"Where are you going?" he asks, frowning at me.
I squirm around him, ending up on the couch. Troy doesn't relent, his size shading me.
"I need to go to my room."
"Why?"
"I'm tired."
"You don't look tired."
Panicking, I want to push past him. I don't, of course. He's too big, and I'm too scared.
"I need to take my pill to calm my nerves," I say, hoping Troy isn't angry. The minute his jaw twitches, I know he's angry.
Troy takes my hand and slides our fingers along the scar at his throat.
"Three years ago, I nearly died the day I got the scar. Afterward, I lost my edge. Kept having flashbacks and getting paranoid. To deal with it, I started drinking. Whenever I sobered up, I felt like shit again, so I stayed drunk. Seemed like a good solution except I was never getting over anything as long as I lived in a stupor. It wasn't easy, but I dried up and faced all the bullshit running around in my head."
Troy lets go of my hand.
"It won't be easy for you either but taking a pill every time you feel bad means you'll never win against those bad feelings. Now I can let you dull the pain, but I don't want to. I want you to stay here and face it. Call me a selfish bastard, but I need you to get stronger so I can kiss you. I have all these hungry cravings for you, and I need you to be strong enough for them. I think maybe you want to be strong enough for them too, but it won't happen as long as you use those pills as a crutch."
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
"I feel like I need to cry."
"Then cry."
"I want to cry in my room."
"No. You'll take your pill and crash for most of the day."
"I can't cry here."
"Why? I mean, I don't want to see you cry, but I'd rather listen to you suffer for a short time than know you're putting off all that pain for later."
"Locke didn't let me cry. It was against the rules."
"He's not here. If he were, I'd kill him, and you'd still be able to cry."
"Please," I whimper.
Troy walks to the chair and sits down with the remote. "I won't force you to stay in here, but we both know what you should do.
The choices stun me into a confused stupor. I can't decide what to do. What I want versus what Troy wants. Soon, I have no choice since the tears burn my eyes and wet my cheeks.
Pulling my shirt over my head, I hide while choking on my sobs. I just want things to be the way they were before Locke stole me from the cruise. We'd been swimming that day, and John learned to doggy paddle. Shelley and I tried oysters for the first time. We were enjoying life and then it was all gone.
Now, what am I? I've become a pathetic loser afraid of her own shadow. The old Darla wasn't much of a flirt, but she had a shot with a man like Troy. Here I am, crying in my shirt. He's never seen me with my hair brushed or wearing something less than three sizes too big.
Yet he still wants to kiss me.
I peek out of my shirt and see him watching the chase's aftermath. Troy is tense in the most passive way. He hides his feelings well, but I notice his teeth clenched. I notice his hands flexed to avoid becoming fists. Troy wants to remain calm, but he wants to kill Locke more.
If Locke hadn't taken me, I wouldn't be sitting on this couch several feet away from Troy, who, for whatever crazy reason, wants to kiss me.
Shelley once said the biggest problem with men meeting us through our modeling was the belief we always looked that good.
"Will they still want us when we have the flu? Is their love one bad hair day from ending?" she'd say.
Troy has only known me during bad hair days. He's never seen me at my best, but he still wanted to kiss me.
Standing up, I shuffle to the bathroom and wash my face until much of the redness is gone. I stare into the mirror and try not to see Rose. Troy doesn't want Rose. Even though he can have a woman like Minka, he wants me.
18
~~~
Troy
Tears Tearing Me Apart
My first girlfriend didn't cry. She hated tears and punched her little sister whenever she cried. I knew she was crazy when I saw her brutalize her younger sibling. Dumping her the next day, I also ratted her out to her Navy father. Even as a teenager, I was certain my way was never wrong.
Minka only cried once during the entire time I've known her. After knee surgery, she worried she'd never walk again. A groggy Minka sobbed about losing the ability to kick ass. Of course, she healed up and kicked plenty of asses afterward. That day, though, she wept like a baby, and I felt awkward as hell.
I feel the same way when Darla sobs feet away from me. Should I leave her alone? Should I hold her? Should I call for help? Should I give her the damn pill that'll numb her to all the pain she's feeling?