Into the Blackness (Blackness Series Book 4) (53 page)

I know she doesn’t mean to take this shit out on me, but I always seem to be on the end of her insults while Blake is on the end of her babying. At twenty-nine years old it doesn’t bother me anymore. This is my life.

“I’ll text you once I find him.”

“Thanks for doin’ this for me. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

We hang up and I crank the volume on some old school Linkin Park. I’m tired and my body hurts. We had a tough delivery tonight and I can feel it head to toe. The mother and the baby both survived and that’s all that matters at the end of the day.

I’ve been a labor and delivery nurse just shy of six years. Working my way through nursing school took over five years, but I did it. I waited tables, tended bar, sold shoes, worked in a hardware store, cleaned office buildings and any other thing I could find to make money. When I started school Blake wasn’t into the drugs he’s on now and he helped me out a lot. He got me my first studio apartment. It was in Northeast, a pretty rough Kansas City neighborhood, but I felt safe enough.

Then about a year later Blake started doing cocaine and when that got too expensive he moved to crack. Things have gone progressively downhill from there. I see three options for my brother: rehab, jail or death. Jail and death will be the same for Blake. He doesn’t have enough self-worth to make it through the prison system. So I’m still hoping Blake will pull it together and make the right choice so I don’t have to identify his body in the morgue one morning when I wake up and realize my love isn’t enough to heal my beloved brother.

I find street parking in front of Blake’s rundown house. If I’m being honest it’s a crack house. The siding is missing more than it’s present. I can smell the stink of pot and the chemically order of meth as I traverse the dilapidated stairs onto the porch. The front door is cracked open which is ridiculously dangerous on this street. I cover my face with my hand as I push into the house.

It’s worse than I’ve seen it before and that’s saying something. There’s not a bare space on the floor. It’s filled with garbage, empty food containers, bottles, broken glass, cigarette butts, animal droppings, used syringes and that’s only what I can identify with the small amount of light streaming from a lantern sitting on an upturned milk carton.

Tears prick my eyes as I tiptoe through the space, trying to avoid the worst of what I see. As I approach the couch I can see a woman’s body flopped precariously over a bean bag, face down. Her shoulders are moving with shallow breaths. She’s alive. Another man is passed out on the 1970s couch that used to be a swirly pattern of red, brown and orange but is now just brown with burn holes. I know he’s passed out because his snoring is shaking the rafters. I finally spot Blake.

I drop to my knees and search for a pulse. He’s pale, nonresponsive, dirty, hairy and laying in a pool of vomit on the filthy floor.

“Goddamit, Blake! You selfish motherfucker, don’t do this to me!!” I wail as I smash my fingers into his carotid. I release a shaky breath when I find his pulse strong and even.

Lowering my butt to my heels balancing on my knees, I roll my brother to his side and begin to try to wake him when my world stops. I’m frozen in place and my heart is thundering in my chest. What the hell is that? I get my answer immediately as I hear another wail from a baby.

I leap to my feet and leave the junkies where I found them. I no longer move carefully across the floor, I trudge through the dumpster beneath my feet on a mission. Find the baby. I can tell by the cries it’s not a newborn. Not that it matters right now. I’m just absorbing information as I search.

I shove my way into the bathroom first.

Nothing.

I fight my way into a bedroom and shout as a giant rat runs across my feet. The baby has stopped crying making my search harder now. I sift through newspaper, Styrofoam, dirty needles, food, rat shit and I don’t know what else. The only light I have is a tiny flashlight on my key ring. There’s no baby in here.

I move into the hallway once again. There’s only one more room. Blake’s. The baby has to be in there. I struggle mightily to shove the door open as it resists everything on the floor. I’m careful in case the baby is up against the door. Once I have it open enough to slide my frame through, I do just that. I frantically flick my light over every surface until I see it. A tiny naked body on the floor. I thought I moved fast to get to Blake a few minutes ago. It’s nothing compared to my swift movements to this baby.

I immediately begin checking it over. There’s a pulse but it’s weak, the breathing is rapid and shallow. I scoop up the diaper-covered baby and move: through the putrid house, past the unconscious bodies, down the rickety stairs, across the uneven sidewalk and into my car. I place the baby on the passenger seat and I drive. I check the pulse almost the entire time I drive until I meet my destination. 

Home.

Dedicating this novel to my husband seems like a tiny recognition of everything he does for me. I live the life I do because I have the best partner, teammate, cheerleader, supporter, caregiver, ass kicker, distracter, debater, brainstormer…my muse. Writing stories of strong women that find happiness with strong men originate from this strong woman finding her strong man. I love you with every breath I take.

My children remain my greatest reward in life. Someday I’ll show them the characters that have been borne from the love they teach me with every single day the sun shines on their adorable faces. Love is too small to describe the feeling I have for my boys. They encapsulate my soul with happiness.

There are days that are harder than others. On those days, I reach out to my lifeline. My best friend. Chris, you make tough days easier, good days better and everything in between joyful. A life without you wouldn’t be a life at all for me. It would be a sad, dreary space. Whether you’re an ocean away or at my side you give me solace. Loving you is the simplest thing I do every day.

Amanda…you’re a shining star in my life. I’m not known for my abilities with the ladies, but you’re an exception to the rule. You teach me something new every time we talk. Whether it’s how girls feel at fourteen or that I have serious issues writing with commas, I’m always learning from you. It’s not often I think my life is anything other than wonderful, but I can admit something was missing before you came into it. Thank you for being an amazing friend to me. Thank you for helping me grow. Thank you for having my back at every turn. I love you to bits, lady. Always will.

Professional and personal lines no longer exist with you, Ellie. Hours of talking about our lives, loves and work are effortless and fulfilling. I’ve never looked forward to Fridays as much as I do now. One of the best parts of writing for me is imagining how we’ll dress it up in the end. If not for you talent, I wouldn’t have the success I do. If not for your generous spirit, I wouldn’t have an amazing friend that’s always there for me. Loves and hugs to you.

Ruth you’ve given me such support and kindness that I don’t have words to express how you mean to me. A life on an island all alone withered away when I met you. Thank you for offering me your friendship when I needed it more than I was willing to believe. This next year will be a joy, knowing I’ll get to share it with you.

Pam and Michele, you ladies have been the most amazing supports in the blogging world. I’m honored that you’ve taken the time to sing my praises. I hope you continue to enjoy the series and fight against the blackness right along with me.

My readers, reviewers and fans are AWESOME. I’ve received some of the sweetest words and reactions from all of you. Your trumpets are loud and verbose, causing me endless joy. Thank you for taking the time to come on this journey with me. I couldn’t do it without all of you!

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Into the Blackness
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