When a parent dies, it leaves a hole in the center of your chest. The hole will always be there but over time the pain will ease. When you watch the person who inspires you to become a dancer dies suddenly; your passion for dancing dies with them. W...
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When I had told her that drinking her sorrows away with alcohol wasn't healthy. It wasn't to be a dick. I've been down that road and it honestly doesn't help at all. My comment was out of friendly advise. Her comment was out of malice. Like she turned into a viper ready to strike at any given moment. Her words stung more than I thought they would.
Currently I'm blaring music into the speakers at the fire station. I'm in our gym, working out my frustrations, my anger, hell even my stress. I can hear the lyrics 'I'm cursed by this life I've lead Could you fix me' blaring in the background as I drill my fist into the punch bag. I don't hear the door opening nor hear the footsteps entering until it's too late.
"Woah big guy! I can hear Panic by Hollow Front out across the street. Is everything okay?" Jackson yells over the music. The music is now at a low volume so he can hear me.
"Peachy." I reply.
"What's wrong bud? Maybe I can help you.?" Jackson says with worry.
"I'm fine." I give a short answer.
"Only time you blare this kind of music is when you're pissed or thinking. So which is it?" Jackson counters. Nothing can get by this guy. No wonder why he's the damn sheriff of this town. Than again, we been best friends since we were toddlers give or take. So he knows me like I know myself. Maybe even better than I do.
"Is it Phoebe?" He questions. I miss the bag as he says her name.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"Was it Phoebe? I mean I saw her earlier; she doesn't look any better than you. So all this because of her?" He asks why throwing his hands around in circles.
"Yes." I groan out.
"Care to explain?" He asks.
"She just said this comment that just hit a soft spot in my chest." Is all I say.
"What did she say? What did you do?" He fires question after question.
"I pretty much said you can't drown your sorrows with alcohol." I begin to explain.
"Man, you can't say that to her. She'll eat you up and spit you out without meaning too." Jackson says with his eyes the size of saucers.
"My comment came from my heart. Just trying to keep her from going down the same road. Trust me it doesn't help Jax." I try to defend myself.
"So your words came from your icy heart?" He questions with slight sarcasm.
"Yes. Mine came from my icy heart. Her's came for my damn heart." I grumble.
"What did she say?" He whispers.
"That wearing your wedding ring your dead partner got you won't help you heal." I say with an expression that looks like a sour lemon head touched my tongue.
"She said what?!" Jax says in shock.
"You heard me. She turned into a viper ready to strike at any given moment." Is all I say. I start to punch the bag again; trying my best to ignore my best friend. Honestly it isn't working because he still is here and is still talking.
"Geez Christ! Out of all the things she could say. She hits you right where it hurts the most. You weren't joking about her being a viper. That's brutal." Jax says in complete bewilderment.
"Tell me about it. You two said to try to be her friend. Right when I open my mouth and say one thing. She comes for my damn throat. I'm good man. I'll keep that one at a distance.... A football field distance." I respond while shaking my head.
"Don't give up man. She's honestly a sweetheart." He says as he pats my shoulder. I watch as he walks back out the door.
No, I prefer to keep her at a distance. If she comes closer, I'll end up hitting her with my truck.....
My fire truck.... To be exact.
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