Like a Moth to a Flame

Lisa 17

I hadn't had a full nights rest since things happened but last night, thanks to Nyquil, I finally did. I woke up feeling rested and had a bit of a clearer mindset. I had a text from Reynolds on my phone saying he wanted to come over because he had important information he wanted to share with me in person rather than over the phone. 

He finally arrives and I can tell whatever he has to say, is something big. 

"Hey Lisa. So much has happened. I told you we caught the prime suspect, Sam Jones. Well, last night, he confessed to the murder. I mean, it just all came out. 

He's fiddling with his phone. "James was having an affair with a woman he worked with for 2 years. Things began to turn bad and he verbally and emotionally abused her. Harassed her after she begged him to leave her alone. And then one evening as she was working late, he bound and raped her. She confided in her brother, which happens to be our suspect, and he took matters into his own hands. He did it to protect her and her family and anyone else from him, Lisa."

I can't. I just can't grasp at any one emotion right now. So many thoughts and questions are flashing a mile a minute in my head. James was having an affair. He was harassing, maybe even stalking this woman. And then he raped her all the while, trying to manipulate me to fall into his web of lies.

Andrew is trying to gauge my reaction, trying to figure out what to do because I'm simply staring into nothing at all. 

"Lisa, hey, I'm right here." He puts his hand gently on mine and hugs me with his free hand.

I don't know if it was the fact that Andrew actually cares and is figuratively holding me together, or hearing the truth about James' character, the truth I seemed to be in denial about, but that wall that seemed impenetrable since this happened, was now crumbling with each passing second.

"I remember what happened Andrew. I remember why I was there.." Andrew doesn't let go of me as I begin to tear back the proverbial band aid.

I'm knocking on James's door re-reading his last text to me. "Come over baby, please. I want to make it up to you. I'm so sorry. Please, please don't let me go. Please give me another chance. I adore you baby."

He doesn't answer so I knock again and try to peer in through his windows, but as always, his shades are closed tightly. I walk back over to the door and turn the knob and its unlocked. First thoughts is that he's with another woman. I step in, anger and jealousy coursing through me. Its night and he doesn't have any lights on inside. I turn on my cell phone trying to use the screen lighting as my guide but its not helping.  

His books are strewn about his coffee table where he usually has them stacked. He's pretty OCD about keeping his place clean. I turn to my left and knock my knee against something on the couch. I feel with my left hand and bring the dim light of my cell phone towards whatever it was that hit me. Its James's legs. "James, James, what the hell? Wake up." I shake his leg but he doesn't move. I bring my hand up towards his chest and begin to shake him but feel something cold and wet on his shirt. I bring my phone up towards it and see my hand covered in blood. His green shirt is soaked through with blood. I drop my phone as I begin to shake uncontrollably. Dropping to my knees, I feel around for it and find it in the pool of blood. I wipe it against my shirt and dial 911 all the while saying through sobs, "its gonna be ok James, its gonna be ok."

The operator tells me the ambulance is on its way so I quickly walk over to the kitchen, walking into crap along the way, using my hands to touch anything and everything I can. I finally find the light switch and flick it on, not wanting to look back at him right now. I grab a dish towel from the kitchen and quickly walk over to his body on the couch. I don't want to look at his eyes. At his face. I focus solely on his chest, waiting for it to rise and fall. Waiting to see him breathing, if even shallow breaths. Nothing. 

I press the towel against his chest, soaking up the blood as I cry silently and pray for him. I finally find the courage to bring my eyes up towards his beard, which has spatterings of blood in it. Up his cheek and into his eyes. They're so dark and his pupils are dilated. 

"Why James? Who did this to you?" "Why?" I lean over his head and softly kiss his forehead. He's still warm. My tears fall onto forehead, down his cheek and into his beard. Just then I hear the ambulance sirens getting closer and closer. I walk over to the door and wait in the doorway as the alternating red and blue emergency lights illuminate everything around me. 

I remember them looking at me, asking me questions and all I could say was that I found him like this. "Please help him. Please." That's all I kept saying as the first cop arrived on the scene and took me outside to his car and began to question me. Everything else was a blur. I don't remember the drive over to the police station or even walking into the interrogation room. But I do remember you Reynolds. I remember you walking in and making that cold, grey room seem just a bit warmer. I remember looking into your eyes and feeling like you actually cared.

The tears are slowly falling as I look at Andrew. His eyes so full of concern as he pulls me into his chest, kisses my forehead and says, "It's going to be alright." And for the first time in a long time, I know he's right.