Author's note:
Thank you for reading, rating, favoriting, commenting, and sending feedback as these chapters have been posted. I appreciate it all.
The final chapter of Messy contains only one sex scene. If that's what you've been reading for, you can stop reading after it occurs in the first half.
The second half contains descriptions of injury. I tried to write it as distantly and clinically as possible, keeping the language similar to other scenes I have read on this site. If you are offended or bothered, please stop reading after the sex scene.
***
"Dammit girl, pick up..."
I paced by the metal barrier at the edge of The Curve. My jeep's headlights cut a cone in the darkness ahead of it, but all around me was dark, the tips of the trees just barely kissed by the moon. I'd stopped here to Skype Jessie, to say goodbye, to tell her I would get to see her again soon. To see her one last time in case the worst happened this week.
The screen went black and then a fuzzy, barely lit picture of Jessie appeared, staring up into her camera from where she lay in bed. "Gary?" she coughed. "Is everything ok? Its four in the morning."
I smiled at the vampiric beauty looking at me, and wished...I wished that life was different. That I was different. I wished I could be with her. Wished I'd never met her. Wished I didn't want to be laying next to her... Because as strong as that aching need was, my place was here, with Tori. That knowledge and need was stronger. Infinitely stronger.
"No, it's not ok..." I told her.
And when I was done, she just stared at the phone camera, speechless. "Are YOU ok?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I...I'm worried about you. I can't believe this is happening."
"Me either. But I'll be fine. Gonna stay at my cabin for a week, and then the weekend after that, I come to Milwaukee again. How does that sound?"
Jessie gave me a sad smile. "I'd like that."
"Same here. Go back to bed now. I'll Skype you next week when this is over, ok?"
"Good. Stay safe, Gary."
"I will," I said, and it felt like a lie. I couldn't promise that at all.
"Goodnight," I whispered, and hung up.
Then I dialed Sienna. The phone rang and rang, and rather than leave her yet another message asking her to confirm that she was driving out of state, I killed the call.
Dammit, my heart hurt.
I got back into the jeep and looked over at Tori, sitting in the passenger seat with her rifle between her knees. "Its just you and me now, neighbor."
She chuckled and I started the jeep up again and resumed driving.
Just like it's always been.
The cabin was dark when we arrived, and we approached with headlights off, crept around it with guns low and ready, checking for signs of disturbance. None, and I pulled the jeep into the garage, unlocked the door, and stalked through the empty house making sure all the shades were pulled before starting to turn on the lights. I definitely wanted the house to look deserted from the outside.
Bags slung into the bedroom, and I stalked back out into the kitchen, went straight to the liquor cabinet, and after a moments consideration, poured myself three fingers of Chopin. I sipped at the harsh liquid and resisted the urge to down the glass and pour another.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Tori asked. She was making a sandwich by the sink, and I joined her, made myself a ham and cheese.
"Maybe not. Right now though, I'll try anything I think might help."
She nodded and chewed. "Maybe that's why you shouldn't."
I rolled my eyes. "Ok, mom."
She elbowed me and giggled, and a little bit of tension chipped off the massive iceberg in the room.
I took the first shift of watch, sitting on the couch with a rifle on my knees or pacing through the house while Tori tried to sleep. Dawn came as I waited for my death to come, light breaking through the shades as I sat, the house starting to glow with morning sun as I walked.
I could SEE us all there. In the rooms, around the table, peeking out through the deck door blinds I could vividly imagine the grass covered with snow and the three of us making tracks in it.
It didn't matter what three of us I imagined - it was always me and Tori, and a third. Nina or Sienna, the memories hurt just as much. Nina was dead and Sienna was dead to me, and even if I had a time machine I couldn't fix either of those events. I was a victim, reacting instead of acting, and all of my actions were predetermined by the man I was. I couldn't do anything different, even if I had wanted to.
I couldn't keep Nina alive. I couldn't keep Sienna safe and not hurt her. All I could do was walk the lonely rooms for a week and wait for a sign that someone was either going to try to kill me, or it was safe to return home.
And try to ignore the memories crowding this space.
I slept fitfully that morning while Tori stood watch, and I couldn't help but stare at the ceiling and wish I could take the similar pain and burden that she felt and carry it on my shoulders. Sleep came late and was interrupted often by the creak of the floors settling under Tori's feet, the flush of the toilet, the opening of the refrigerator door. To my stressed mind, all were signs of impending death, and my ears involuntarily strained to hear each one.
We shared a meal that afternoon and evening, and rather than read or watch TV, Tori went to bed early, resting up for standing watch that night. Or rather, she tried to.