Page 43 of Guilty Minds
I know Freya struggles with the animosity between myself and Justin, so cutting some time spent with her might be a good idea. For her mental health. She’s in the middle of a war zone without a bulletproof vest and suffers from this situation, too. Just differently. I don’t want to lose her by stepping out of our friendship so she can have peace. I’m a horrible, selfish person.
I settle in my seat, turning my car on. “Why the hell did I have to crush on such an asshole for half of my life! It's not fair!" I slam my hand on the car horn, scaring some birds nearby. I do it a few more times to make myself feel a little better. It works, but not by much.A lady walking by with a full cart turns her nose up in disgust. I flip her off, and her eyes turn round. Look at her, so scandalized! Her face, full of horror, makes me feel a little better. I take a breath, count to ten, and drive home.
When the sun's almost down, I sit outside in a pair of long, flannel pants I've had since high school and a light, soft cardigan with no shirt or bra underneath, basking in the fresh air. A weird outfit for a not-so-hot summer evening? Sure, but oh so comfortable. My mood is better, and I slowly become calmer, surrounded by twittering birds and the fading light of a beautiful Maine sunset.
Holding a warm cup of tea between my hands and a small plate of food on the table I have set up, I relax and let my worries wash away as the breeze blows through my hair. This is just what I needed: a moment of peace alone with myself. I put on the perfect outfit, complete my entire skincare routine, and make my amazing dinner. For the first time today, I can smell the scent of hope in the air.
If Freya was free, I would have asked if she wanted to join me. I have this field all to myself, and I love her company. But she mentioned something about being busy this week, so I'm alone with my tired self. Sipping from my cup and lazily chewing my dinner, I glance at my sketchbook nearby, open it, and make a quick little sketch of one of the birds perched in the tree in front of me.
And that’s when I hear it.
The revving of a truck’s engine and lights flashing over my eyes successfully interrupt my relaxing time. Holly hell.Why? Why now and why today?Zipping up my cardigan, I cover my face with my arm, pretending that if I see no evil, there is no evil.I’m still all alone, completely al
"You're so fucking annoying. You're truly the most obnoxious fucking thing in this whole town. Stuck in my mind, and I can't get rid of you. Get the fuck out of my head!" Justin starts bellowing at me as soon as the truck door opens. He reminds me of a little rodent running around squeaking. I sigh, lowering my arm. I guess my plan doesn't exactly work if I can't save myself fromhearingthe evil. His steps seem to be a little wobbly. Knowing it's only been a couple hours since I last saw him, I'm guessing he had already been drinking by the time I saw him at the grocery store. If not, it's surprising that he managed to drink that much in such a short period of time to get himself absolutely drunk. Because the guy seems wasted. Just what I need today. Great.
The nonsense he’s spurting is lost on me. It doesn’t make any sense. If anything, he’s the one who’s been stuck in my head for years, so I’m in the right here, thank you very much.
He walks toward me and stumbles, barely catching himself before he falls face-first on the ground. By the time he manages to cross the path between his car and the table I'm currently sitting at, he almost falls three times.
“Justin, sit down before you fall,” I sigh and push a chair closer to him. I’m a little fearful of him on a good day, and I don’t know how unpredictable he can be in a drunken state. Despite everything, I’m worried about his well-being, even through his insults. He’s one of my biggest weaknesses, someone I can’t seem to escape. Any shrink would have a field day with me, I’m sure of it. Appearing angry, he obeys and roughly sits in the chair, making it creak a little under his massive figure. "I don't think you should drive, so when you calm down a little, I'll take you home."
I’m a bigger person.I tell myself.I’m a bigger person, and I will absolutely not use this moment to stab this fork into his eye even if the opportunity is present.I keep repeating the mantra, hoping I’ll convince myselfeventually.
I move back to the chair I was perched in moments ago, picking at my food until he interrupts.
“Why do you act like this? What’s wrong with you?” His voice is unsteady, as are his movements. I’m surprised he managed to make it here without winding up. in some ditch. "Why are you so… fuckingnice?” He spits the word like something poisonous and foreign to him.
"Nothing's wrong with me, Justin; you've been drinking, and to deliver you home safely is the decent thing to do. You want some water?” I talk to him like I would a small child because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should never aggravate drunk people unless you know they’re total teddy bears. Justin doesn’t look or sound like one.
“No, I don’t want your poisoned piss water.” He snorts too loudly, making a weird noise that makes me want to chuckle.
“Tough luck, you’re out of options.” Rolling my eyes, I get up and give him an unopened bottle of water, watching him sniff it first. “You’re such a sicko. I moved out here to get away from people. I like my privacy and peace. But here you are, interrupting my peace over and over again.” My own advice not to aggravate him seems long forgotten.
Plopping back in my seat, I shovel my food in my mouth, hoping to make him want to leave sooner by being a little unmannered. Instead, I see him out of the corner of my eye, dragging his chair closer and making himself comfortable. He’s watching me. Unbearably aware of his eyes glued to me, I eat in smaller bites, stopping altogether as he gets closer. The sun's light has faded by now, and my lights hanging from the camper illuminate the surrounding area in a soft glow.
“Those tattoos drive me insane. You know that, right? The needle that pierced your skin, leaving a permanent mark on it. On you. The mark that you will never be able to erase.” Justin mutters and touches my arm. The sleeve of my cardigan rolls up, showing a rose with spikes. Each one represents a year of my life that I keep adding. "Like I cannot erase you from me no matter how much I try. You're tattooed on my skin.” Confused, I retract my arm from his touch, frustrating him. He pulls himself closer, and his legs are touching my chair. Taking my arm in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip, he looks at the ink laid bare on my skin. “You were always around every corner I turned,” he mumbles, touching a lock of my hair with his other hand. "Your hair was different back then, pink." He chuckles to himself. "I don't even know what your natural color is. I don't remember. I like it now, though; it suits you.” He frowns at what he just said and drops my hair. Then it’s my turn to frown as he leans down and licks the tattoo, making me reel back. “It doesn’t taste weird like I thought it would.”
“It isn’t pen ink, you dumbass,” I huff and watch him sit back with a huff. “What?”
“You should wear baggy clothes,” Justin’s getting tired. I can tell by how pouty he’s acting. Usually, he’s all big man intimidating me and insulting my every move. Now, he almost seems like a little toddler, mumbling nonsense.
“What?” I shake my head. “Never mind. I think it’s time to take you home. Get in the passenger side of my car; you can come get your truck tomorrow.”When I’m not around, I add mentally. He tries to stand up but stumbles a little. I rush to help him, but he pushes me off and stomps toward my car, slamming the door and cursing under his breath. A little tantrum we have here. There it is, the Justin I know well these days, angry and always upset at me without telling me why. What did I do wrong, now? I told him I'd drive him home, so he won’t die in a car crash. I just can’t win with him.
Plucking my keys from inside the house, I drive him back to his, letting him mess with the radio. I don't want to argue; I just want to get back to my relaxing night and get rid of the big, burly problem currently occupying my passenger seat.
Dropping him off at his garage, I speed away the second his feet hit the pavement.
Back at my trailer, it’s quiet and peaceful again, but my tea has bugs in it, so I pour it out. I go to bed early, exhausted from the events of the day. I don't wake up until later to a knock on my door.
It’s rather disturbing, considering I don’t get visitors here. So I put on a robe, grab Bob, check if he’s loaded, and check the peephole to see who’s here. As it’s still dark outside and about four in the morning, I groan and lean the gun on the wall.
“What?!” I ask, grumpy from getting disturbed so early in the morning. Justin stands there. Glancing down, I take a sharp breath and tie up my robe before he notices I'm wearing only a thin cami, my nipples on full display from the chilly air. By the look on his face, though, I can tell he already saw me.
“Little chilly to be wearing so little, don’t you think?” Smug and standing there with his hands in his pockets, he looks as though he has sobered up. Not that he’s any better than when he was drunk earlier, but a sober head is more predictable.
“Can you just get your truck and go, please?” Impatient and tired, I can see him contemplating something as he stares off to the side. “What, did you forget your keys and your dignity?”
“Would you shut up for one damn minute?” Justin snaps at me as he steps up into my trailer. The movement makes me stumble back, and I trip over my own feet. He has to move his shoulders sideways to fit through the door, and I wrap my arms around my stomach as anxiety and excitement hit me simultaneously due to his proximity to me. A sicko. "Alright, I came up here all drunk and mad before and don't remember half of it, so thanks for driving me back." He says without looking at me. Instead, his focus is solely on the wall clock above the fridge.
