The Sordid Promise (32 page)

“Are you going to come, baby?”

“Y-yes.” He immediately stopped. I groaned and dropped my head. “You’re fucking evil.”

He slowly sneered. “Give me a break, Nik. A crazy ex pummeled your face into the pavement and…Maisha. It was a bad fucking time. Tell you what; I don’t care if you’re sore. You’re getting fucked.”

Halfway to his destined purpose, we were preempted by the doorbell. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Don’t answer it.”

“I have to.”

I looked at him with question.

“Trust me, you’re going to like this…a lot.” He slipped out of the tub. The water dripped off his clothes, showing his perfect form underneath his T-shirt and fleece trousers. He quickly dried off and disappeared out of the bathroom.

I carefully slid out of the tub. I dried off as well and slipped into an oversized sweatshirt.

From my bedroom, I heard something jingle just outside the door. I heard it again along with clacking against the hard floors and the panting of an animal. Something scratched at the door. At the moment I opened the door, I fell to my knees. The young Rottweiler came over to me, licked my face, and tried to chew on my hair. I threw my arms around her, holding her close.

I gazed up at Eric through my tear soaked eyelashes while he stood in the hall with a broad smile. “Thank you.”

“She’s six months old. A nurse I work with breeds them. She gave her to me for free. She’s not meant to be a replacement.”

“There will
never
be a replacement for Maisha. She gave her life for me, even though she wasn’t mine for very long.” I looked into the face of my new puppy as she continued to gnaw on my hair. “I’m going to call you…Kifo.”

“…which means?” he asked through an angled brow.

I gave him a sullen smile. “A recollection of what’s filled my past and a prediction of what will probably fill my future.” I looked down at Kifo, unwilling to explain further.

“Hey,” Trent drawled as he opened the door to his guest house. It seemed his parents rebuilt over the remains of the old guest house that Trent burned down. What they erected in its place was twice the size of the original.

“You look high,” I said of his heavy lids and bloodshot eyes. “Isn’t that the same act that burned this place down the first time? Do your parents know you broke your sobriety?”

“It’s weed. My father does it, too. It’s my pass. It’s fine. It calms me down. Watch. It’ll be legal everywhere.”

“Never happen.” I walked into the guest house and followed him to the loft area upstairs. The French door that led to balcony was ajar. I took in the sunset that painted everything with a dark amber hue. “Seems I’m destined to be surrounded by death. No matter how hard I try to keep people out of my life…things happen.”

“I heard about your neighbor croaking. She was like…the ex-wife to a city councilman. All over the news. Fucked up how her husband left her for her sister. Tough shit for her, eh?”

I fingered the doorframe. “The places we end up when we die. We get torn to pieces and injected with poison, so our love ones can supposedly mourn properly. Seeing my mother that way…didn’t help me to mourn. I still haven’t really felt it.”

“I want to be stuffed with herbs and wrapped with gauze or some shit when I die. Preserved like a mummy. Have my own crypt and sarcophagus. That would be pretty kickass, right?”

I glanced over at him as he sat on the couch. “I see you’re still an idiot.”

He flipped me the bird and grabbed a hold of his bong. He sank in the middle of his sofa as he took a hit. “Want to light up?” he asked in smoky, tight tone. “Wait. Why am I asking you? If it doesn’t come in a tan bottle, you don’t want it.”

“Today? I don’t care.” I flopped down next to him and nudged him. “Share.”

With a surprised grin, he handed it to me, and lit it. I pressed my mouth against the tube and sucked it in, holding it for a moment, then blew it out from my mouth. “Who the hell is this girl?”

“She doesn’t know who she is anymore,” I responded through a croak. “She thinks all the people that said she was crazy were right.”

“No one’s sane. That’s just shit you know. We’re all crazy. Some of us just hide it better than others. Some of us go crazy because we see the crazy in everybody else. It’s like that accident everybody pretends didn’t happen. You keep grabbing people, pointing at it, but they pretend they can’t see it. You’re all like, ‘Did you see that? No, really, did you see that?’ They keep on walking, looking back at you, like you’re the one who’s insane. No one wants to blow the high, right?”

I nodded at the only profound thought he’d ever shared with me; it must’ve been the weed. “Who was your friend? The one you saw with Dr. C.?”

“She went back home.” He took another toke. “I knew the hacker who worked for the sites. Nation X. He told me lots of shit. Fun fact. There was a Dr. A., and a Dr. B. before C. came along. Dr. A died while back. Colon cancer, I think. B.? He went off to build houses for kids in Africa earlier this year or some shit. Got married and fuck all. C.’s gone. Guess cause of you. ‘Cause now there’s a Dr. D.” He started to giggle. “Dr. D.” He sat back, contemplating me with heavy-lidded eyes. “Wanna fuck? I can hurt you, if you want me to.”

“No. I came here to avoid locking myself inside my bathroom.”

“Do you still think about it…what we promised?” His tone turned weighty as he looked distantly at the wall. He referenced a suicide pact we made during our lowest point. Looking back, it seemed so inane. If there was to be a low point in my life, it would be the day my mother died. The day I lost the one person who was supposed to love me despite my internal ugly.

“I don’t think about it. Neither should you. It was moronic. It was a permanent fix to an unimportant and temporary issue.”

“You wanna be remembered? That’s the way you do it. I have to show you something.” He stood up and staggered to the end of the room. He pulled a metal lockbox from the oak armoire and sat next to me with it on his lap. After fiddling with the lock, he showed me what was inside.

“Suddenly, I feel like we’re twelve. We’re in the basement while you show me the new shiny gun your father has. Aren’t we too old for this?”

“Not when it’s mine.”

“How did you get approved for a gun when you’ve been in the psych ward more times than anyone I’ve ever met?”

“It’s easier than you think it is.” He fingered the gun in his hands and put his finger on the trigger. He cocked the hammer of the .45 pistol and pointed it in the air.

“I think you mean illegal. Why do you have a gun, Trent?”

“Someone tried to scare me.”

“Who?”

“Do you love him?”

“Love who?”

“Dr. C?”

I glanced at the way he handled the gun, not exactly comfortable with his motions. “His name is Eric, and I don’t know if I do or not.”

“Wanna do it? I’m ready when you are.”

“I think you’re screwing up what’s supposed to be my high.”

“You have no one now. Why stay around? You said you would die, if you lost your mom. She’s gone. Now what? Do you think we’ll be together? Will we be together in like heaven or hell?”

I stood tall, standing in front of him. “I don’t like the way you’re talking. Give me the gun, Trent.” I darted my hand out.

He turned the gun in my general direction. “Am I scaring you?”

“No.”

“I know you’re scared of death. You would’ve died. You wouldn’t have fucked up three times at trying to die.”

“Get the gun out of my face, Trent.”

He slowly moved it away, holding it on his lap. “It’s not loaded. Relax.” He rocked his finger against the trigger. “Did you ever love me? Did you feel anything for me? Will you miss me when I’m gone? I swear I’ve been lit for you for too long.”

“You never really loved me. You don’t love me. I don’t know whatever it is you think you feel for me, but it isn’t love.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. I’ve never been with anyone else but you.”

I rolled my eyes and sat on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

“It was so obvious. Won’t get that chance again, huh? If I asked you tonight, would you give me another chance? Can’t ask. He said he would kill me.” He sank back on the couch.

“Who?” I asked through irritation

“Why don’t you love me? Why won’t you sleep with me? Not now…but before. You just sort-of…left me.”

I cast my eyes to the floor. “I don’t feel the same for you as you think you do for me.”

“Then, do you love
him
?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?”

“Until you tell me the truth.”

“Your truth.”

“Nikki,” he groaned. “Do you…love him?” He nearly choked on the question.

I looked off at the open doors, opening my mouth before I could overthink it. “I…I do.”

“Thought so. Tell Dr. C. he won.”

I rubbed my temples, increasingly frustrated. “What are you talking about?”

“Hey, Nikki?”

“What?” I snapped.

“I always loved you.” In a blur, he slipped the barrel inside his mouth.

Something like a firecracker sounded off.

Blood and flesh spattered on the wall directly behind Trent.

His head lobbed over as his mouth smoked and blood dripped from his mouth.

His gaze was stuck in stillness as a single tear worked its way down his cheek.

My legs stood involuntarily.

I gaped at the scene.

There was a commotion downstairs. His mother’s whiny voice inquired about what was going on. She marched upstairs, complaining, calling Trent names as she always did.

But when she saw the condition of her son, she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Nothing could stop me. I had a single purpose when I walked inside my mother’s home. I went straight to my bathroom and locked the door. I emptied my drugstore bag in the sink. I didn’t know if Eric was home. In the moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feeling. I needed to make the feeling go away. Needed to cure it. Wanted it gone.

I slithered out of my too tight jeans and sat on the edge of the sink, spreading my legs over the bowl. I opened the package, dropping the plastic and cardboard packaging on the floor. I pushed the edge of the razor from the plastic container, obtaining one. Placing the sharp edge of the razor against my thigh, I pressed in.

The pulling pinch made me yelp. I continued, bringing the razor down at a slant. My blood trailed behind, gliding across my leg like a raindrop on glass. I pushed deeper, harder. I covered my mouth to stifle my scream. The pain clouded my mind, making me feel free for a moment, making me feel numb to everything but the throbbing pain that emulated from my thigh.

I heard footsteps resound through a tunnel. As I awoke out of my daze, I realized they weren’t footsteps, but someone was banging on the door. Eric was banging on the door. I felt high…too high to move and hide what I should. It wasn’t the remnants of the weed, it was the effects of the pain. It made me high. It made me feel…orgasmic.

The door crashed open, bringing me out of my temporary euphoria. The tears streamed when I saw the look on Eric’s face.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.

He removed the razor from my hand and my plastic packet of temporary fixes. He immediately tended to my wound, bringing the cotton pads from the glass dispenser across my leg.

After cleaning the cut, he placed a patch of cotton gauze across it, securing it in place with medial tape. His expression during the entire exchange remained dead calm. But his jaw clenched so tightly, I could see the muscles spasm in his jawline.

He stepped back, and helped me to stand. “Do you remember when I made you promise me every part of you?” he asked phlegmatically. “Do you remember when you agreed to that promise and gave me your body?”

I nodded.

“So why did you fuck with something that belongs to me without my permission?”

“W-what?”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?” he asked through a sudden constrained anger. “I was clear, correct?”

“Yes, Eric. You were clear.”

He jerked my chin up, searching my eyes. “Why are you mourning for a little boy who should’ve offed himself a long time ago?”