Whiskey River, Drown my Soul

Chapter Five

I woke up, opened my eyes and looked around. I was completely confused as to where I was and what I was doing there. The room was familiar, but it wasn't either of my rooms, nor was it a hotel room.

I was in someone's arms but whose? I tipped my head up and caught the familiar face of my Rev.

Suddenly everything came back to me in a rush. It was like waking up in someone else's life. This was so strange. I was a visitor in my own home, feeling like a teenager sneaking my boyfriend in to spend the night. If Brad had been alive, Rev would have never slept in this house, let alone with me. If Brad had been alive, I would be laying in his arms in our bed upstairs, I would never have taken off on a vigilante sex trafficker killing spree, and my closest friends and family wouldn't all hate me.

Fuck.

It was my fault he was dead. I had never taken my own safety seriously, and because of that, Brad died protecting me. He had literally always protected me, since the day we met.

So had Steve, Andy, and Rev.

Who else would end up dead because of me?

I needed to distance myself from these people if I wanted to protect them, and my own heart. Yet I planned to go visit them today because I felt guilty about taking off for two months.

My plans didn't make sense. My mind was jumbled. When I was hunting the trafficking leaders and killing them, my mind had been crystal clear.

I sat up and Rev grabbed my arm. He slept like a watchdog. Brad always had, also.

"You going to the bathroom?", he asked.

"Yeah".

"You come right back in here", he said sternly.

Great. That meant a lecture of some kind.

Rev was sitting up in the bed, rubbing his bald head when I came back in. His upper body was bare, covered in tattoos and scars, but none of them new since the last time I'd seen him. I, however, had a new shiny pink bullet wound scar on the back of my left shoulder which I avoided looking at or touching. Thank God it wasn't visible without a mirror.

He patted the bed next to him and I climbed back under the covers.

He put his hand on my knee under the blanket, looked into my eyes, and said, "Talk".

I instantly teared up and looked away.

He waited.

One of the reasons why I always got along so well with Rev was because he was calm and patient with me, even when he was furious. That wasn't the case with Brad. At times we were like fire and dynamite.

After about five minutes of debating how I wanted to start and what I was willing to share, I finally began with what I was thinking of that morning.

"It's my fault he's dead".

"No, it's not", Rev instantly argued. It's the fault of the psycho who pulled the trigger, yes?"

"If I had taken it more seriously-".

"Then what? You would have canceled the show? No, you wouldn't have. No one would have. The show would have been handled exactly like it was and the same thing would have happened. I guarantee you Vic also blames himself because it happened on his watch. It was the psycho's fault. No one else's".

"It should have been me. I wish it had been me. Everyone here prefers Brad to me. Everyone here is grieving so hard because of me. I already was gone most of the time, but Brad...he was here every day. He practically lived at Steve's and my brother's when I was out of town. I don't think he ate more than one supper a week here, if that. Those kids have lost a huge part of their lives".