Page 55 of Save Me

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Jax sits atthe kitchen table, his back to me as he talks to Ryan about something. The two of them have been here for the better part of an hour, their focus solely on the discussion at hand.

With the sound of the running water in front of me and the kettle coming to a boil, I can’t quite hear everything they’re saying, but even though I can’t see Jax’s face, I know the conversation is intense. Jax barely moves, and if it weren’t for the occasional frustrated sigh, I’d think he was a statue. Ryan is sitting across from him and I can see his emotions written clearly across his face, a mix of frustration, anger, and annoyance as their conversation continues.

I zone out from their conversation, knowing I could join them if I wanted to, but uninterested in spending the rest of my night talkingbusinessafter spending hours this week trying to learn the ins and outs of their operation at Poison Ivy. I was relieved to hear that I’m able to do most of the work from his office and I won’t have to go back to the club too often. A small part of me misses it there, but the rest of me balks at the idea of going back on a regular basis. The aftershocks of my visit this week has weighed heavily on me and nightmares have plagued me constantly since.

I dip my hands into the hot water in front of me, searching for the dishes that have been submerged. The heat bites at my wrists, but I find comfort in the sensation as I pick up the first of the dinner plates to wash. Jax has a dishwasher, but I’vebeen doing my dishes by hand since I moved out of my parents’ house so it’s practically a habit by now—not to mention there’s something peaceful about this. I dip my hands into the water again as a few bubbles float past my face, reminding me of summers spent outside as a child, chasing them around the yard. I think about the innocence and safety in my life that I used to be so blissfully unaware of, able to take it for granted as I spent my days playing.

I lift a plate out of the water, rinsing it off after a final scrub with the bright sponge in my hand, and carefully stack it next to the rest.

Wash.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Everything around me fades as I repeat the mundane task in front of me, and I allow my thoughts to wander wherever they want.

Bad. Idea. Evi.

I hear the warning but refuse to listen to it, perhaps tired of spending so much energy keeping everything locked down. A part of me is curious about where my thoughts will go if I give them free rein, if I’ll find any sense of my old self deep within me.

My thoughts go a mile a minute, and I’m flooded by the memories that keep replaying in my brain. Getting dropped off for my last shift, walking through the heavy doors and into Poison Ivy. The crunch of the gravel parking lot. The masked figure in front of me. Rhett. Bryce. Tanner. And everything I felt during my time away from here. My thoughts spiral until I start to feel physically sick, overwhelmed by the dark memories.

It’s too much. It’s all too much to handle.

I let my hands sink beneath the water as I lose myself in the thoughts that swirl around my head.

Who am I anymore? Am I still the same person I was before all of this? How could that even be possible?

My breathing starts to pick up and I try to ground myself, to take deep breaths just like Jax has helped me with countless times.

I count slowly as I try to steady my breathing, try to bring myself back to the present moment, but it doesn’t work this time. Instead, the habit I’ve come to rely on, the one that reminds me I’m still here, still me, and helps me make sense of everything inside of me, rears its ugly head. Without thinking twice my fingernail begins to create a slow, deliberate motion over the side of my thumb over and over again until my nail bites through the raw skin, and I feel the sting deep within me. But it doesn’t calm me. I keep scratching, harder and faster, waiting for the relief to come, waiting for the physical pain to distract me from my thoughts, but it doesn’t. I close my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay while I try not to spiral, try not to think about what I’ll do if this stops working, stops calming me down.

I jump as I hear a clang, opening my eyes and scanning the room, only to find Ryan looking right at me, his brow furrowed and eyes searching mine, the glass in his hand sitting firmly on the table.

He raises an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Are you okay?’

I nod quickly before I get back to washing the remaining dishes, picking up the forks, the spoons, and then the knives, one at a time and washing them slowly.

I pause as I wash a paring knife, its handle light in my hand, as I carefully move the sponge over the razor-sharp blade at the other end.

The sudsy water makes my hand slip and the sharp edge of the knife catches the tip of my finger. I draw in a breath, quickly assessing the damage. A small bead of blood pools before running down my finger, and it doesn’t hurt at all.

By the time I wash and dry my hands, the bleeding has stopped, and neither Jax or Ryan are aware of what has just transpired.

I let them know that I’m headed to bed, and they look up from their conversation for only a second before getting right back to whatever it is they’re planning.

I turn around and walk out of the kitchen, but not before discreetly grabbing the knife off the counter.

*

I breathe asigh of relief once I make it to the bedroom, shutting the heavy door behind me.

I don’t know why I’m so on edge, this is as much my house as it is theirs at this point, and it’s not as if they are keeping tabs on all the kitchen utensils.

I walk over to the bed, the hard floors cold against my feet, and not for the first time I can’t help but think of my old apartment and how much I miss walking on wooden floors.

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