already?
Why did it have to be her?
Haven't I suffered long enough?
"Bri," I heard him whisper behind me as he reentered the room, taking quiet strides over to my side. "I have something for you. I know I said I wouldn't but— don't cry, baby. I'm right here."
"It feels like you were gone for so long."
"I was, and I owe you the reason behind it." Lowering himself down to my level, he took my hand dearly and sighed. "The truth is, I went to go snort a couple oxy lines and— well, as I was doing it I felt— I'm torn up about it."
"You know that I am aware of you still using, Chris. You don't have to hide it from me." Nerves twitching with a subtle anger, I turned my head away in attempts to shake myself of the envy. He was able to take that pain away whenever he wanted, and I had to beg.
I wasn't hooked on them like he was.
Though he'll never admit the addiction.
"I've decided to give you a dose if you'd like, Bri, I just d—"
"Save me the pity speech. Don't give them to me because you regret doing them behind my back."
"It'll be strong enough to knock you out. To get some real sleep."
After a moment of thought, I sat myself up and watched his dark silhouette move in front of me. The offer was too delicious, I would take anything at this point. "You promise?"
"Here," he mumbled, dropping two pills into my open palm.
"It'll be the last time I ask you." Before swallowing them down, I looked at the tablets that were cradled carefully in my hand, silently thanking them for the magic they were going to work on my mind.
"Now, one more thing," After what felt like hours of silence, Chris stood himself up and circled the bed to get to his side. "You 'member that I wrote a song for you?"
"What? Why would you ask something so random?"
The bed shifted down as he laid himself beside me, letting out a bouncing laugh. "Just answer the question."
Confused and distracted by the heaviness in my gut, I returned myself down to my pillow and snuggled my back into him. "Of course I do. You finished it a while ago, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he shifted, letting out a chuckle that masked a hidden discomfort. "I guess it's been a bit, huh?"
"Why're you being so weird? I can tell you're nervous about something." I teased weakly, humming out a sigh of comfort as he draped his arm over my waist to pull me closer to him. "You need to confess something else to me?"
"No," he scoffed, smiling against my shoulder blade. "No new secrets. But I need you to hear this now. What I wrote you— This is something real. Something only for you. You understand princess?"
"Deeper than I thought you were going with this. Where are you going with this?"
"I told you I'll sing you to sleep, didn't I?"
The swell of my slow-beating heart brought new tears to my eyes. He has taken time to think this through carefully, to be sure he could give me anything needed for my mental care. Who knew something so simple could mean so much?
This wasn't just any song. This was something that meant a great deal to him and he wanted me to listen.
"You know I'd love to hear it." Finally answering, I laced my fingers with his, accepting a smile to cross over my puffy lips. "You don't have to convince me to let you sing for me."
"Alright," he chuckled again, trying to mask his stage fright. "I don't want to hear any snickering over there. I ain't got my guitar to hide behind this time, okay?"
"Don't tell me you're shy now."
"Well, it has music to go along with, there's no doubt 'bout that. I just want you to really get all of those words and—"
"Whenever you're ready, cowboy." After a short moment of silence, he took in a gentle breath, and in that moment I felt any and all words leave my mind.
"Let me take you away.
You are not what they've made you to be.
They think they can see,
Like you're an ocean of glass.
They see what they want.
Empty, without a dream or a past.
My love you're not what they made you to be.
You're sweeter than honey.
A taste that stays on my tongue,
Golden with a little taste of rum. "
His lyrics began to set in, touching against my heartstrings with every careful word he spoke. The meaning. The story. Us.
The low rasp to his voice was a treasure I couldn't believe I was only now truly discovering. That raw and steady baritone helped my heart thud with a new beat. I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the emotions crossing over me, washing with the dark feelings of emptiness.
"Come on, Peach don't laugh at me." He paused, letting out a nervous breath of forced air. "Wait, are you cryin’?
"Don't stop." I sniffled, squeezing to his hand tighter, urging him to continue. "Your voice is the best thing I've ever heard. Keep going."
"You want to hide, shading the tears in your crystal blue eyes.
Your pain, I can feel.
This breathtaking cry.
A white soul, so real.
An honest heart just wants a home.
You're not what they made you to be.
Fuckin' sweeter than honey.
A taste that stays on my tongue,
Golden with a little taste of rum.
No time for us but, God, I can't let go.
You have so much to give, a lifetime to live.
You are not what they made you to be."
Sobs were flowing freely now, and I found myself breathing in time with the lyrics. That voice that was nearly hypnotic enabled a deeper release in me. A desire to fix this broken will to live.
"One day we'll forget the past, and we'll write us a future free of honey and glass.
Let me take you away.
Somewhere sweeter than honey."
"Again?" I hummed, hardly leaving him a moment to finish as his voice came to a quiet.
"Yes ma'am," letting out a soft chuckle before he cleared his throat for his encore.
I allowed my body to become lightweight, airy, taking heavy breaths to settle the negativity within me. And as I let go of the present, finding myself lost in his music, soaring in the steady comfort of his perfect soothing, I accepted sleep. The sleep I was promised.
A rest that I needed greatly.
Chris was right. I am supposed to fight.
—
Song attached was used as inspiration for Chris's song.
I hope you enjoy.
Stay tuned for more consistent updates, as the end is just around the corner.
It's all downhill from here.
*Mwah*
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