Surviving Love Read online

  Surviving Love

  By: M.S. Brannon

  Copyright © 2014 M.S. Brannon. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission from the author. The exception would be in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews or pages where permission is specifically granted by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction and the events surrounding this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarity to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons live or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Photo Credit: Shutterstock

  Cover Design: Robin Ludwig Designs Inc

  Editing and Formatting: C&D Editing

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  ISBN-13: 978-1497452862

  ISBN-10: 1497452864

  I don’t wanna feel no more

  It’s easier to keep falling

  Imitations are pale

  Emptiness all tomorrow’s

  Haunted by your ghost

  Lay down, black gives way to blue

  Lay down, I’ll remember you

  Fading out by design

  Consciously avoiding changes

  Curtains drawn, now it’s done

  Silencing all tomorrows

  Forcing a goodbye

  Lay down, black gives way to blue

  Lay down, I’ll remember you

  ~Black Gives Way to Blue, Alice In Chains

  Chapter 1

  Drake

  My legs are moving; I’m stepping with one foot in front of the other. The weight of my baby girl in my arms is keeping me in the present as I walk from the funeral home toward the Chevelle. My body is weak—my heart has been broken into so many pieces I’m finding it impossible to stand after the agonizing loss of Presley. There is nothing left inside to bust because every vital thing that keeps me alive has shattered.

  The cool spring breeze connects with Mia’s face as she sucks in a breath then smiles, her grin stretching across her cheeks. I look into her eyes—Presley’s eyes—and get the small, rejuvenating bit of energy I need to keep going for just one more day.

  The night Presley died, I saw Carter’s gun lying on the concrete. It took an act of God not to pick up the pistol and end all of my suffering. If I didn’t have Mia, I can honestly say I’d be dead. Nothing in that moment felt worth living for until Mia’s precious face flashed into my mind; the thought of abandoning my daughter snapped me back from the darkest thoughts of my existence. I know I can’t give up on life right now.

  My mind is disconnected and my heart is an empty shell, yet this little angel needs her father. I won’t be like my parents. I won’t abandon my child because of my own selfishness. I have one more life to live for and she’s the only piece of Presley I have left. For Mia, I will go on. The road will be the hardest I’ll ever travel, but I’ve got to believe in the hope of my little Mia, and the hope my family will help carry me to a future.

  I lean down and strap Mia in her car seat. I press my lips to her forehead and whisper, “I won’t give up on you, my sweet girl. Just be patient with Daddy, okay?”

  I kiss her again on the top of her head and her small, soft hand touches my cheek. The water fills my eyes as this simple gesture from my one-year-old daughter tells me she understands. She may be a baby, however this little girl knows her daddy is barely hanging onto life.

  I walk to the other side of the car and then drive home, wiping the falling tears from my face. As I pull into the driveway, I’m reminded of the night Presley died—that night four days ago that has stripped my soul raw and left me a hollow, empty nothing.

  Mia has quickly fallen asleep on the short drive home, something she commonly does when she rides in the car. As gently as possible, I take her from her car seat and trudge up the stairs. This is the second time I’ve climbed the back stairs since Presley has died.

  Will I always do this—connect every moment I have back to the night she was killed? Will this be how I’m supposed to measure time? The thought disgusts me and slices me open all at once. Will I ever escape the pain?

  I kiss Mia before laying her down in her crib and then walk back to my room. I’ve spent the last four days holed up in this prison.

  I stare at our bed. The night before she died, we spent hours making love in this bed. I held her as we connected ourselves inside and out. Now, it’s just an empty reminder of something I will never have again. I stand there, staring intently at a symbol of the happiness I once felt. It’s now the agony I will never escape.

  I’m nineteen-years-old, and I’m almost completely dead on the inside. The smallest sliver of my heart that’s still alive is reserved for Mia. I will never love anyone as much as I loved Presley. And now, I have a lifetime of solitude to suffer through.

  However, when I close my eyes, she’s still here. Everywhere I turn, Presley is there. I can smell her soft, delicate skin and taste her sweet cherry lips. If I close my eyes hard enough I can see her lying underneath me in our bed. I can feel her warm, tiny body attached to mine as I express every ounce of love I have for her through my kiss. She is my heart and the other half of my life, and now, that life no longer exists.

  Tears break free once again and I allow them to fall down through the stubble grown across my face. The room is suffocating me. I’m choking on my own pain and need to leave. Just for a moment, I want to be numb of everything I’ve been through the last few days.

  I storm from my room and numb the only way my family knows how. Booze. I need to get drunk, just like I needed it four days ago. The house is quiet and my thoughts are raging, I need peace. Solace and peace.

  “God, just for a moment, can I please have that?” I beg into the open air.

  I yank open the door and pull the half empty bottle of whiskey left in the cupboard. Unscrewing the cap, I tip the glass to my lips and allow a few more tears to fall down my face.

  “Here’s to the rest of a useless life,” I toast to no one and chug down the whiskey. It instantly burns and calms my insides. The raging ocean of emotions I can’t seem to shake is finally subduing, and it’s welcome. Jack Daniels is always welcome to ease my agony. Always.

  I rip my tucked-in shirt from the waistband of my pants and move down the back stairs. The last time I wore this fucking shirt was when I saw Presley in rehab. I will never wear this piece of shit again. Still grasping the bottle, I rip open my shirt, popping buttons as my chest is exposed to the cold, damp air.

  I walk to the driveway and see the spot where I last held Presley alive. My boots scuff the pavement when I walk toward the dreaded spot. I hold the bottle to my lips again and chug. Then again and again. It’s burning my gut and suffocating my throat, but I keep gulping it down. My legs give out, collapsing to the concrete. The pain stings when my knees connect with the ground. I relish in it. It’s more welcome than the pain in my heart.

  “This is the only way I can get you out of my mind,” I whisper out loud to no one, or maybe to her, but I don’t fucking know. “I need you out of my mind. I need peace for just a day. I love you, Presley, but I just need peace.” I expel a deep breath and choke back another drink. “Don’t hate me, baby, but please…give me some peace.”

  I lay down on the cold concrete just as the rain begins to pick up again. I don’t care. I want to be in this spot. I want to be with her. And I want to be numb. I choke back a few more drinks until the b
ottle is empty then close my eyes, envisioning only her honey-brown irises and the world I will no longer possess.

  ***

  My head is throbbing and my gut is churning. I roll my neck to the side and feel the ache all the way down my shoulders. Where the hell am I? I crack my eyes open, causing a searing pain just to touch them. It’s too bright. Everything hurts.

  When I finally open my eyes fully, I can see I’m in the garage, sitting up on the couch with Jeremy asleep next to me. The Challenger is missing, which I find strange since Jeremy is passed out on the couch. The last thing I remember is falling onto the driveway with a bottle of Jack in my hands. I was begging to be numb and it looks like I got my wish.

  I sit forward and roll my shoulders around, loosening them slightly, then expel a deep breath. Drinking is one way to kill the pain inside my heart, but now I feel worse inside and out. Fuck! I can’t get a break.

  Standing from the couch, I see my shirt is torn and my pants feel stiff. Jeremy awakens on the couch and looks just as bad as I feel. I can tell he hasn’t slept in days and it appears he may have lost a little weight. I immediately sympathize for him. If he feels half as bad as I do, I can’t imagine how I look.

  “Hey,” Jeremy whispers as he stands beside me. He rolls his shoulder around, just as I did, and stretches his arms above his head.

  “How did I get in here?”

  “You were passed out in the middle of the driveway. I almost hit you with the car. The three of us drug you in here and I stayed to keep an eye on you.” Jeremy moves to the mini fridge and pulls out two cans of Mountain Dew. He motions with his eyes, asking if I want a drink, and I extend my arm out, taking it from him.

  My mouth is dry and I welcome the moisture from the soda as I chug most of it in one huge swallow. “Sorry I took up the couch. I know how you like sleeping in here. Where’s your car?”

  Jeremy looks me in the eyes then quickly looks down at his feet. “Jake busted in needing the car. God only knows where he’s going, but it’s no problem…staying in here. Reggie wouldn’t let you be left alone. You were in pretty bad shape. The drunkest I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah, well, a bottle of whiskey will do that to you,” I snap back, not realizing how cruel I sound. “Look, Jeremy, I’m sorry. I just...just…” I can’t form a sentence. I’m afraid that, if I talk about her, I will break down again. I don’t want to break down any more, however as her face passes through my memory, the tears once again surface.

  Before I can stop myself, I collapse onto the couch and begin to sob all over again. The hurt living inside my chest is too much and I can’t hold it in. I fold forward, cupping my face in my hands. The moisture of my tears is soaking my palms as the hurt keeps falling from my eyes. I want to stop this pain more than I want to breathe, yet it just keeps festering inside of me, refusing to let go.

  The couch concaves next to me and Jeremy’s warm hand comes to my shoulder. He doesn’t say a word. His hand merely squeezes and releases with every onslaught of emotion bleeding from my wounded insides.

  This is exactly what I need. My family will stand behind me no matter what. They will take my pain as their own just to relieve me of it; if only for a brief time. Jeremy and I never really had conversations beyond cars and girls, but once Presley got back from rehab, he’s made it a point to talk to me more, and now, his comforting hand is speaking to me. It tells me he will always be there for me. I know I will be able to overcome this eventually, and it’s moments like this that will keep a small sliver of hope alive inside of me.

  Several minutes go by before I can calm myself down enough to speak. I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand and look over to Jeremy, feeling slightly embarrassed at my actions. Jeremy just claps me on the back, giving me a comforting smile in return.

  “Sorry, man,” I whisper.

  “Look, Drake, there’s something we need to talk about. Something you need to know and I want to tell you, but I don’t know how.” As Jeremy leans back against the couch, I can tell he’s torn up with his thoughts. Actually, I’ve never seen him so upset. Something’s obviously bothering him, however to be honest, I can’t hear anything right now. My emotions are on overload and stripped raw. If one more thing gets added to my shoulders, it will break me for good.

  “Hey, we’ve got time. Just tell me later, okay? I don’t think I can handle anything else right now.” I stand from the couch and move to the garage door.

  Jeremy looks down to his feet and back up to me, “Yeah, brother, we’ve got time.”

  I walk from the garage and from the look of torturous pain written all over his face. I don’t want to think about that now. I just need to think about moving ahead and not falling behind. I have a daughter to raise; I can’t afford more shit weighing on my conscience.

  Chapter 2

  Drake

  Once I clamber inside, I notice the house is dark and quiet. It’s after three in the morning and I’m wide awake. Too wake. I don’t like being this alert. It makes life too much of a reality, and I don’t want anything in my life to be real at this moment. I’m still seeking peace for a few more hours.

  I move to the living room and sit down in the recliner. As I flip through the channels, I come across The Notebook on a movie channel and my peace is soon interrupted. Fate has a way of making you face your challenges head on, which is what it’s done with this on the screen.

  I close my eyes, allowing the glow from the TV to illuminate my eyes behind my lids, and like a movie playing in my head, I’m brought back to the last time I watched this movie with Presley.

  She was tucked into my side with her fingers slowly dancing across my stomach. I had initially thought I wouldn’t make it through the first thirty minutes because, with every emotionally filled scene, she’d grip my shirt and her fingers would graze the skin of my abdomen. Her touch was driving me crazy.

  I looked over at Presley’s face and knew life couldn’t get any better. I remember thinking how amazed I was with my life, especially after the drugs and rehab, because here we were and life was good.

  When she finally noticed I was looking at her, she started to blush and whispered, “What?”

  “Nothing,” was all I had to say. Presley climbed over onto my lap and straddled her legs on either side of me.

  When her lips pressed to mine, I was helplessly falling once again for this woman’s charms. I’d fallen time and time again when it came to her and every time felt like it was the best.

  I wrapped one arm around her waist and the other crawled up her back until my palm was wrapped around her neck, pushing her closer to my body and deeper into our kiss. I then stood from the couch and moved into our room, holding onto the very precious life of the woman I loved.

  We made love for hours that night. I tasted, licked and caressed very inch of her soft skin. I remember thinking when we were all done and Presley was fast asleep in my arms, how blessed I really was. I’d never been a godly man because growing up in Sulfur Heights often left you wondering if a God exists. The crimes, drugs and hate living on every corner made you question faith all together. But that night, when I reflected on all the obstacles we’d overcome, I had known there had to be a God because no one on earth was as lucky as I was in that very moment.

  What do I think about God now? For starters, I think he’s got a demented sense of humor—he’s a twisted, sick fuck. I can safely say that I hate God right now.

  I’ve spoken to him many times, at first begging him to take care of Presley when she was in rehab, and then again, pleading with him for her to come back to me after she died. Only a God who’s spiteful would do this to us. I may hate him forever. There’s no way someone should go through everything Presley and I were forced to go through only for this be our ending. At the age of nineteen, she’s six feet under and I’m left to raise our one-year-old daughter and live the rest of my life with a piece of me missing.

  My lids open and I allow my eyes to focus again. The memories are too v
ivid for me to handle right now. I get up from the chair and move to the kitchen. Tucked in the back of the cupboard, I find another bottle of booze and chug it down just as quickly as the bottle of whiskey. I move to my room and strip myself from my clothes.

  Tomorrow I will focus on moving forward, but tonight, I want to stay right where I was before she died. I want to keep myself in the past just for a few more hours.

  ***

  Reggie has informed me that I only have two weeks leave from work then I need to be back to reality. When he told me this, I thought to myself, How the hell is someone supposed to go on with life as normal when nothing is normal at all. However, after a week of walking around the house watching everyone else tiptoe around me, I will be ready for some normalcy.

  The past ten days have flown by, probably because I can’t live in my bubble anymore, but time has also stood still. Agony and torment do not take vacation, and now I’m forced to deal with it in my real life.

  There is no more pretending. I have to deal with people outside my house, and they will surely ask how I’m doing. I’m not sure I’m ready for that, yet I need to work, and I need to move forward.

  I called the plant manager last night, letting him know that I will be returning tomorrow. Reggie and Darcie have been a great help with Mia, knowing I’m slowly starting to come back to life but still struggling everyday with Presley’s absence. I haven’t talked to Jeremy since that night in the garage. I know something is off with him because he’s absent more than he is around lately. Then there’s Jake. His usual infectious personality has been gone since Presley died. I can’t help but think something has happened between him and Delilah. Only Delilah can get him feeling this way. I wonder when he will actually realize she’s crazy about him. Do I really want to see the two of them happy just the way Presley and I used to be, though? I’m not sure if I can manage that.