chapter 7
Taylor
Megan. My girlfriend of three years, now an ex, just gave me a missed call. She hung up after one ring. I didn’t know what to make of it. She and I parted amicably—or so I thought. We both decided that it wasn’t working out. That was six months ago.
Without much preamble, I dialed her number. After a few rings, I was sent to voicemail. I killed it before her recorded voice surfaced. She’s been doing this a lot—a few missed calls here and there for the last few months. Each time, she never follows through, never picks up any of my damn calls. I hated how she liked these idiotic mind games! If she needed to speak to me about something, then why play phone-tag?
I suppose, this was Megan’s subtle way to make me not forget her. As annoying as her technique was, it worked brilliantly. “F*cking women!” I grumbled as I chucked my phone on the bed.
It was late, but I didn’t feel tired at all. I contemplated if I should just call it a night or join that hellcat of a woman outside on the patio. It doesn’t take any Freudian ability to see how much baggage that woman carried. She might smile and laugh, but it was insincere. I saw glimpses of tortured pain in those eyes. Reading people was one thing I had always done well. I felt bad about what I said to her earlier, but she had to know I wasn’t trying to hit on her or anything.
I may have thought about it for a second when my eyes first landed on her. Both girls were hot, but for some reason Trista intrigued me more. That instantly took a nosedive when I realized how guarded she was, though.
Wanting to take my mind off everyone, I looked for my iPad. I could do with a good suspense book to pass the time, but it was nowhere to be found. I suddenly remembered I left it on the outdoor canopy bed this afternoon. I stopped halfway in the living room when I saw Trista dive in the water with her clothes on. Funny, I would have pegged that personality of hers to have gone naked. She had that bold sassiness to her. A confident woman who knew she was hot.
Breaking my thoughts of her, I went outside. It didn’t take me long to find my iPad sitting where I left it earlier. I started to make way inside, but something compelled me to see her one more time before I hid in my room. My eyes scanned the dark moonlit sea but there was no movement anywhere. Fear started to spread through me as I started to walk towards the shore. The sea was still, not an ounce of movement anywhere—silent.
I dropped my iPad on the sand and hurriedly went in the water. Something told me that she hadn’t planned to come out alive. F*ck, I had no idea her shit ran that deep. I prayed that I wasn’t too late. It was hard to see anything as I got further in, but my determination didn’t stop me. I dove in deeper, my eyes scanning the dark water. That was when I saw a glimmer of something ahead. I accelerated my speed and swam towards it. It could’ve been a fish, for all I knew, but it gave me hope. My heart lurched when my burning eyes found her slowly sinking to the bottom—eyes closed, auburn hair floating, arms lifeless. A diamond sparkled on her exposed neck.
I quickly got to her and wrapped one arm around her waist. I used my other free hand and both of my legs to propel us upwards. My lungs burst wildly when I reached the surface, gulping air into my chest, before I summoned all my strength and started to swim back to shore. When my toes touched sand, I gathered her in my arms and hurried to the shore.
I carefully placed her limp body on the sand, her head propped carefully on my folded knee. It was obvious that she wasn’t breathing. Urgently, I placed my hand over the other and used the soles of my hands to apply pressure against her chest. I used enough pressure to compress her chest that it recoiled.
Panic started to flourish as each new try proved unsuccessful, but I squashed it like the pest that it was, opting instead for a different method to try and save her. My hands instantly parted her lips for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After my third try, she slowly started to cough. Her body stiffly turned to the side and spat out water, coughing and wheezing it all out. My arm held her while my other hand tried to soothe her. Tears formed in her eyes when everything started to rush back to her.
“I got you. You’re safe now,” I gently murmured. My insides knotted at the sight of her. What had triggered this? She was a bit distant earlier, but it was clear that she enjoyed being surrounded by her friends.
Misery was imprinted on her pretty face. “You should’ve left me in there. You had no right!” Trista started to bawl. Hatred laced her voiced as she repeated her words, until her cries made it difficult for her to say them anymore.
Hearing her openly admit that she wanted to kill herself shifted something violent inside me. She was sitting up now, crying. My hand captured her chin and forced her to look at me. “Is yourself all you ever think about?” I savagely spat at her, my anger evident. “You’re on vacation with your friends. One of them is filming a movie. If you had died tonight, the entire production would halt to investigate your death. Emma’s career depends on this movie. Lindsey looks forward to her summer and yet, you decided to end your life out here, jeopardizing the happiness of the people you claim to love. I call that selfish.” It triggered the effect I hoped for. Good, I thought. She needed to see sense. She had to see sense.
“I didn’t see it that way. I’m sorry—all I could think about is Harry. He left me…” Trista spoke in between sobs. “I love him so much, it’s too painful… remembering is painful.”
She wanted to end it all for a man who broke her heart. Why the hell do women do this to themselves? I f*cking don’t get it. I just f*cking can’t.
“There is no man or woman out there worth ending your life for. You can’t just f*cking give up when life rattles you to the core. That’s the coward’s way out.” When she didn’t reply and simply carried on her sobbing, I took the initiative and lifted her soaked body off the sand. She started to protest, but I ignored her insistence to be put down. “You need to shower and sleep.” I never even broke my pace, I just continued to head towards her room.
Once in the marbled bathroom, I gently placed her before me. She gasped when I lifted her dress off her body like as if I was taking advantage of her state . “What the hell are you doing?” Her arms instinctively covered her breasts. If this were under normal circumstances, I would find it amusing, but it wasn’t. I was beyond angry . , T t here certainly was no pleasure found here.
I checked the water’s temperature before I ordered her to jump in the shower. My annoyance jumped another notch when Trista glared at me. “Get in the damn shower, or I’ll haul you in there myself. You choose.” My voice was deadly and she knew I would carry out the threat if she wasn’t going to comply.
“You stupid son of a mother f*cker!” she outraged. I didn’t leave the bathroom until I saw her get in it. I left the bathroom door slightly ajar, not willing to risk her life again. I’m not going to take any chances this time. If I had to watch her like a hawk then so be it. Her broken heart be damned.
I retreated for a quick shower of my own. I made sure to fetch a few bottled waters in the kitchen. I placed a couple on her side table. Before retreating to check her, my eyes darted at the luggage that sat openly on the floor. I freely browsed through it until I found her soft, cotton , slip-on nightwear. “Are you done?” I called out after a few knocks on the bathroom door.
“I am.”
My hand slipped inside the door and handed her the scrap of cloth. Her soft hands yanked it from me. That feisty gesture made me smirk. After a minute, she came out with towel - dried hair, wearing that skimpy, sexy, night dress. My gaze moved away from her body. The man in me easily found her body attractive, but reason and propriety won over. Grabbing one of the bottled waters, I broke the lid open and handed it to her, not muttering anything. Trista gulped down half the bottle, thirsty as hell. “I’m going to bed. I, uh, thanks.”
What was the proper reply to that? You’re welcome, as long as you don’t do it again?
I rounded the bed and gestured for her to get in. She cautiously slipped in the sheets, her green eyes not leaving mine. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to sleep here, too?” she asked when I didn’t move to exit her room.
“I’d be more comfortable knowing that you’re safe. The only way to achieve that is to sleep here.” I briskly moved towards the other side of the bed. I slid inside the sheets and turned to my side. Sleep was out of the question tonight.
Trista was very still, not one movement came from her. After half an hour or so, I heard her speak. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?” her voice was scratchy and wobbly at the same time.
I had never planned to, unless she made another attempt, but this woman needed to understand how massive this responsibility on my shoulders really was. “I won’t, as long as you behave yourself. I will be keeping a close eye on you, just so we’re clear.” I was not going to have her die on my watch. That’s inconceivable. I heard her reply a small ‘yeah’ after a few minutes.
Good, like I would accept anything other than her agreement.
“Taylor?” Trista asked again after a long stretch of silence.
My thoughts were still back in the events that took place a couple hours ago. The image of her pale, lifeless body floating—slowly sinking in the sea—played havoc in my mind. “Hmm?” I stayed put on my side. I was still extremely furious at her.
Her shallow breathing was pronounced. “I hadn’t planned on it… all I wanted was to have a quick swim… but when I got underwater…” Trista paused. I could easily hear her swallow. She sounded like her actions had shocked her, too. “I remember the feeling of surrender… and I felt at peace about it.”
If it were another guy in here with her, he would most likely coddle her and try to give little assurances, but I wasn’t that kind of a man. I believed in fighting for reason, for truth, to free one’s self from lies. Life was hard, so one must play hardball. Fight it tooth and nail. Courage, it’s the best therapy to give oneself. “I may understand the full capacity of your situation, Trista, but you must see how cowardly your actions were. If a person gives up every time shit is thrown their way, the human race wouldn’t have survived. You have to learn how to fight—physically, emotionally, mentally. Face it bravely, even if the pain is too great, the consequences too frightening. At the end of the day, the only thing that counts is how much you’ve made a difference—progress. Fighting it is progressive. Fighting is reason.”
When I didn’t hear her, I assumed she fell asleep. So, I shifted a little to get more comfortable and rolled on my back—arms folded behind my head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“You know, for a pretty boy, you’re insightful and sharp. I thought all your studying law talk, was well, all talk,” she murmured, shifting on her side.
From my peripheral vision, I could see she was looking at me, but I didn’t move from my current position. “They did tell you not to judge the book by its cover, right? Now be a good girl and sleep. The island of Ios awaits.”