Island Rush (62 page)

His breath went ridged.  “Janice, I’m dying! I’m dying, I’m dying!”  He pulled me up and away from his shoulder so he could look me in the eyes.  “I’m dying.  I-I’m dead!  But understand something right now!  No matter what happens, no matter what happens or just so I die, I am not leaving you.  I will never leave you.  Never.  I will always be with you!  Because I wouldn’t be able to stand a damn second away from you!  You are my life and my heaven!  You are all that matters to my heart!  You!  Do you understand me?!”

Breathing hard, I nodded, forcing my sob to stop.  Tightening his arms around me, he pulled me against him again, and I took a deep breath, letting only a few more tears escape.  He held me to him for a while, not saying anything as all we both needed was each other in our arms. All that were satisfying enough considering the events that we are slowly – hopefully slowly – approaching.

“What are we going to do?” I asked quietly, that lump in my throat rising again, and it was getting annoying at how I was reacting from all this.  I can calm down one minute and the next I am sobbing.  “How much time do you figure we have?”

He didn’t answer right away.  “Not long.”

My heart jumped.  “How long do you suppose that is?”

“A few days.”

That nearly broke me again.  My chin quivered and heart ripped, stomach turning, mind hurting at the terrible thought.  I felt him stroke my hair, his head resting on mine.  His body began to shake too.

We said nothing for a moment.  I didn’t know what to do, what to say.  My life would never be the same.  “A few days… you can’t leave me that quickly,” I heard myself saying, despite what he had just said.  “You promised I would never lose you.  That I didn’t need to worry.  I know you will always be with me in spirit but still, you were wrong.  I’m sorry it’s just... too fast.”

After saying that, I had no clue what direction I was in.  First, I tried to get him to accept he was dying.  Now, I still wasn’t willing to accept it.  I wasn’t prepared just as he wasn’t.  I wasn’t sure where I stood, but all I knew was that he was dying despite everything.  We both knew it to be true.  Accepted it.  But... a few days?  That was a little hard to process and therefore, a small amount of denial kicked back in me.

He didn’t know what to say to that either.  I wanted to say I’m sorry because I just said something that went against what I pushed earlier.  I think he understood I was a little off and uneasy at the moment.  Instead of saying anything and before I could apologize, he picked my head up and kissed my lips, giving me such a passionate kiss, one with love.  One that made a few more tears leave my eyes.  One that I would never forget.  His mouth opened mine, and he took in my mouth, making me whimper.  When I cupped his cheeks, bringing him deeper, I felt something roll over my hand.  I felt a tear trace over my skin that left his eye as he tightened his arms around me.

Chapter 63

“At least try to eat something,” I said after we both were able to calm down.  The night above seemed to want to challenge me. I didn’t want tonight to claim Casey; it was too soon.  Nevertheless, even how much I’d pray, it wouldn’t stop his sickness or Mother Nature from taking its course.  The thought of waking up in the morning and finding that he wouldn’t was making me shake, but something in us both seemed to numb us of the tears for now.

He could die tonight for all we knew.  Meaning, the only thing we could do was try to stretch his time out.  Eating might help.  It could give him some energy to help him fight. 

I held out the bag of berries, and he took a handful, laying down in the long grass. The moonlight just barely shined through the cover of leaves, but it managed to cast a light on his weak body.  He was lying on his back next to the bank as I sat up next to him, watching him.  He lifted his hand to his mouth, pressing one berry at a time against his lips before letting his mouth claim it.  He seemed to go so slow, a berry every minute or so. It made him look much weaker. 

His tired eyes looked up at me as he chewed on the berry.  With his other hand, he slid it over the grass and to mine, grasping my hand.  “Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered after swallowing.

“Like how?”

“Like you are watching me leave you now.”

“But you are,” I sighed, voice cracking.

“But I’m not going to die tonight.”

“How do you know?” I asked loudly, angry at this whole situation.

“I just do.  It’s not tonight.  And I know you think that it could be tonight, but it’s not.  I feel too strong to die yet.  In a few days, yes.  Not tonight.”

I bit my lip as he ate another berry. “It doesn’t feel like there is much of a difference,” I whispered, just barely audible.  His expression and words told me he heard. 

Looking down before glancing back up, he sighed.  When he was done chewing, the last of the handful of berries gone, he lightly tugged at my hand.  “Come here.  Lay down with me.”

Now that it was dark, and the air was cool, I could actually touch him without his temperature rising because of how cold I was.  Along with the rag at night, contact could maybe help him stretch his time here with me out.  At least, I hoped. 

I stretched my legs out and my arms from where they were propping me up, bringing me to lay on my side.  I shifted closer to him, moving my arm up around him.  His whole body was still sticky in sweat, but I didn’t care.  As long as I was holding him, I was happy.  But I knew it was important to stay cool. 

I grabbed the cloth that was a few feet away.  It was already damp and wet enough so as I lay with him, I lightly ran it over his hot body, wiping away the sweat and hopefully the annoyance of it.

I felt his head tilt and rest on the top of mine as my cheek was pressed against his shoulder.  My hand rubbing the cloth slowly over him in circles, I felt him take a deep breath.  He wrapped his arm around me and held me to him tighter. 

A moment later, as he was warming me, I registered how tired I was becoming.  ”Say something,” I said suddenly to him.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, his hot, uneven breath brushing my hair. 

“Tell me something about you I don’t know,” I said.  I couldn’t fall asleep.  I needed more time!  Though he said he felt and knew he wasn’t going to die tonight, that didn’t make it so it wouldn’t happen. Not to mention, I wanted to take this time we have and learn more about him. 

He said nothing.  Instead, he shifted, turning so his eyes would meet mine as I was laying against his shoulder.  He stared deeply at me, eyebrows dipped and sad.  “Stop it.”

Groaning, I shook my head.  “I can’t fall asleep yet.  I know what you said.  I’ll see you in the morning, but that isn’t exactly a guarantee.  And…” My voice cracked again.  “And we don’t exactly have the time to get to know more about each other.”

Searching my eyes, I think he realized how I needed this and how he also needed this.  He lifted his other hand that wasn’t holding me, brushing it through my hair lightly as he rested the back of his head against the ground. 

“I wrote you letters,” he said. 

Now it was my turn to find his eyes.  I turned over in his arms, pressing my stomach to the ground with my arms holding the rest of my upper body against him.  Hovering an inch from his face, confused, I saw he looked worried.  Probably at what my reaction would be.

“Wrote letters?  When?  Why?”

Caressing my cheek, he spoke in a softer voice.  “I needed to.  When I discovered and recognized I was falling for my student, I had so much guilt and no way to relieve it. I had no one to tell or share that information, that problem, so I wrote letters to you that explained my problem. I explained how I was feeling.  Of course, I could never give them to you.  I tore them up after writing them.”

“Why?”

“It was a way to let my pain, my guilt out.  I knew I could never give them to you, but it helped with a lot of stress just to write it out.”

It was surprising that he would risk creating evidence of his feelings for me.  Though he said he tore them up, it also told me how much of an effect I had on him. 

I smiled slightly.  “What would you write?”

“I wrote about how much I hated you for making me feel the way I did.  Hated you for how much of a hold you seemed to have on me.  How much I hated you for making me fall for you.  Love and hate.  That was how most of them began.  I would beg you to stop torturing me in class with your strong words and face, your beautiful and alive voice.”

My breath grew harder as if something blocked my throat, seeing what I was losing before my eyes.  “What else?”

He cupped my cheek.  “I would write how much it killed me to watch you go on with that mask I wanted to rip off.  How I wanted to know everything about you and help you.  I would tell you how sick I felt being around you. So sick sometimes that I wouldn’t go to work and called in because I couldn’t take knowing I fell for you and see the reminder in class.  Knowing I was a pervert who would rot in hell for wanting you.  I couldn’t breathe when I would watch you walk into my room every day.  I hated the fact that I had to stay out of your life and that I had to show you my own mask.” He took a deep breath after that.  “I wrote a letter maybe every few days.  The second I was done, I would rip it to pieces and throw it away.”

I felt my eyes water again and a tear fall.  He lightly brushed it away with his thumb before he moved that hand to cup my cheek again.  “Out of all the things that you could have told me, you pick something that would make me cry,” I said.

“I’m sorry.  It was the first thing that came to my mind, and I eventually wanted to tell you.”

“It’s okay.   I’m sorry that I had that effect on you.  That you felt so bad and guilty about —”

“You know that guilt was worth everything.  That pain was worth it because now, I have you.  I have the woman I dreamed of having.  Having that love in my life is so powerful, and it can’t be explained.  And to have myself back, my whole being, my life, it was well worth it.”

I kissed him then as my head swarmed with dizziness at the feeling.  I felt sleep want to take me, and I wasn’t ready to let that happen.  My eyelids were heavy as I kissed him, his touch making me so relaxed but I couldn’t go to sleep.  Not yet.

Kissing him, loving him.  Oh god, I loved this man so much.  I didn’t want him suffering and dying like this.  I didn’t know how I would deal with it after he was gone.  Didn’t know what would happen to him once he is gone.  I know he belonged in heaven, but I wouldn’t be there with him to make sure he was fine.

That was something I never got over when my mom died.  I never knew if she was at peace.  Never knew if she was in heaven or not.  I felt her spirit around me before, and it comforts me, makes me feel that she is with me.  But if she was with me, did that mean she wasn’t in heaven?  Days, weeks, that question was stamped in my head because I could never find out.  Never know if that was true unless I died myself.  Though suicide crossed my thoughts several times after her passing, I knew she wouldn’t have wanted that, and I was better than that.  I just wanted to be with her, to know she was okay. 

Once Casey dies... I didn’t know what I am going to do because I will never know if he is truly okay. Whether he is safe or not.  Never know if he has found peace or not.  It is going to drive me crazy.

When our lips broke, we opened my eyes.  I noticed how hard it was to keep my wet eyelids up.  I couldn’t fall asleep yet.  “Casey,” I whispered.

He pressed his forehead against mine.  “Don’t fight it.  I’ll be here in the morning.  I promise.”

“No…”

He kissed my cheek and grasped my back, pressing me into him more.  My head rested in the crook of his neck, the warm yet damp skin keeping me relaxed.  It made the chill leave my body and my eyelids heavier.  Why, out of all of the nights, did it have to be this night that I was suddenly so tired? 

“Fall asleep,” he whispered, his arms resting on me. 

The creek only a few feet away glided away with his voice.  It seemed to be taking my energy too.  “No,” I said, trying to keep my eyes open.

“The sooner you are asleep, the sooner I can go to sleep too.  More rest for me could mean more time.”

“I know.  I want you to go to sleep and rest.  I just can’t,” I whispered lightly.

“You want to watch over me?”

“Yeah.”

“You already do.  Now, go to sleep, sweetheart.”

His words were fading and so was my strength to try to stay awake.  “Stay with me…”

“Dad?” I asked, unsure of what he was doing.

“Yeah?”

“What are all those for?” I asked, referring to the dozens of knives that covered every spot on the coffee table in the living room.  He sat before them all, looking them over before he stood up and faced me. 

“You’ll see,” he smiled. 

Just then, mom came down the stairs.  She was wearing her white gown and looked ready for bed.  Her feet bare against the floor as she walked, she came up to dad but stopped suddenly upon seeing all the knives on the table.  She looked up at dad and stared, recognizing him as a stranger. 

Dad suddenly grabbed her arm, forcing her to him roughly.  She tried shaking his grasp off, trying to back away as terror started to fill her.  The crazy look in his eye made an appearance. 

“What…?”

He slapped her across the face, cutting her words off and making her grunt as she stumbled back.  When she did, her back hit the door.  Before she could do anything else, dad grabbed a knife off the table, swiftly walking to her and driving the knife into her stomach.

I watched quietly standing there, not reacting.  Not caring though I could feel a tear fall and some form of emotion swelling in me.  But… I just stood there.  Watching my mother bleed.  Her lips parted, gasping hard as she was grabbing at her stomach, not sure what to do.  She tried moving, but when she did, dad went back to the table. Grabbing another knife, he went to her struggling body.  He knelt down and drove that knife into her side.  She collapsed back to the ground, on her stomach now and groaning.

“Janice,” she moaned, looking up at me.  I felt my heart freeze at the sight, but I just stood there.  As if I were only a witness to this and couldn’t act.  I wanted to help her, save her, but I was only an observer it seemed.

Dad grabbed another knife from the table, putting the blade on her other side.  A scream leaving her mouth, I watched in terror as dad grabbed the fourth knife.  He knelt down next to where she was gasping, trying to move.  She managed to pull herself along the floor.  She got a few feet until dad decided he was tired of watching the hopeless escape.  Driving the knife into her back, I watched helplessly.

With the few feet, she was able to drag herself, she left a smeared and wide trail of blood.  Now, more blood was leaving her through different points in her body.  Every knife dad used on her was still in her, the handle against the skin from where the blades were still buried in her flesh.  A knife sticking out of her back, one on each of her sides, and one stuck in her stomach.  She moaned and groaned as she breathed rapidly.