The Wanted

For a moment, it felt good. Her lips were soft and warm on my neck. There was no small callous, in the corner, where she chewed on it when she was thinking. She pressed me against the wall, her breasts squashed against my chest. The wet stones behind me seeped into my shirt as she ran her hands under my clothes, her smooth palms gliding over my back. Her hands were like silk. She didn’t have a chipped fingernail that always seemed to catch on my skin.

I moaned and grasped at her waist. She felt strong. Her hipbones didn’t jut out. I grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. She didn’t put her ear to my heart. She just pushed against me harder, until I was bending into the curve of the stones behind me. Her lips went to mine, and our mouths parted. The taste of her lips was wrong. I breathed in through my nose and the scent of her hair, like artificial lemon, was wrong. My chin dipped to meet her head, but I didn’t need to lean down very far to reach her. Wrong. She didn’t need to stand on her toes to kiss me. It was all wrong.

I battled with myself. The swirl of too many drinks and my self-pity was wi

And I didn’t care.

I switched places with her, so her back was against the wall, and pulled her shirt over her head. She was breathing hard. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had ceased to be. Nothing mattered, because I just didn’t want to feel this way anymore. I kissed her neck, and she gasped. Her short hair didn’t get in the way. Wrong. She started unbuttoning my shirt. Wrong. I stilled her hasty hands and pulled it over my head in one swift movement. She touched me, and it felt warm and cold at the same time.

Her hands moved down as she toyed with my pants button. I paused. But I was fast tipping over into oblivion, which was what I wanted. Right?

Was I going to do this? My body answered and I allowed her to flick the button open, her hands dancing over my waistband.

A rustle near the entrance caused us both to freeze, but then nothing followed.

“I’ve wanted this from the day I met you,” she whispered breathlessly, which sounded cheesy.

I tried to ignore the blaring in my head. The voice and the warning. It was louder now as the alcohol started to wear off. Because I didn’t really want her, I hadn’t been thinking of her, of this at all. She was a distraction and I wanted her to stop talking, to stop making me think about things.

Before she could say anything else, I closed my mouth over hers. She moaned in approval as my hand moved to her bra, and my fingers fumbled with the clasp.

A crunch on the gravel and a loud sigh stopped me dead. “You’ve given up,” he said, just a shadow in the entrance of the tu

My arms dropped to my sides like lead weights. Because that wasn’t even it. This had nothing to do with how I felt about Rosa and everything to do with how I felt about me. What was left of me.

Rash stepped into the tu

“Leave,” he said flatly.

“Joe?” she questioned.

It was all wearing off now, my legs started to shake, and I crumpled to the ground. I reached out my hands and grasped the rails in front of me. “Please. I think you should go. I’m sorry.”

She sighed haughtily. I felt bad that I’d dragged her into my mess. It wasn’t fair.

“I think you were right all those weeks ago, Joe. We should have just been friends.” She patted my back gently. “I hope it’s not too late for that.”

God. I didn’t deserve her kindness. She pulled her shirt on and left.

“Wait!” I shouted after her, and I heard Rash groan. She turned around. “Can you find your way back?”

Her head bobbed. “You’re a good guy, Joe. Don’t worry about me. I plotted this route hours ago. How do you think I got you here so easily?” she said, unapologetically.

Right. I was just a clueless idiot. She tramped down the hill towards the camp.

What the hell had I done?

I heaved but nothing came out. I couldn’t even get that relief.

Rash put his hand on my back. “I’d punch you, but at this point, it’d be like kicking a dog when it’s already chewed its own legs off and it’s begging me to end its suffering.”

No one could end my suffering. I gripped the rails like I was trying to pull them from the ground. Rash stood over me in judgment. As he should.

“I haven’t given up. I know she’s alive,” I said to his darkening shadow.

He took a step back from me, in disgust.

“You know, she chose you. And I guess I’d always assumed it was for a reason, that you deserved her.”

“Maybe I did. But I don’t anymore.”

“And what? You thought you should just add an extra nail to your coffin? Why the hell would you do this, do… her?” He pointed down the hill.

A self-pitying sob escaped my lips. “I don’t know. I was trying to forget.”

Rash’s exasperated voice pi

No and Yes. I shook my head, empty of answers. “You don’t know what I’ve done, Rash.”

“Do you?” he asked sharply.

I sat back in the gravel. “What do you mean?”

“Do you actually remember what you did?” he challenged, pointing a finger at my heart.

“I remember enough.” Their faces after. All the blood.

He ran his hands through his hair, clasped them behind his head, and a landslide of curses poured from his mouth. “Get up.”

“What?” I sniffed.

“Get up, man,” he snapped angrily. “If you really believe she’s alive, then stop being such a dickhead. Ugh! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get it together. Like now. And I suggest you talk to Deshi, like really talk to him about what happened. You’re an idiot. And right now, I should kick your ass for it.”

I stood up. He was right. I nearly did the worst thing I could have ever done to her. We wouldn’t have come back from it.

I was broken. But if I’d slept with Elise, there would have been no way of putting me, or us, back together. I’d like to think I would have stopped myself, but I just didn’t know.

I owed Rash my life.

ROSA

Colors cross my life unexpectedly. They come in streams and strokes. But at the moment, in this part, where I can no longer find myself, they are broad splashes of red against black with deep fingernails scratches dragging across the surface. Nothing else. Because I am losing my light.

I had to fight off darker thoughts. I had a shield in my hands. It was gold; it felt light and warm in my hands. I paced around Judith’s room, picking up random items, inspecting them and throwing them back into place. If this didn’t work, I didn’t even know what would happen to Gwen. Dr. Yashin never told me. I could tell from the way she hugged herself, the way her eyes pooled with moisture, shining like glass, that it was bad. Really bad. Gwen didn’t deserve to die like that. I shook my head and tried to stop myself from going back to the thought that continually plagued me. Did anyone deserve to die?

“No. Stop,” I said to my reflection, slapping my hands down on the dresser, beads and necklaces jingling and swaying in front of the mirror me. I couldn’t think like that.

I sat on my bed and clasped my hands tight, then released them, throwing my hands above my head. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Falling back on the bed, I closed my eyes.

Joseph, where are you now? I know you’re thinking of me. I feel it. It presses out of my chest like rays of light splitting my ribs. I want you to know that you’re always on my mind, in my heart. Memories will keep me going, but they’re like feeding a spoonful of rice to a starving person. It’s not enough, never enough. I need the real thing.