But he did.
And everything changed for the worse that day.
He was the first one I killed. I went straight to his house. He was there with his girl. He tried to play it off for her, like we needed bro time, but he knew what was going to happen before he even saw the gun I had pointed at him in my jacket.
I couldn’t look her in the face as she left. He didn’t even kiss her goodbye. I know he loved her, so maybe he thought it was better that way. If the last time she saw him he was a dick, maybe it’d be easier for her to get over him.
I kept waiting for him to reach for a gun, to plead for his life, or to at least deny everything. But when he shut the door and turned to me, he just shook his head and said he was sorry.
It fucking sucked pulling the trigger on him. The others, not so much. They didn’t see it coming. They didn’t even know I was still alive. It didn’t feel like much of anything for them. But for Vino, it felt like the end.
And that’s how it feels right now for us. But I won’t let it be the end.
I can fix this. I can give her what she needs to get better.
“I know she needs this. She’s got to have a little time to deal with what she’s been through.”
“She needs more than just a new place to live, Kane.” Vince tilts his head and cocks his brow. I know that, really I do. With all the shit she’s been through--it’s a miracle she made it out as well as she did. I should’ve known something was off. I fucking hate myself for not realizing how hurt she was.
“I know that. That’s why I want you to get her a job. She needs a normal routine.” I pause before adding, “I got her the psychiatrist too. Anthony told me to call Mae.” I had to get someone who knows what’s what and is trusted. She’s the familia shrink according to Anthony. I think it’s the only thing that will help and she was really receptive to it. I already scheduled an appointment for today. I told her I’d take her, but she didn’t want that. She wants to go by herself.
“What if,” Vince pauses, “What if when she’s better, she doesn’t wanna stay?”
I know what he’s really asking is: if once she’s better and she doesn’t want me, how am I going to react. What am I going to do once she comes to her senses and realizes she’s the one who deserves better?
“I don’t want to think about that, Vince,” I tell him simply.
“It’s a possibility, Kane. I like you and all. And I like her, so I’m going to do what I can to help. But when she’s doing better, if she wants out, I’m out.”
I nod my head and look back up at our place.
I fucking hope she still wants me after this.
I know I’ll still want her.
Ava
“My eyes are killing me.” I push the palms of my hands against my burning eyes. Fuck. The tears finally came back, with a vengeance.
“We can take a break if you need.” I hear Dr. Mae pull another tissue out of the box and I roll my eyes. I need to woman up and stop crying. I know it doesn’t do anything to help.
I reach for the tissue and try to calm my ass down.
“Let’s switch gears,” she says, as she picks up her pen to scribble something in the tiny pad on her lap.
In my head I call her the shrink, even though Doctor Amelia Mae doesn’t like to be called that. It doesn’t matter what I call her, she’s a doctor for people with mental issues. For the crazies. For me.
I feel comfortable in her office. She has a no shoe policy. It makes me feel more relaxed. I flex my toes into the plush carpet beneath my feet. My nose scrunches as I wonder how many other people do that. I pull up my legs to sit cross-legged on the leather couch. It’s a pretty dove grey and has a modern feel. Everything in the office looks modern and clean. And open. It has a very airy vibe. It makes me feel comfortable enough to talk at least. And I’m doing my best to do just that.
I fucking snapped. Out of nowhere. Well, that’s not true. I had triggers, and I did nothing about them. But I snapped, and I didn’t come to until Kane’s arms were around me.
If he hadn’t come to me...If he hadn’t seen me leave...
I don’t like to think of it. But I’m fairly certain I would’ve done it. I had the blade to my wrist. I remember thinking, just one quick move and it’s all over. But then I thought, I should just impale myself through the chest. It would be quicker.
Thank God that Kane grabbed me just then. He saved me. Again.
Dr. Mae pushes the thin, metal frame of her glasses higher up on her nose, quickly reading through her notes before looking up at me. “It’s been a week of big changes. How are you feeling?”
It’s been weeks of big changes, but I don’t correct her. That’d just be bitchy of me. This week seems just like the last one. Empty and boring.
“These meds are much better.” I start off with a positive. And it’s true. Whatever she has me on now is a shit-ton better than the first cocktail. It’s been two weeks since I left Kane to try and deal with my shit. I’m blaming the fucking meds on how god damned depressed I was the entire first week. I didn’t do a thing but sob uncontrollably into my pillow.
Every time I’d cry out his name, Kane would come running through the door within 15 minutes. He has to have my place bugged. I should be offended or angry, but I’m not. Maybe that makes me more sick than I thought I was. But I feel safe knowing he’s watching over me. My chest hurts, and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself.
I’d ask Kane to just hold me, and he would. No questions asked. It happened nearly every night for the first few nights. But on the fifth day without him, I cried myself to sleep alone. Waking up without him hurt so fucking much. But I need to take care of myself.
I need to do this on my own. I can’t rely on him.
“So no more negative thoughts?” the doctor asks.
“Of suicide, you mean?” I just want to be sure I know what she’s asking.
“Yes, or any thoughts of self-harm. Your nightmares increased on the other meds, but you didn’t say anything about any desire to hurt yourself.”
I nod my head as she takes off her glasses and folds them, holding them in her hands. “Right. Not since the wedding night. And the night terrors are gone now that I’m off the other meds.”
“That’s great to hear.” She puts the glasses back on and looks back down at the pad in her lap. “Now, how are you feeling on this prescription?”
“Normal. Just like before.”
“But before you were having occasional lapses? Have you had any this week?” she asks.
I shake my head. “None yet. I usually would have had a reminder or two by now.” That’s what I’m calling them, reminders.
“And how would you have reacted to those reminders in the past?”
“I would’ve thought I was a horrible person; thought I was undeserving. A lot of self-doubt.” My heart twists in my chest.
I didn’t deserve that. I wasn’t okay though. I don’t think I’m okay now, either. “I don’t feel like that now, but...” I trail off, twisting the tissue in my hands and start picking at the ends. I look out of the bright office window and wonder how I should word this.