I Love You to Death

Quintessence, the elusive fifth element that is tuned perfection in music and total destruction in nature
∞

Playlist:
1. Hurricane – 30 Seconds to Mars
2. White blank page – Mumford & Sons
3. Poison & wine – The Civil Wars
∞

Anger and fear can turn you into a different person. They mask what you’re really feeling, and they allow you to destroy something that doesn’t deserve it, something that should be cared for and protected. But being exposed, forces you to raise your defences and in doing so, you quite often lash out at the very thing you should actually be embracing.
Fighting with someone is like that, and it’s even worse when you fight with someone you care about, someone you love. Because then you know all of each other’s strengths and all of each other’s weaknesses. Then you are fully armed to do the most damage.
I try to avoid confrontation at all costs. I hate it. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get angry. Because I’ve also always beared a grudge that time doesn’t make any easier to let go of. I can show my true anger when really provoked. I need to vent, I can’t help it, the mask I wear to hide the rest of me is hard enough, so when the anger builds, it really has nowhere else to go but out.
And I’m sorry if you’re on the receiving end of it.
∞

Sam and I never really fought when we were together, but on the odd occasion when we did, it was always about the same thing. The same old fight would repeat itself and over and over again, and as usual we got nowhere with the outcome.
The last time we had that fight, something else happened, although really, it should’ve been so obvious it would eventually. It all started when we went to a work party of his. I didn’t really want to go, mostly because I wasn’t going to know anyone and I hated situations like that. Sam knew that but in the end he talked me into going anyway.
"Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise they’re not all computer nerds like you think they are."
I looked at him, a doubtful expression on my face. "You sure about that? You do work for an IT company remember."
He laughed, pulling me to him to give me a kiss. "Yeah and look at how sexy you think I am!"
I couldn’t help but laugh too. He was right, he wasn’t your typical computer geek so maybe I was wrong to assume everyone else would be. Even Nate was cool and he’d been studying the same course.
So we went and for the first hour or so I did have a good time. But then everyone was drinking and talking about work. Sam was having a great time and they were all doing shots of tequila. I felt left out. I hardly knew any of them and I certainly didn’t know what they were talking about.
As the night wore on, I was getting more and more drunk, but having less and less fun. Eventually I said to Sam, "Can we go? I’ve had enough."
Sam was wasted by this stage and could only laugh and say, "No, it’s fun, let’s stay."
I knew I shouldn’t be pissed at him. Knew he had every right to have fun and stay at the party, I knew it was me being the bitch. But he’d hardly talked to me all night and I really wanted to just go.
"Sam, I want to go," I tried once more.
"Geez Ash, come on, just stay, talk to people, have fun," he answered. He was really drunk now as I pulled him into the kitchen with me.
"Sam, I don’t know these people. You’re hardly talking to me and I just want to go ok, please?"
"Well Ash, I want to stay, for once, I want to stay and have some fun."
For once. What the hell did that mean?
In the end I told him I was going anyway. Mumbled some goodbye to him that I’m not even sure he heard and just walked home by myself. It wasn’t cold outside, and although it was dark, I wasn’t scared. The T was no longer running but I didn’t have far to go. On the way home, I checked my phone. Nothing from Sam, but there was a missed call from my Dad. I smiled as I listened to the voicemail.
"Ash, it’s me. I think I’m really frikkin lost. If it says I’m in Dorchester that’s a bad thing right? Call me back if you get this – love you kiddo."
I smiled to myself. My Dad was hopeless with directions. He’d been visiting us and although it wasn’t dark when he left, Sam suggested he crash with us and drive home the next day.
Dad had smiled and said, "Nah, I’ll just head back now so I’m not woken up by you two stumbling in drunk in the middle of the night."
I remember I gave him a hug and a kiss goodbye. "Thanks so much for coming up Dad, I seriously appreciate it," I said before waving, as he drove away from us.
I tried calling him back even though it was nearly 2am, but his phone rang out, eventually going to voicemail. I left him a message asking him to call when he woke up and then staggered the rest of the way home and crashed.
Sometime later, Sam stumbled in. He was pretty pissed by this stage waking me up to ask, "Where the hell did you disappear to?"
As I sat up, still half asleep I answered him. "I told you I was leaving, that was over two hours ago."
"Well I had no idea where you were Ash," he slurred back at me. "No idea what had happened to you!"
"Doesn’t look as though you cared too much," I yelled back at him. I was probably being childish, but I’d left the party over two hours ago and he hadn’t tried to stop me or even rung to find out if I was ok. I wondered if he even noticed I was gone until he went to leave.
"What the hell was wrong with you tonight?" he slurred again.
"Sam, I had a shit time ok. I didn’t know anyone and you barely talked to me all night. I just wanted to come home."
Sam threw his hands up in the air. I knew what was coming next, it was always the same thing. "Ash come on, you gotta try babe, try and talk to people ok, make some friends."
This is what always happened every time we started this argument, although we weren’t usually drunk and in the middle of the night. Sam always wanting me to try and meet people, try and make friends with them. Me unable to do it, unable to do the small talk part or let people in. It’s a miracle Sam was still around really.
"You know I can’t Sam," I said to him. "You of all people should know that."
Frustrated, Sam shook his head, crawling into bed and pulling me into his arms. He said nothing more to me, just crashed still fully clothed, not even taking his shoes off. But at least his arms were wrapped around me and I knew that meant the fight was over.
The next morning I woke up and I was hungover, more than I thought I’d be. Sam was still passed out so I dragged myself up and got dressed, heading out to get some fresh air and grab a coffee to chase away the headache I’d fallen asleep with.
Ironically when I came home hours later to wake Sam up and talk about what’d happened last night, I found him already awake and our fight seemed like the last thing on his mind.
When he told me that my Dad had died, our fight became the last thing on my mind too.
∞

Ever since Luke’s party I haven’t spoken to Liam at all. He hasn’t spoken to me and I’ve noticed that Luke doesn’t talk to him anymore either. After what happened I can kind of understand and although a part of me is secretly glad about them not speaking, I also feel that none of this ever would have happened if it wasn’t for me.
But Liam’s words, the things he said, they are still there, ringing in my ears. I don’t know how much Luke heard, maybe all of it and I don’t want to think about that either. I don’t want to think about Luke’s reaction to his words. That I was f*cked up, carrying a bunch of shit around. I didn’t want to think about how true that all was.
But for whatever reason, tonight, just before we close is when Liam decides we’re going to talk again. Tonight, he decides to follow me into the cold room and supposedly apologise.
"Ash?"
I stiffen in response to his voice and suddenly become acutely aware of the fact that we are trapped together in this tiny room, the one place I used to go to escape the rest of the shop. I don’t say anything.
"Ash, come on, you gonna ignore me forever?" he asks, a slight hint of anger in his voice.
I take a deep breath, turn and face him. "Yeah Liam, I think I will," I say, my voice firm, despite the nervous energy running through me. "I really don’t want to talk to you and I really don’t want you to talk to me."
"Ash, come on, isn’t that a bit over the top? You know I was just drunk the other night," he sneers, incredulous that I could dismiss him this easily. "It’s not like I meant to scare you or anything."
I walk purposefully towards the door, unsure if Liam’s going to let me pass. He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t stop me as I storm out into the kitchen.
"Ash, come on, don’t be such a bitch," he continues, following me out of the cold room.
I turn and face him. My nerves have turned to anger now as I say, "Actually Liam, I think you’re the one being a bitch. And a f*cking a*shole too and I don’t ever want to speak to you again." My blood is boiling right now and I’m glad it’s late and we’re out in the kitchen, because I know Robert would be pissed if he saw us doing this in front of the customers.
Liam and I are squared off against each other and this time I’m not showing my fear to him. I stand my ground when he takes a step towards me, refusing to back down. I meet his angry stare as I say again, "Stay away from me Liam, I mean it." I barely recognise my own voice now, but before Liam has a chance to respond, I hear another voice. A voice I stupidly hadn’t even considered would be here to witness this.
"Get away from her Liam," Luke says with a voice that sounds like steel.
I turn to look at Luke and see the anger radiating from him, his face set like stone, his dark eyes glaring at Liam. His whole body is tensed and I notice his hands are clenched into fists by his side, like he’s trying to hold himself back, trying to stop himself from lashing out.
Liam doesn’t move, he’s still staring at me.
"I’m not going to say it again Liam. Get. The. F*ck. Away. From. Her."
He does, but not before quickly moving towards me a little, a tiny threat to let me know he isn’t really backing down. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to make me flinch in response. It’s enough to make Luke step forward and grab Liam by the front of his shirt now. He’s face to face with Liam, as much as their height difference will allow. Luke’s face is a mask of fury, and the knuckles of his hand that grip the front of Liam’s shirt, turn white from the effort. His voice is low, almost like a growl as he says, "You ever ignore her when she tells you to f*ck off again Liam and I won’t just walk away like I did last time. I won’t just f*cking ignore it."
Luke is really pissed off now but I’m not frightened of him. If anything I’m surprised. Surprised that he’s reacting so strongly to this, that he’s even in here helping me at all. I’m still staring at Luke, who hasn’t looked at me once, when Liam slaps Luke’s hand out of the way, turns to me and says, "You are such a bitch," before walking out.
I don’t even register Liam leaving, I’m too busy watching Luke’s reaction to all this. I wonder what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. Luke turns to face me now and as soon as he sees me, his face instantly changes, softens.
"Are you okay?" he asks me, just like he always does.
I don’t say anything. I can only wonder how much he heard, how much he saw. What he really meant when he said he wouldn’t walk away like last time.
"Ash, are you okay?" he asks again quietly, taking a small, almost cautious step towards me. "Did he touch you, did he hurt you at all?"
I shake my head, still unable to say anything. He takes another step towards me, only concern on his face now, his hand reaching out to me, as though he wants to pull me into his arms. And that’s when it hits me. Suddenly and with force, like a hard punch in the gut that takes my breath away.
He cares.
He cares whether I’m okay. He was being protective, protecting me. Protecting me from Liam and it wasn’t the first time either. He’s acting like it matters how Liam talks to me, treats me. He’s acting like I matter, like I matter to him. As if I’m someone he cares about and needs to protect.
It reminds me of something, something so painful that it makes my heart twist, my insides churn and my head hurt. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I can’t let this happen.
I hold up my hands, stopping him. I see his eyes fall and take in my now shaking hands.
"Ash, are you okay?" he asks me again, his voice urgent, concerned now.
I don’t say anything, only nod.
"You’re sure?" he asks, his eyes drawn, worry and something else now, all over his face. "Ash, please, talk to me, are you sure you’re okay?"
"Thank you Luke," is all I can say, lowering my eyes so I don’t have to look at him before quickly turning and walking out of the kitchen.
I can’t let this happen.
I hear him call out, "Ash?" but I don’t turn around. I keep walking and go back to work, determined to finish my shift and forget what I saw just then. This can’t be happening.
About five minutes later, Luke comes out, a staff beer from the stash we keep in the cold room in his hand. He silently hands it to me, his eyes watching my face as he does. As soon as I meet his stare, I look away. I still can’t look at him, especially now. "Thank you," I say quietly, taking the bottle from his hand, our fingers brushing before I quickly turn and walk away.
I don’t speak to or look at Luke for the rest of my shift. Liam and I avoid each other too, but that’s easy because I’m only angry at him. With Luke it’s something far different.
Thankfully Luke doesn’t try and talk to me again, but I do hear him on the phone, talking to someone, his voice slightly raised although I can’t make out what he’s saying. When he’s about to leave a few minutes later, Luke comes over to me first.
"Ash, do you want to go and get a drink or something?" he asks.
I look up at him, his face full of concern and so much more. But all I can see is everything that I can and will destroy. Everything that I could find and then lose. I can’t do this again. I just can’t go through it all again.
"Just a drink?" he continues. "Nothing more, we don’t have to talk about anything that happened earlier."
I look down at the counter. See my hands as they clench the now empty beer bottle, my fingers turning white. I shake my head. "No," I say, my voice flat. "I can’t, I just can’t Luke," before turning and walking away.
I hear him call out my name again, but I don’t look back. He follows me into the staff room out the back, where there is no one else but us.
"Ash," he says to me, softly this time.
I’m reaching into my locker for my bag and don’t turn around. "Please go Luke. Please." My voice sounds strange, flat.
"Are you sure?" he asks quietly. "Are you sure you’re okay Ash?"
I turn to him now, keeping my eyes on his feet, unable to look at him. "Please, not now. Just go. Please just go. Please Luke, please." My voice betrays me, I’m afraid and I know he can hear it.
I feel him watching me for what feels like forever. I’m about to explode, and I’m not going to be able to stop myself, stop the words that are going to spew from my mouth, the anger I can feel surging through me. This isn’t right, this can’t be happening.
"Ash," he finally says his voice quiet. "It’s okay you know. If you want to talk, ever want to…well I’m here if you do."
I still don’t say anything. I don’t look at him and I don’t move. He says nothing more, just exhales loudly before thankfully turning and walking out.
When the door closes, I collapse to my knees on the floor. Angry tears fall from my eyes and I can do nothing to stop them. I don’t want this life anymore, I can’t keep doing this. It’s killing me.
The grief and the guilt I carry, are consuming me. The grief and the guilt that I carry are slowly suffocating me. I feel buried alive, like every breath I’m forced to take is a huge effort. Sometimes I wonder if it would just be easier to stop breathing.
I feel trapped. Time, my sanity, everything, it all feels like it’s somehow running out. The will to keep going, the will to even wake up every day, it’s all slowly disappearing and I don’t know if I can keep doing this much longer.
But it’s the anger that’s really killing me.
The anger I feel for all of the people I love, who’ve died on me, who’ve gone and left me all alone.
The anger I feel for anyone who just tries to be nice to me. The ones I have to constantly push away to protect.
The anger I have for Sam for knowing the truth about me and dying anyway.
But most of all, the anger I have for myself.
The anger at being the way I am, the anger at having caused all of this and more than anything, the anger at being unable to do a f*cking thing about it all.
I’m full of anger and that’s what’s really killing me.
I don’t know how long I stay on the floor, but I know I have to leave. I have to get out of here and go home where I can hide from everyone, where I can suffocate alone. When I stand up to go, I notice the bottle still in my hand and as I walk out the door I throw it at the trash can where it smashes into a million tiny pieces. I don’t stop and I don’t look back. I hear Sarah call out my name as I leave, but I ignore her. I don’t see Luke at all and I just keep walking out the door.
I can’t. I just can’t do this anymore.
∞

Somehow, Dad had managed to get himself lost trying to drive home from Boston. It should have been straight forward, just head for the I-95 south and keep going. It takes you all the way back to Providence. Only my Dad was crap with directions and refused to use a GPS. He’d tried calling me that night when he’d evidently ended up somewhere else, but I was at the party and didn’t hear my phone.
Of course, I was also the one who’d asked, in fact begged him to drive up to see us. So of course it was completely my fault he was even driving at all.
Sam and I had been living in our apartment for a while by then, but I hadn’t really been back to Providence. I hadn’t taken much stuff with me when I first left, because I didn’t think I would just leave and never go back. But when we got our own place, I decided I should probably get the rest of my stuff. Really make this place my home.
So I finally asked Dad to drive up to see us, packing the car with the last of my things.
He only came up for the day. He got there mid-morning and after we unpacked the car and tried to find some space for everything, Dad said to me, "Ok kiddo, now you’ve officially moved out, how about I buy you some lunch? That way I know you’re going to get one decent meal this week."
I laughed and joked, "What you think I can’t cook?"
Dad just laughed and said "No, I know you can’t Ash, grilled cheese is not a proper meal you know."
"Come on, you know it is Dad," I said smiling at him.
Dad faked a look of surprise, as though his previous statement had been wrong, before pulling me into a hug. "I’m gonna miss you kiddo, you know that right?"
"I already miss you Dad, really."
He kissed the top of my head and said, "Come on then, let’s go eat."
So we went out, finding a place and having a great afternoon together. Sam didn’t come that day, instead letting me have some time alone with Dad. We didn’t do anything exciting, just hung out for the afternoon, and spent most of it wandering the streets of Boston.
"Next time, we should try and get tickets to a game," Dad said as we walked past Fenway Park.
"Definitely," I said. "Sam’s mad on the Red Sox, even though he comes from Seattle. I’m sure he can sort something out."
"Sounds good Ash," Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to him.
"I’ll get him to look into it," I replied, putting my arm around Dad’s waist.
We walked along in silence for a while until eventually Dad said, "So you’re pretty serious about this guy then huh?"
I looked up at him, smiling as I said, "Yeah I am Dad, I really am."
Dad kissed the top of my head again. "It’s good to see you so happy Ash and as long as he’s taking good care of you, then I’m happy. Because if he doesn’t, he’ll have me to deal with!" he replied.
I laughed, squeezing my arm tighter around him as I said, "He does Dad. Sam really does take good care of me."
We continued walking until the realisation of actually having left home and moved out, finally struck me. Faced with a sudden fear, I turned to Dad and said, "Promise you’ll come up right? I mean, promise you’ll visit regularly? Just because I left home, doesn’t mean I never want to see you Dad."
I was incredibly close to my Dad, always had been and leaving home to be with Sam had been difficult for only that reason. Plus by then Seth was long gone and I worried about my Dad being at home alone.
Pressing a kiss to my temple, Dad simply said, "Anytime you want me to Ash, anytime at all kiddo."
I wish I’d known this trip would be the last time ever.
Around five that night Dad decided he’d head home. We were going to this party and he didn’t want to get in our way. So we made plans for him to come up again, I wrote down the directions for him, told him to call me if he got lost and we went our separate ways.
Somehow he missed the turn-off onto the I-95.
He ended up in Dorchester and when he stopped to ask for directions, instead got car jacked.
They had a baseball bat apparently.
They took his car, his wallet, his phone and watch.
Defensive bruises indicated my Dad had fought back. I would have expected him to, but you can’t compete with a baseball bat. You can’t compete with aggressive violence or a drug-f*cked gang of kids who have nothing to lose. Nobody even tried to stop them apparently, nobody did anything.
They left him lying there on the side of the road. Slowly bleeding to death from the bashing he’d received. I don’t know who called the police in the end, maybe they just drove by and found him, but in that neighbourhood nobody had even tried to stop it.
But it was me who’d begged him to drive to Boston. It was me who’d let him drive home that night. I’d written the directions for him. I’d missed his call when he got lost.
I’d killed him.
Seth came home for the funeral, so did his fiancée Lara. They arranged everything. It was the first time I’d been back to Providence in ages. I remember lying on Dad’s bed, looking at all of his things; the photo of him and Mom beside his bed, a pile of his clothes which were still on the floor, waiting to be washed. A picture of Dad, me and Seth by the window. I remember lying there looking at all of these things and wishing I’d never asked him to come to Boston to see me. Wishing I could’ve just come back to get my own stuff like a grown up. There was even a part of me wishing I’d never left at all.
"Ash smash, you need to get up," Seth said quietly as he walked into Dad’s room.
I didn’t say anything.
"Smash?" he asked as he climbed onto the bed and lay down beside me. I rolled over into his arms and he wrapped them around me and held me as I cried and cried. I cried as my big brother tried to comfort me, tried to tell me that everything would be okay.
"It was my fault Seth, my fault this happened." I choked out through my tears.
Seth pulled me up and made me look at him. "No Ash, this was not your fault."
I wished he could understand. I wished I could make him understand. I’d never told him this before. Never told him how I knew I was responsible for all of this.
"I begged him to come to Boston Seth," I cried. "Begged him to drive up and see us. If he hadn’t done that, he never would have gotten lost, never would have been killed. It was my fault Seth, all my f*cking fault."
Seth pulled me into a hug again, quietly telling me, "This was no one’s fault but the men who did this Ash, you know that."
But I knew better.
The funeral was excruciating. I spent the whole time being held up by Sam. He kept his arms wrapped around me and didn’t once let go. I don’t know what he was thinking, but he never let me go. I didn’t talk to anyone because I couldn’t find anything to say. The only thing I wanted was to beg for my Dad to come back.
Afterwards Sam and Lara helped me clean out the house. Seth stayed for as long as possible, but after a week he needed to leave, the military doing him no favours despite our loss. Even after he and then Lara left, Sam stayed on and helped me.
Together we cleaned out my Dad’s house, packing up all of his things, packing up his whole life. We put the house up for sale shortly afterwards, Seth and I splitting everything, but it was Sam who helped me sort it all out. We stayed in Providence for five more days after the funeral and it was the longest I’d been back since I’d left to be with Sam.
I was very angry about everything during that time and Sam tried desperately to talk to me about it. But I couldn’t, didn’t want to and it’s probably the longest and most uncomfortable period of time Sam and I ever endured together. On the last day we were there though, Sam came over to give me something.
"What?" I asked him, barely able to look him in the eye.
Sam’s fingers gently tilted my chin up so I had to look at him. "Ash, I’m sorry," he said quietly.
"For what?" I asked, surprised.
Sam’s face was a mixture of sadness and regret as he said, "For our fight, for your Dad, for everything babe, for everything. I’m really sorry."
"Sam..." was all I could say, pulling him into a hug. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who’s sorry, sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you these last few days. I’m really sorry Sam."
Sam stood with his arms wrapped around me as he spoke into my hair. "You don’t have anything to be sorry for either babe, but I don’t ever want to fight like that again. I don’t ever want to fight about anything, okay?"
"Me neither Sam, me neither," I whispered.
Sam pulled back a little, brushing my hair back from my face. "I’m sorry about that night babe. I’m sorry I was such an ass to you, and I won’t ever pressure you to try with people again okay, I promise."
I smiled sadly at him, knowing he still didn’t believe any of this was my fault, but this was his concession to me. I don’t know if he felt guilty about our fight that night, but I hoped he didn’t think I blamed him for what happened. I really didn’t, none of it was his fault. Eventually Sam lowered his head as he took my hand and gently placed something in it. When I opened it to see what it was, all of my anger finally melted away.
"Where did you find this?" I asked him.
"Seth did," Sam explained. "He thought maybe you’d want it as a memory of your Dad. Something for you to keep."
I was crying again now as I slipped the silver wedding ring that used to belong to my Dad, but which he hardly ever wore, onto the thumb of my right hand.
"Thank you Sam," I said through my tears. "Thank you."
"Anything for you babe, you know that," Sam answered pulling me into another hug. "Anything for you."
When we finally left Providence and went back home to Boston, Sam and I were in a much better place. I didn’t ever want to go back there again and after that day, Sam and I never did fight like we had that night. And just like he promised, Sam never tried to get me to make friends again. It still didn’t change anything that’d happened though, how could it? But deep down I’m pretty sure Sam knew, knew what I was thinking. Deep down he knew I blamed myself and part of that blame came from our fight. He never said anything more, but he was always there for me, and now, I needed him more than ever.
∞

I’m so angry when I get home.
So f*cking angry.
I flick on some music. The same CD is still in there. The sound of Luke’s voice and music comes through the speakers and I’m briefly reminded of the way it made me feel when I saw them weeks ago. I wish I could go back to that feeling, to that one night of feeling nothing but pure happiness and escape. The feeling of drowning in his music and his voice.
But tonight I can’t.
Tonight all I feel is anger. Anger at everything I’ve lost and everything I’m forced to push away. Anger at whatever it was that made me this way, anger for just being me.
I walk to the fridge and take out a beer. I drink the first one standing there with the fridge door open, so I grab a second and just keep going. It’s only when I’m on my third that I stop and shut the door. I should eat something but I can’t be bothered, so I just keep drinking. Slowly the alcohol starts to make a dent. Slowly I stop feeling the raw pain of today as it gets pushed to the side, drowned in the alcohol that’s now flooding my system. Slowly the gentle numbness of drunken oblivion starts to have an effect.
Slowly I start to feel less of anything. Slowly I start to feel nothing at all.
I’m really drunk when I finally turn on my computer. I know this is a stupid idea. Even in my current condition, I know that. There are five emails from Luke but I don’t bother opening any of them. I barely even remember sending this to him, the message sent notice I see on the screen the next morning, the only clue to what I’ve done.
But sure enough when I go searching through my sent box later on, this is what I find.


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: [NONE]
I’m sorry.
Sorry for acting like that, like this. Sorry for being so pissed today.
Sorry for taking it out on you.
Sorry for all of it.
I can’t explain it. I f*ck up everything. It’s better if you just stay away from me.


God, I really am f*cking pathetic.