Chasing Rainbows (6 page)

He slowed down and pulled into the driveway. My closest neighbor was Mr. Jones. This week, he was visiting his brother in Florida. I was all alone. There was no one to hear me if I cried for help. No one to intervene if Chance decided to push what we'd started in his truck. And heaven help me if he did, I didn't trust myself to say no to him. I was weak where he was concerned, and I hated myself for it. There was no way I could ever share myself or turn off my emotions and move from one guy to the next without blinking an eye. That wasn't who I was. I didn't know what Chase or Chance wanted from me. If this was only a pissing contest between the two of them, then I was better off alone.

Before Chance could even touch me, I opened the door quickly climbing out of the cab of the truck and out of his reach.

"Addie, "he said just as I was about to slam the truck door.

I glanced up and looked across the seat at him which proved to be a huge mistake. I wanted him, but I wouldn't let myself have him. I was done with all of the self-destructive tendencies of my past. If I decided to have a boyfriend, Chase was the safer option for me. He made my heart flutter, but he didn't shut down my brain and muddle my thoughts or turn me into mush the way that Chance did. I didn't need a bad boy, who would finish breaking my already fractured heart. It was damaged enough as it was.

"Don't run from me."

Ignoring his request, I slammed the truck door, darting across the yard and up my front porch steps. I dug my keys from my pocket and slid my house key into the lock quickly opening the door to step inside. Only when I closed the door was I finally able to breathe. I laid my head against the wooden surface of the door, shut my eyes, and willed my heart to listen to reason.

Chapter five

F
OR THE LAST HOUR,
I
'D SAT ON THE FLOOR
of my room with my ear buds in listening to "My Immortal." It was my favorite song and it described everything I couldn't say, especially when it came to my feelings about Natalie. I kept hitting repeat each time the song ended while turning over the silver razor blade I held between my fingertips. Within the bright light from the ceiling fan overhead, the blade glinted like my salvation.

I was so fucked up, and no one even cared. Well that wasn't really fair, Kara and Brandon cared about me, but they didn't understand what it was like to feel the way that I did, and I didn't have enough courage to tell them. I couldn't tell anyone. Not even my counselor had known. No one did. I told people what they wanted to hear. It was my secret and mine alone. Kara and Brandon were the only real friends I had, and I didn't want to end up scaring them away.

I'd rather have been anywhere other than my house, which was nothing more than a mausoleum where everyone chose to ignore me. Sometimes, it seemed as if I'd died that day too along with Natalie. Not only was my heart broken, but I had become almost nonexistent to both of my parents who were so caught up in their own grief that they had conveniently forgotten all about me. I was a living breathing ghost.

I rolled the blade over and over, dragging the dull edge along my fingertips feeling the slide of the metal against my skin. Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes and ran freely down my cheeks. I glanced at the clock sitting on my nightstand and gazed vacantly at the drawer I'd left open.

Inside were at least a hundred photographs of Natalie and me. The morning of the accident, she'd wanted to wear my brand new boots and I hadn't let her. I'd been selfish. Inside my closet buried under a pile of clothes were those same boots slashed to shreds, and I'd used that same razor to slice my skin for the very first time.

When the song ended, I yanked the ear buds from my ears and laid the iPod down on the floor beside me. I gripped the razor blade between my fingertips. My heart pounded in my chest at the thought of what I was about to do. My mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. I stared at the purple boy shorts I wore and at the multitude of silvery lines running along the insides of my upper thighs. With the razor poised over my skin, my hand quivered as I lowered the blade. I dreaded the sting but looked forward to the release that always followed. My nose was running and quickly I wiped it on the back of my hand focusing on the blade I held.

Did I really want to do this?
I'd come so far with counseling, but then the darkness would start to seep in and push aside every wall of my resistance. The loss still hurt. No matter how much time had passed, I didn't think I'd ever get use to the fact that Natalie was gone.

I lowered the blade and pressed my free hand against the skin, holding it taunt. A sob gurgled in my throat and burst past my lips. I couldn't do this! I threw the razor blade across the room jamming my fist into my mouth almost gagging and biting down hard. I didn't want to revisit the dark place that beckoned me. If I did, I might never find my way back out.

I don't know how long I sat there with the blade lying less than a foot away on the floor in front of my closet. Hours or minutes may have passed, and in a daze, I drew in a deep breath, glancing up at the clock on my nightstand, which now read 5:30. Shit! I had to be at work by 6:00.

Maybe I'd do it later when I had more time. That thought instantly made me feel somewhat better. These things took time. I'd think about it. Plan it for when I wouldn't feel so rushed; when I was in more control of my emotions so when I finally started cutting I'd be able to stop. I didn't want to end up in the emergency room or the psych ward.

I stood up and yanked my jeans from the bed then grabbed my phone checking to see if I had any new messages. There was only one. It was from Kara. She said, she would see me later but nothing else. With a sigh, I threw the phone on the bed and sat down on the mattress sliding my feet into the legs of my pants and flopped back onto the mattress. The ceiling overhead was a dull white with textures of sculpted half-circles, but after a while even studying those didn't manage to make me forget about Chance. His face drifted into my thoughts.

It's okay, Addie.
But the pressure of dealing with the first day of school and Natalie's memory along with Chase and Chance had almost been my undoing. I was so weak. I pressed my fingertip to my lips, still feeling the effects of his kiss hours later. He had asked me what he was going to do about me, but the real question was… just what was I going to do about him? I wanted it to be Chase, not his brother, but I'd never experienced anything as terrifying or exhilarating as the time I'd spent in Chance's arms.

He scared me, and whenever I was near him, I didn't trust myself. The need for control kept me grounded. That was my thing. It was the only way I could cope. Chase excited me, but not nearly as much as Chance, and that was exactly the reason why I couldn't talk to him anymore. He shredded my control making my head and emotions spin like a tilt-a-whirl.

I pulled up my zipper, buttoned my pants and sat up on the edge of the bed. The light overhead glinted off my purple metallic cell phone case, reminding me to snatch my phone from the tangle of sheets and shove it in my pocket. Days at work went by too slow without my phone. My wristlet still lay on my dresser so I grabbed it as I walked by and slipped it onto my wrist. Since it would be dark when I returned home, I remembered to turn on the lamp. Darkness was not my friend. I walked to my bedroom door and opened it. My flip flops were waiting in the hallway, and I quickly slipped them on my feet. I needed to get a move on it. I'd spent too much time daydreaming.

Once down the stairs, I made sure the back door was locked, and hurried through the kitchen into the living room. By the door hung the keys to my Volkswagen Jetta; it had been used when I'd received it as a gift last year for Christmas. It was six years old, but I loved it. Only then had I finally understood what it meant to be free. No one really cared when I came or when I went. I locked up and cleaned up after myself. I cooked my own meals, did my own dishes and laundry. My report cards were always waiting for my mom and dad on the kitchen table. The next day, it was always lying there in the exact same spot untouched, but I didn't want to give my parents any reason to take my car or make me any more miserable than I already was.

Who am I kidding
? I led a lonely miserable existence, and it seemed as if no one cared.

I grabbed my key, opened the door and made sure to lock it then headed down the steps to the side door of the garage. My car along with Mom's Lincoln sat parked inside since they'd taken my dad's sedan for their trip. Looking over my shoulder, I backed out then hopped out of my car and ran back to press the button to lower the garage door since I didn't have my own remote. Even though I had a car, I wasn't lucky enough to have garage privileges.

With only a few minutes to spare, I turned around and booked it down the driveway blaring my music as I drove like a bat out of hell to the little diner known county wide as Fred's. It was small. The building itself was almost as ancient as Fred, the owner who was an older man with a stock of gray hair and a beard to match. He reminded me of Santa Claus; the one from the old black and white movie, Miracle on 34
^th
Street. He was always smiling, and he let me eat a free meal every shift that I worked. That was just the way Fred was, and he wouldn't mind if I was a little late as long as I didn't take advantage of his kindness. I'd worked at Fred's for over a year. Mom had finally gotten tired of taking me back and forth, so that had been the reason I'd received the car as a Christmas present.

I pulled into the parking lot. Already, the place was pretty packed. With less than five minutes to clock in, I grabbed my keys from the ignition and hurried toward the diner. The other night, we'd had a rush right before closing. It had been more hectic than usual and I'd forgotten my apron inside the storage room. When I walked in, the bell above the door jingled and Fred looked up at me from over the counter wearing a friendly smile. "Hey, kiddo," he said, his dimples deepening in his wrinkled face. "You ready to work."

"Yeah," I replied, smiling back at him, stepping behind the counter heading for the back. Inside the storage room, I grabbed my apron, pulled it around my waist and was glad that my pencil and notepad still remained tucked in the pocket.

"How ya doing, Addie?" Angel said as she walked past me and moved toward a shelf that held an array of condiments and napkins. She grabbed a huge container of ketchup and smiled at me when she turned back around. "You clock in yet?"

"Not yet," I replied and walked over to the time clock that hung conveniently by the door. The time read 5:59, so I grabbed my card which was in its usual spot and watched the numbers change to 6:00 before I slid the card into the slot and punched in.

"Things going okay with you, Angel?" I asked from over my shoulder, and the only reason I did was because when the sleeve of her shirt had ridden up, I noticed the manacle of bruises around her frail wrist.

When she saw what had captured my attention, she moved the ketchup against her side freeing one hand so she could tug her shirt sleeve back down past her wrist. "Same old shit, Addie, just a different day," she said with a weary sigh. "You better get in there. I've got to refill all the ketchup bottles."

"You still taking classes this semester?" I asked, as I followed her from the room and back up the hallway.

"This is my last one, and then I'm out of here," she said, smiling widely.

"Good for you," I replied, hearing the bell over the door jingle.

A couple with a small child walked in. Before I approached them, I'd give them enough time to take a seat and look over the menu which was already waiting for them on a clean table. If there was one thing that could be said about Fred's, it was clean.

Angel Meadows wasn't just my co-worker. I considered her a friend. At twenty-four, she was working her way through college. Having lost both of her parents when she was only eighteen and with no family willing to take her in, she had been on her own until she met Steve one night at the grocery store, and they'd hit it off. For the past six years, they'd been a couple, but the way she talked about him left the impression that he was prone to temper tantrums, and he seemed like a real asshole. This wasn't the first time I'd seen Angel with bruises, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

I didn't know why she stayed, why she put up with his shit, but who was I to question anyone else's motives when my own life was a wreck. I hoped someday that Steve got what he deserved. Angel was so pretty with her long black hair, sparkling blue eyes and kind nature that I didn't understand how her asshole of a boyfriend could harm one hair on her head. She was tiny, and even I stood a couple inches taller than her. That wasn't saying much, since I was only five-three.

I stepped from behind the counter, pulled my pad and pencil from my apron pocket, and grabbed a coloring sheet along with a couple of crayons from the Maxwell House can Fred left sitting on top of the counter. Once I reached the table, I found that the little boy with the curly mop of golden hair seemed cranky. His mom was trying to console him, but her efforts were in vain.

"Hi," I said, offering them a friendly smile. I handed the woman the crayons and the coloring sheet. She placed them before the little boy who fell for the distraction and immediately stopped crying when he began coloring.

"Thank you," the man with them replied with a gratuitous smile.

"Are you ready to order?" I asked.

The man rattled off what he wanted without any hesitation, and then the woman ordered for herself and the child.

Almost on autopilot, I headed back up the aisle and grabbed a tray from behind the counter. Fred took the order slip and relayed it to Tim, the fry cook, who worked in the back. I walked over to the soda machine, grabbed two glasses, and filled them with ice. The hum of the machine as the glasses filled was oddly comforting. I grabbed a carton of milk from the cooler then placed all of the drinks on my tray and hurried back to their table.