#and now im back. i did something i regretted heavily in that time thats impacting how i feel now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carverhawke · 7 years

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so i just wrote up a short story at 2am to submit to my creative writing class for a workshop/critique thing (i love procrastination) and im scared they’re gonna rip my asshole right open bc theres two hardcore Roasters in that class so could yall maybe....read it to make sure its not TOTAL shit before i submit it to ass-ripping time

every single thing in it is suuuuuper rushed bc we’re not supposed to make this too long bc we all have a bunch of these to read, and if i did everything the way i wanted to this would be 17 pages long and that would just be the most obnoxious dick move. so if u see anything like “wow thats kind of an extreme reaction is there more context for this” or “huh it feels like theres more significance to this but idk what” thats bc shit Is missing lmfao. im gonna edit it a little tomorrow anyway tho just bc. i wrote this at 2am like yikes yall

(tw for like. abuse and mentions of past abuse & murder and shit)

Blackburn Road

Her fist hovered in front of the door for several minutes before she worked up the nerve to knock. The doorbell would be easier, but she knew that he would never fix it.

“You’re being stupid,” she muttered to herself. “Can you stop being stupid?” She had bigger problems than this door, and what was behind it, but right now the door was all of those problems combined.

So, she knocked. Three quick raps, and then she yanked her hand back and pressed it against her chest. Stupid, that’s really stupid. It’s just a door, and you knocked now. That’s what you’re supposed to do with doors.

She sighed heavily and squeezed her brown eyes shut, shaking her head at herself. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, and every time she stopped one foot from tapping, the other started. She was almost about to knock again, when the door flew open in one sharp, fast motion that almost made her flinch.

“Addy,” Ben said, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were empty, and dark. Blue like a storm, not like the sky. His hair was naturally blond, but next to his eyes, it seemed too bright. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

For a split second, his grin faded to a familiar sneer, but he plastered it back on soon enough. “Addison. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know what I’m here to talk about. I said I’d be coming by.”

He groaned, and slumped against the doorframe. “Right. As if I didn’t hear enough about it from you before. I guess you want to come in?”

Don’t hit him now, Addison. Don’t hit him. He can and will arrest you on the spot. Don’t do it.

“It’s the last thing I want to do, but I’m not having this conversation on your porch.”

He moved aside, and swept an arm out theatrically. He was holding a beer bottle, and she almost brought her arms up to cover her face when he swung his arm back around.

She hadn’t been back in this house since the divorce. Every time she talked to Ben, it was at the station where he worked or somewhere else with a lot of people. She didn’t want to be alone with him in here ever again, told herself she wouldn’t, but. . .

Desperate times, she told herself. That’s a thing people say.

“Well, Addy?”

She looked around almost idly, refusing to meet his icy gaze. The house didn’t look too different, really. She didn’t know what she’d expected. No pictures up anymore, though. And the key rack–

“Find your car yet?” she asked, nodding in its direction. It was empty. He snorted.

“Like I said last time you mentioned this. I kind of have more urgent missing things to worry about. So do you, I’d think.”

“Yeah.” She still didn’t look at him. His lies crawled across her skin. “I’m making small talk. It’s a thing people do.”

“Well, not us. What do you want?”

She pushed black hair behind her ear, and finally met his eyes. “I want to know if you’ve seen him. Or heard from him. Or anything.”

“Addy, you know I haven’t.”

“Well, if he ran away like you’re claiming he did, why didn’t he let at least one of us know he’s alright? Especially with all the posters, and the news, and this rumor that there’s some serial killer running around?”

“You know how he gets. Temperamental, and shit. He’ll turn up. Half of missing kids are runaways anyway, and they do.”

Somehow, she doubted that. “And the other half?”

“You still claim to be a smart woman, don’t you? You tell me.”

“You know what? I don’t know why I came here. I don’t know how anyone can talk to you.

“Usually, they start by not being a frigid bitch, but–”

She put her hands against his chest, one against his ribs and one against his shirt pocket, and pushed him hard. He stumbled, got that familiar burn in his eyes, it almost made them glow, and slapped her in the cheek. She gasped sharply, but didn’t lose her balance. Shoved her hands in her pockets.

“You do that to every frigid bitch, too?”

“You know that’s the Addy special, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” She shoved him again, lighter this time, before he could make some smart remark. “Whatever. You’re a liar, anyway. You think I haven’t seen that smirk a million goddamn times?”

“What?” he almost sounded like he was laughing. He smirked, it was like steel, it was so cold. “You think I did it? To my own son? Come on. I’m a stand-up guy. No record, or family troubles, or anything. Why would I go and do a thing like that?”

She knew she’d hit him again if she stuck around, really hit him, and get arrested that time, so she didn’t stick around. She got in her car, slammed the door, and drove off at an annoyingly reasonable speed so he couldn’t bust her on that curb.

She cruised down Death Road. That’s what everyone called it, but for a moment it didn’t feel like Death Road. It didn’t even feel like its real name, or the place where her son had disappeared. It felt like a long, long road that would never end, surrounded and stifled by the waving green trees. She began to laugh.

As if to make sure she had really done it, she pulled the badge out of her pocket and ran her thumb over the bumps and indents, over his name carved into the metal, Benjamin Cooke, fading rays of light bouncing off the gold. Plucked it right from his shirt pocket. Dumb angry bastard didn’t even notice. She could use this to get what she needed. She could finally prove that it was him, him who did this to her son, him all along. She laughed again, and pressed her foot against the gas and the cool metal to the throbbing skin under her eye, right against the criss-cross scar on her left cheek. Tears sprung into her eyes, and she couldn’t quite tell why.

This was worth all the bruises, she thought giddily to herself. Worth the bruises.

---

Leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, one leg over the other, Addison steadily kicked the leg of the table. The whole thing shook with each impact, more and more as the endless time ticked on. Her reflection glowered back at her, dark hair and somehow darker eyes as she glared into the two-way mirror. She swore she could feel someone withering behind it, but maybe that was wishful thinking. She hoped she was annoying them. God, she hoped.

She had only been in a room like this once, after that accident on Death Road. Or Blackburn, rather. The same accident gave it both those names, anyway. She remembered they called her Addy, only Addy. Every single sentence was Addy. Overused it until it didn’t mean anything anymore. Addy Addy Addy Addy. She had felt so utterly alone. She was utterly alone.

She slammed her foot against the table leg, sending the whole thing shifted back. She was tired of this. She had no time.

“You can’t keep me in here forever, assholes! Either come and arrest me, or let me go, because I–”

The door swept open, and in a quick motion a man slid into the room before carefully closing it behind him. She frowned when he turned to face her, and he turned his gaze away.

“Charlie. Well, I know I’m in good hands now.”

His jaw worked slowly, and he walked over to move the table back. He sat on the end of it, body twisted a little to face her, but his head was turned away. She could barely see his full profile. They sat like that, in a pained kind of silence, for a few more moments.

“Well, then? Officer?” He sighed heavily at this, and shook his head just a little.

“We’re not going to arrest you, Addison,” he finally spit out, voice monotone and stilted. This was strange for him, but maybe not given the circumstances. “Given…given everything that’s going on with you right now, and our history with–with you–” he glanced nervously at the two-way mirror– “we’re going to give you a free pass for this. You can walk out of here once we’re done talking.”

“So, what? You’re going to tell me what a big bad crime this was and how I shouldn’t have done it? No shit, man. I’m aware of that.”

“No, but you impersonated an officer to steal surveillance tapes from a gas station! It was a big bad crime, and you shouldn’t have done it. Since you brought it up.”

“A bigger, badder crime than kidnapping? Murder? Because my son is still missing, nothing Ben’s saying is adding up, and I seem to be the only one bringing any of that up!”

“Seriously!”

“He lied about his car! I saw in the tapes–”

“Come on, Addy! This needs to stop, with you and him. You’ve always–”

“Don’t go there,” she snapped. “I’m serious. Don’t.”

He looked again at the mirror, unblinking for several long seconds. In his reflection, she saw his face twisted into something like regret, or sadness, and she watched him slowly smooth it back out. Finally, he turned his head back, but still refused to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the robotic professionalism in his voice finally cracked. “We just can’t– nevermind. I’m not here to lecture you. I actually. . .I was going to talk about your son.”

She looked hard into the one eye he was allowing her to see. Dreamy brown and downcast, just a touch lighter than his curly hair, and both very stark against his pale skin. She and him had been good friends, once, and for a good long while. But that was before she realized he valued something else over her, crying as she clung to the doorframe with bruised, shaking fingers with a broken nose and blood pouring out of her split lips. She begged him to just take her to the car, take me to the goddamn car, but when Ben said no he just turned and walked away. That wasn’t the last time, but never looked right at her since then.

“Look at me,” she said coolly. He closed his eyes and she leaned forward. “You’re a coward. Look at me, and say what you have to say.”

“Addy, you know that I. . .” but he trailed off, and slowly, painfully turned to face her. Still, he didn’t look her in the eye. “No one’s supposed to know about this but us. But, with everything. . .and since you’re here, we decided, well, we decided to make an exception with you.”

Something was seizing her throat. There was a big, empty pit in her stomach that seemed to be sucking everything down. She was shivering, a tremble that seemed to begin at her very core. She knew what was coming. She knew what was coming. But maybe if. . .

“We caught a guy. It’s. . .he confessed to a lot of stuff. We thought that maybe, there was a serial killer starting out around here, but he even confessed to more than what we thought he did. Including. . .I’m so sorry, Addy. Including Casey.”

They called it Death Road. It’s taking everything from you, Addison. It’s taking you.

She lowered her head down on to the table.

Endless time ticked on.

---

She and Charlie were done talking. She walked out. For the first time in a while, he walked with her. He didn’t quite have his hand on her back, but she felt it hovering there. It was really the only thing she could feel. She couldn’t feel her own breathing, but she heard it, labored and heaving. She couldn’t feel her own heartbeat, but she heard it with the ringing in her ears. Slow and hollow, like a hole had been seared through it, burning what little was left to a dark crisp.

She was in his car, and he was driving him home.

“Don’t take Blackburn,” she said to him quietly. Some days, she wished her last name was still Cooke. Some days, she didn’t know what was worse. “Don’t take Blackburn Road.”

“Okay.”

It was going to kill her if she took it. The same way it killed her mother, her brothers and sisters, the car twisted around a jagged tree like a cursed ring. Addy crawled out through the broken glass and her blood pooled in the cracks on the road, shiny and slick with rain. That’s why they called it Blackburn Road. The same way it killed her son, reaching up through the cracks and sucking him down with the rest of them. Blackburn Road. It was coming for all of them. She didn’t care if she died, but the thought of dying there too, again at the mercy of its gaping maw, was so terrifying she couldn’t breathe.

“What was his name?” she gasped out, focusing on the road signs, the signs that said anything else, but she couldn’t read right now. Her breath was trembling, and uneven. “The man who. . .”

“James Eden.”

“That’s a bitch name,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. “Fucking Eden.”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say how?”

“Addy. . .”

“I want to know if he suffered.”

Charlie only paused for a second, but that second of silence was the worst thing she had ever heard. She wanted to scream, but something was shackling her breath.

“I really can’t tell you that stuff now,” he muttered.

“What did he say?”

“Come on, Addy.”

“Don’t–”

“I just. . .” Charlie sighed. “Not much I can tell you, okay? We just showed him a picture of Casey, to see if he had any connection, and he confessed. Like that. We can maybe. . .well, he hasn’t given us much on anything, when it comes to. . .finding stuff. But we hope–”

“You showed him?”

“Huh?”

“You showed him a picture first? And told him Case’s name?”

“Uh, yeah. Not me personally. Jane did. You know, Detective Callahan.”

“I know.” Detective Callahan came by her house a lot. Detective Callahan walked away, too. “So he didn’t really. . .he just said. . .”

“Addison.”

“I’m just saying, did he really do it? You needed to show him before–”

“Jesus Christ! Look, I know we fucked up with you and Ben, alright? Constantly! I know Ben is not a fucking stand-up guy! In the least! But if you start up on this–”

“You didn’t see the tapes, Charlie. They showed me the tapes. Ben’s car wasn’t stolen from that parking lot. It was never there.”

“Ben was there.”

“He walked in from the woods.”

“Addy–”

“He walked in from the woods, and he went inside, and he waited there for you to pick him up. Charlie. Please.”

“Maybe he parked somewhere else.”

“But he said it was stolen from–”

“Maybe he was simplifying it, Addison! I mean, Christ! All you have is a bunch of goddamn conspiracy theories here!”

“I don’t! You don’t know him like me. You never have.”

“Addy, even if it’s true, you got those illegally. We can’t use them, can’t get them without probable cause, which, there is none, and we can’t act based on your bad feeling alone!”

She laughed. She couldn’t feel it in her chest or throat, but it bubbled out of her mouth like an overflowing pot. “Let me out here.”

“What?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Addy, come on–”

“I don’t know why I thought you would ever help me. Act on my bad feeling?” she laughed. “You didn’t even act on evidence. How fucking stupid was I, right?”

“It’s not like that. You just. . .you just lost. . .look, you’re not in a good place, okay? I’m trying to help, I just–”

“I know what you just. Let me out of the goddamn car, or I swear to god I’ll climb out this window.”

“Jesus–”

He let her out, of course. Charlie was good at following orders. That was all he was good at. Her walk home was long, and it was dark when she made it back, and she knew, she knew, she knew–

---

She stood in front of the door. She was working up the nerve to knock, breathing deep and steady with her eyes closed, hands hanging loose by her sides. But she wasn’t scared anymore. She didn’t feel anything, really, except for the steady, slow beat of her heart. It was strange, how it beat so well with a hole through the middle.

We can’t help you, Addison. That was all she could think of. The only thing running through her head. It was almost serene. We can’t help. They believed James Eden killed her son the same way they believed Benjamin Cooke never laid a hand on her. Sorry, but we’re not. Can’t help. Well for the last fucking time, she was going to help herself. Good riddance.

She brought her fist do the door, slowly, like a dream, and knocked three times. Then, she moved her hand behind her back. It would be bad if Ben saw the knife before he let her inside. Obviously, it would be bad.

They said James Eden would get death for what he did. The door swung open in a harsh, quick motion.

“Addy,” he said, and he sounded like a snake. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She felt herself smile. An eye for an eye.

#ohhhhh my god its bad but i need to submit it so maybe getting my ass roasted twice will soften the blow #clood sucks #shit i write #im not looking for ppl to kiss my ass or anything and i know none of my writing is perfect but tbh critique scares me lmfao #not in like a 'im flawless i dont need it way' but in a 'im an oversensitive bitch with low self esteem' way #rip #i named her after 2 fictional characters in case u cant tell #i dont want to say bc then this story will end up in those tags but #at least one of them should be obvious #points at my icon

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