The apartment was destroyed. I had even smashed the television. I’d slung the end table at it in my fit of rage. I stood among the broken pieces of furniture and felt completely numb. The blood on my knuckles was crusted over. I hadn’t taken the time to wash it off after I’d put my fist through the wall three different times.
I had called her all night. Every time it went straight to her voicemail. Her phone was off. I grabbed my phone to try again, and like the other fifty times I had called, it went to voicemail. I had gone after them, but his car was gone. I didn’t know if they went east or west on the interstate. I had tried going east, but after an hour and nothing, I had gone the other way. Stopping, I had called her phone and voicemail. Afraid she was back home, that he hadn’t taken her out of town, I headed back to the apartment and knocked on her door and waited for over fifteen minutes. She never came. She wasn’t there.
“Shiiiiit,” Preston drawled as he walked into the apartment. Turning, I glanced over at Rock, Trisha, and Preston. Green must have called them. He had come home an hour ago and just stared at me.
All I’d been able to say was “She left me.”
Green hadn’t been able to say anything back.
“Oh, Krit,” Trisha said as she walked over pieces of broken table and pulled me into her arms. I went, but I couldn’t lift my arms to cling to her. Trisha was the only one who would know. The last time I had experienced a rage like this was when I’d been told my uncle Mick was dead. He had been the only adult I trusted. The one who was there when I needed him. I had torn our trailer to shreds, smashing everything I touched. My damage hadn’t been this severe though. I was stronger now.
“Dude, this is f**ked up. Manda left me once and I was shattered, man, but this . . . Hell, I never smashed up my place.” Preston said.
“Shut up,” Rock ordered him.
“She just needs some time to think. She’ll come back, baby. You’re going to hurt yourself. You can’t react this way. I’ll go with you to get your meds. You can get on them again. I was okay with you not taking them because you’ve been so good for years. Nothing ever got to you so you never lost it. But I think now, until . . . I think you need to take the medication again.” Trisha’s worried tone normally made me feel guilty. Right now I was ripped open.
“I’ve been so mad before, I threatened to rip shit apart. But hell . . . I never actually started ripping shit apart,” Preston said, amazement still in his voice.
“Dude, shut up,” Rock said, shoving him this time before walking over to hand Trisha a small bag. It was from the local pharmacy.
I shook my head and stepped out of my sister’s arms. I wasn’t going back on the meds they gave me for my ADHD, and I wasn’t going to take the damn antidepressants I knew were in that bag. I hated taking those meds. I hated how they made me feel. They changed me. I’d controlled myself for years. I could get control again. I just had to get Blythe back.
“If you don’t take them, then you’re going back to the house with us. Green loves you, but you’re scaring him. He doesn’t know what to do with you. And you’ve got to clean this mess up. Rock brought Preston in case we had to hold you down, but they are also here to help fix this mess. Focus on cleaning up, and we’re gonna help you replace stuff. Especially Green’s stuff. She will come back. She just needs time, baby. She just needs time.”
“I can’t lose her.”
Trisha glanced over at Rock and frowned. Then she squeezed my arm. “I know. She loves you. Anyone could see that. She’ll be back.”
“Have you talked to Britt today?” Rock asked.
I tensed.
“Rock,” Trisha warned.
“He has to be a man, Trish. He’s got a girl pregnant and he has to deal with that, too.”
“If that baby is really mine, then I’ll take care of what’s mine. But Britt hasn’t even brought me proof from the doctor yet. I’m waiting on that.”
Rock nodded. “Fair enough. Don’t trust her anyway. And she’ll be shit for a mom. Kids gonna need you if she is pregnant.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. I hadn’t thought of anything but Blythe.
“Let’s get this place cleaned up. We can talk about it all later,” Trisha said, walking over to Rock.
I reached down and picked up some of the Sheetrock I had busted up. I had done a number on the place. I’d checked out mentally and lost it.
“Maybe you should take a picture of this place and send it to the preacher’s son. Bet he runs like hell,” Preston said as he tossed a piece of wood over into a pile.
“He better run fast” was all I said.
* * *
Green showed back up, and with the four of us working, it took five hours to clean the place out. Rock called a buddy of his that did Sheetrock to patch the place, and then he took Green to go replace the flat-screen and other necessary pieces of furniture we needed. I gave them my credit card and told them to put everything on there. I wasn’t letting Trisha and Rock pay for my shit.
It was evening by the time we were done and Green was getting ready to head to Live Bay. I couldn’t go. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to go again. He wasn’t complaining. He said they had it under control. I let him deal with it.
Taking my seat at the window, I watched for her to come home. I called her phone again, and her recorded voice came on. I listened to her until the phone beeped, then I hung up. I’d left enough messages. So I sent her a text message instead.