The Mechanic

Chapter Forty-five - "Insomnia"

"The Mechanic"

Chapter Forty-five

'Insomnia'

Demi's POV

A week had passed.

A long, exhausting, sad week.

A week filled with constant nightmares that I often woke from screaming. Nightmares so bad, in fact, that they consequently delivered to me insomnia in fear of them. My decision to spend my nights awake was adversely affecting Joseph; he was often too exhausted to even drive.

And the guilt of it all was weighing on me.

We ate our meals in silence. Our days became routine. He refused to leave my side, and I refused to fight him on it. At this point in our lives, I understood his reasons. If I were him, I would likely do the same.

I still loved Joseph.

He still loved me.

But we weren't happy anymore.

We'd been robbed of security; of safety in our own home. We were no longer able to leave, out of worry that we were being watched, followed, photographed. It seemed foolish to feel that way, as Wilmer himself no longer posed a threat. He'd been arrested, placed in jail without bail on charges of breaking and entering, burglary, destruction of property, attempted kidnapping, and attempted murder. Still, these charges were massive, and because of Wilmer's socially elite status, they were also plastered on every television screen across the country. The downside, however, was that I was broadcast across the world as well.

Joe and I were harassed with phone calls from the media; strangers wanting more information about a situation that they would never be able to understand.

The auto shop had been temporarily closed down because of the craziness, and I could see in Joseph's eyes that this news had wrenched his gut. He'd never complained about this, I assumed for my sake, but I knew him. I knew he missed his job. His customers. His family. His friends.

His life before me.

I knew he did.

And so did Denise.

I could feel her beginning to resent my level of importance in Joe's life; his love for me became an anchor that held him down. She would often come to check on me, claiming that she wanted to see how I was doing.

But I often found that anytime she and I had even a moment alone, something in the air would change. The look in her eye would change.

And the way that she loved me would change, too.

One morning, she came by completely unannounced. Joseph had been showering at the time of her arrival, so I knew she hadn't called; he would have otherwise told me. When I allowed her into our home, she went about her normal routine; hanging up her coat, preparing herself a cup of coffee, giving me her hellos.

"Where is Joseph?" She asked, standing over me. Her curls were tight and neat as a pin, springing with her every move. I was sitting on the couch, holding my book.

"He's in the shower," I replied. Shifting, I sat crossed legged. "I didn't know you were coming today."

"I didn't tell him," she said. The look on her face changed, saddened. "Demi . . . I was hoping for a chance to speak to you alone."

"Okay," I nodded, shutting my novel. Denise took her place beside me, and almost immediately, I could see that she was nearly driven to tears. Her shoulders faintly vibrated with each exhale.