#before I pulled myself together enough to take a valium | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 9

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows

They don’t speak on the drive into town; the tension that hovers over them thick and suffocating. Tyler can’t remember the last time he’s felt this agitated with Ovi. If he’s ever felt this way. Where every little movement the kid makes or even the slightest clearing of the throat or a small cough is enough to sever that last shred of sanity. And when out of the corner of his eye he sees Ovi’s fingers begin to tap against his knees, he snaps at him to ‘knock it the fuck off’. It’s never bothered him that badly; even in Dhaka it had only been a minor annoyance. But Ovi hasn’t done it in years; stopping almost immediately after that’d taken him to Colorado. Where his life had been simpler and less stressful, and he wasn’t looking over his shoulder ninety nine percent of the time and his nerves were no longer as raw and fragile. And it’s more irritating that he’s slipping back into old habits than the actual habit itself.

“It just annoys me,” he explains, his tone softer. Apologetic. And he knows he isn’t on edge just because of the fallout from the night before. It’s been three days since he’s taken the Valium, always cutting them out when he feels as if he’s doing better and no longer needs them. Then having to suffer the consequences not only when he’s off the med, but when he starts back up and has to deal with the brutal side effects all over again. “What are you so nervous about anyway?” he asks.

“You,” Ovi readily admits.

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

He shrugs.

“If I was going to lose my shit on you, I would have done it while we were still in the driveway.”

“I know you’ll still pissed,” Ovi says. “I can tell.”

“Yeah? How?”

“You’ve been doing twenty over the speed limit since we left the house. Your knuckles keep cracking because you’re holding the steer wheel so tight. Just like your jaw keeps popping because you’ve got it clenched so hard. And have you ever looked in the mirror when you’re mad? At your eyes?”

“Not exactly.”

“You don’t even have to say anything. It’s all on your face. It’s all in your eyes.”

He’s been told that before. Many times. That he doesn’t even have to utter a word; that one look is enough to let someone know to either tread lightly or just avoid him altogether. It isn’t something he’s exactly proud of. It may have come in handy while on the job, but in his personal life it’s been pure and utter hell. His own wife having to often walk on eggshells because she can just tell when it’s been a bad day, or those demons are getting ready to surface. Of all the people who shouldn’t have to feel that way, it’s her. The person who’s been by his side through the lowest of all the goddamn lowest and has seen him at the darkest points in his life. Who’d put her own ass on the line back on that bridge in Dhaka, sticking by him and keeping him alive even though there was a very real chance that both of them could end up dead.

“I get it. You’re mad,” Ovi sighs. “And you’ve got every right to be. I shouldn’t have caused problems last night. After dinner. With Esme.”

“You think that’s what I’m most pissed about?” Tyler scoffs. “The fact that you upset her?”

“I know how protective you are. I know you don’t like people overstepping when it comes to her. That you don’t like to see her upset.”

“I don’t. I fucking hate seeing her upset. Especially when she cries. But we worked through all that last night and put it behind us. She’s dealing with some stuff. Stuff her and I are going to work on together and make sure she gets through. Trust me, it wasn’t just Chloe opening her big goddamn mouth that caused issues.”

“That isn’t the way I wanted it come out,” Ovi sighs. “I wanted to tell her myself. I didn’t want her to find out like that.”

“I didn’t want her to find out at all. There was no reason for her to find out about it. Once I told you that I wasn’t interested, that should have been it. And you should have told Chloe to keep her mouth shut. Now Esme’s ready to throat punch her and I don’t think that’s the hill Chloe wants to die on. You know how Esme gets.”

Ovi’s eyes widen as he nods. It takes a lot to get Esme to the point of losing it, but he’s been there when it’s happened, and it isn’t a pretty sight. How a little thing like her can have that much rage and vengeance inside of her is both impressive and terrifying.

They find an empty parking spot across the street from Ovi’s restaurant of choice; a newly opened sports bar that features traditional pub fare and twenty different domestic and foreign beers in tap. Tyler can smell it the second they step through the door, the powerful mixture of various types of alcohol. And it makes him nauseous and triggers the craving. It’s been intense the last four days, and Ovi’s announcement of wanting to try his hand at the job had kicked things into high gear; he can practically taste it on his lips. But it’s more than Ovi and the job. So much more. The cutting of the Valium cold turkey, the rapid approach of Millie’s six birthday and the dreams he’s been having of her and Austin, the pain that never seem to cease despite taking those meds religiously.

They’re offered a seat at the bar that Tyler declines and suggests the sparsely populated outdoor patio. There are two reasons: he can avoid breathing in the scent of booze and seeing people enjoying their drinks, and his back won’t be to the door. He can’t break himself of the habit. For years...decades even...he’s had to sit facing any entrance or exit. It’s safer that way; no one can speak up on you and try to put a bullet in your head or slit your throat. It’s happened to a few mercenaries that have stepped on the wrong toes: letting their guard down and meeting an untimely and gruesome end. He wonders if he’ll ever get over it. The need to always have his guard up. If one day he’ll get up in the morning and the hyper-vigilance won’t exist anymore. If he’ll sleep through the night without even the lightest of noises immediately wake him. If he won’t constantly be on the lookout for even the slightest hint of danger or find something suspicious in even the smallest of action. If he’ll stop viewing everything he sees...everyone he comes across....as a potential threat.

The waitress seems disappointed when they both opt for ice water as opposed to beer. Booze makes the bill higher, which in turn makes her for a bigger tip.

“Yeah, well my sobriety is a little more important than helping you out,” he informs her, and she gives him a sympathetic, understanding smile and has the gall to lay her hand on the top of his bicep and actually give it a slight squeeze. And he frowns as he watches her head back into the restaurant, shaking his head when she gives him a long glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

“Everywhere we go,” Ovi laments. “Everywhere."

“You think you have it bad. I’ve got strangers trying to feel me up all the time.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t look like that,” Ovi suggests.

“Or maybe you should step up and take one for the team and get your game on. I’ve got a wife to keep happy. She likes the way I look. You’ve just got Chloe and anything’s a step up from that. So....”

Ovi ignores the cheap shot and flips open the menu in front of him. “So what’s going on?” he asks. “With Esme? Is she okay?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits. “But she will be.”

“Is she sick or...”

“Look mate, I know you’re worried. I know how close the two of you are. How much you love her. But I love her more. And I respect her. Which means I can’t tell you. It’s personal. And we’re dealing with it.”

“But she’ll be okay, right? Like she’s not going to die or anything like that?”

“It’s nothing like that. I promise. It’s just personal and she’s struggling and it’s something we need to deal with. That I have to help her with. She’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Ovi sighs and begins drumming his fingers against the tabletop. Stopping and giving an apologetic smile when Tyler glares at him. “Sorry,” he moves his hand to his thigh. Out of sight, out of mind. “I just worry,” he says. “I don’t want anything bad happening to her. She didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom. She’s the only mom I remember having. I don’t want to lose that.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Tyler assures him. “You just have to trust me. That I’ll help her through things.”

“I do,” Ovi says. “Trust you.”

“Yeah?” he sips his water. “So why didn’t you trust me enough to come to me sooner. About the job. That’s why we’re here, right? You want to talk about it in a public place because you know I won’t lose my shit on you.”

“Maybe,” Ovi sheepishly admits.

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. You know how I feel about it. You think it’s a terrible idea. That I think you’re way too good for that life. That you deserve a lot better than that.”

“So did you,” Ovi points out. “You deserved a lot better than that. But you still went into it.”

“I deserved shit. I was a fucking mess. Addicted to booze, addicted to pills, I’d abandoned my own kid when he was dying. I was a horrible fucking person and I deserved everything fucked up that the job entailed. I didn’t give a shit if I lived or died. I just didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger myself. Figured if someone did it for me, it was an easy way out. And if I did survive, I’d get paid for doing it. Win win, don’t you think?”

“I think that’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard,” Ovi says. “You made some mistakes. You were in a bad place. Especially when your son was sick. Doesn’t mean you had to pay for those decisions with your life. That’s just...I don’t know...wrong."

“It’s where I was at the time. It’s what I felt I deserved. And if I’d died in Dhaka...” he shrugs. “...I died.”

“That’s messed up. You’ve paid for your mistakes. For your bad decisions. When you got me across the bridge. One good thing erases all the bad. You didn’t have to do it, but you did. You could have just left me in the street. When you knew there was no money. But you didn’t. You still put yourself on the line to get me out of there. A bad person doesn’t do something like that. And you can’t convince me otherwise.”

He’d been looking for an absolution. Redemption, even. To wipe his slate clean. Some days he feels as if he’s found it. That he’d been given a second chance to be a good person; blessed with a wife and five amazing kids and a peaceful, comfortable life. Other days he feels as if he’s still stuck in the same nightmare. Guilt that plagues him, dreams that haunt his sleep, a brain that won’t let him truly rest.

“I just want to try it,” Ovi says. “The job. Just to see if it’s my thing.”

“It isn’t something you just ‘try’. You either go in balls to wall or you don’t go in it all. You want to try something? You want excitement? You want to test your adrenaline? Go bungee jumping or cliff diving or sky diving or shit like that. Don’t go into the job. Because it isn’t excitement you’re going to find. It’s death. And lots of it.”

“I like the idea of the risk. The danger.”

“All of a sudden you get off on having a gun held to your head? Or having to fight off a group of guys in a dark alley? Or constantly wondering if there’s a sniper getting ready to put a bullet in your brain? Fuck that. You’re smarter than this. Way too smart to think any of this is a good idea. And if it’s Chloe putting this bullshit in your head...”

“It’s not Chloe,” Ovi interjects. “It’s not. It’s me.”

“Bullshit. Because you’ve never once talked about any of this since she came along. Tell her if she has a death wish, she can go out and do the job. Get her to commit. Don’t let her throw you to the wolves, mate. Don’t let her make you think you’ve got something to prove or that this is the only thing that will ‘make you a man’. Because that’s shit and we both know it. That’s not what makes a man a man. Killing people. And it doesn’t matter if they deserve it or not.”

“You don’t think I can handle it, do you.”

“I know you can’t. And that’s not a slight on you. Some people are made to do the job, and some people aren’t. Some people are made for bigger and better things. And you’re one of these people. You’re made for bigger and better things. Why would you want to settle for anything less?”

Ovi shrugs. “I want to do some good. After what you did for me in Dhaka....”

“I did what I had to do, mate. What I wanted to do. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I don’t expect thanks. And I don’t expect you to spend the rest of your life showing how grateful you are. I just want you to happy and live a good life. A good, long life. And that won’t happen if you get into the job. There’s rarely a good ending, trust me.”

“You’ve been given a good ending,” Ovi points out.

“And I’ve probably used up all of the good luck that can come to one family. So about we not test it, yeah? How about you just forget about all of this and find something else to do with your life. Go back to school. Get an education. Get into a real career. I’ll pay for it. No hesitation. Just don’t do the job. That’s all I’m asking. That you do not get into that life.”

Ovi nods slowly as he considers Tyler’s words; eyes riveted on his menu, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “I have a confession to make,” he speaks after several minutes.

“I don’t think I like the sounds of this.”

“I’ve been talking to someone. About all of this. For a while now. Someone that’s still in the business and could answer all my questions and lead me in the right direction. Someone that wouldn’t freak out and threaten to beat my ass.”

“Someone who would encourage you to do stupid shit you mean,” Tyler concludes.

“I needed to talk about it. With someone who wouldn’t get upset about it. Who doesn’t have the history like you do. So...” his voice trails off.

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the hell did you do?”

That's when he feels it; a presence lingering off to his right. A familiar scent. A firm hand that falls on his shoulder. And he doesn’t even need to look back. He just knows.

“Hey Nik.”

****

“You look good,” she says in way of greeting, her hands massaging his shoulders. “The retired life suits you.” He’s considerably bigger now; wider, stronger, a brick wall of muscle. The time he’s both devoted to the gym and living cleaner makes him feel healthier. And happier.

He smirks. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but...”

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome. At least not from you. But it’s good to see you, Tyler I’m glad life has been treating you well. Of all the people who want a happy ending, you're the one who actually deserved it.”

“What are you doing here, Nik? I know it’s not just to stroke my ego.”

“Ovi invited me,” she gives his shoulders a final squeeze before sliding around to the other side of the table, waving down the waitress before slipping into the empty seat alongside of the younger man. “So we could talk. We haven’t seen or talked to each other in six months. I was starting to worry about you.”

“You mean you were starting to get nosy,” Tyler retorts. “Wanted to see if my life had fallen apart. If maybe my wife had taken off with my kids yet. Kyle doesn’t keep you up to date on this stuff? I am married to his sister.”

“Kyle’s been very adamant about keeping his loyalties to his sister. The last time Esme and I spoke, things didn’t end very well. She was stressed, you were on your way home, and she was worried about how to help you. Things were a little...harsh...between us.”

“For a reason,” Tyler points out. “I know exactly what you talked about and what she said to you. We don’t keep secrets. So cut the bullshit, Nik. What are you doing here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

“I’d believe you if you told me you missed the things I can do for you. And I’m not talking behind closed doors, either. So don’t get your hopes up.”

Ovi shifts uncomfortably in his seat; thankful when the waitress comes to take Nik’s drink order. It lifts the tension and the hostility, at least temporarily.

“Last time we talked, things didn’t go so well,” she address Tyler. “You told me to never contact you. Never to just show up out of the blue, never to text you, never email you.”

“Yet here you are so for some reason. Tracking me down where I live. Which I’m pretty sure I told Kyle to never mention to you. So you couldn’t just show up.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You of all should know if I have ways of finding things out. You’re harder than most, I have to admit. You know how to cover your tracks. You barely leave a footprint. Still holding onto certain things, I see. Trying to exist but seem like a ghost at the same time. Old habits die hard, don’t they, Tyler.”

“You have no right being here, Nik. I asked you to stay away from me. No. I told you to stay away from me. I finally have a life. Somewhere quiet and peaceful where I don’t have to constantly look over my shoulder and I know my kids are safe. And you...” he stares pointedly at Ovi. “...what the fuck, mate? You knew I’d cut ties with her. With everyone involved in the job. Yet you go and do this?”

“Ovi thought it was a good idea that you and I talk,” Nik speaks for him. “We haven’t touched base in a long time. It’s a good idea, don’t you think? If we get used to one another again? I am marrying your brother in law.”

They’d gotten the invitation a month ago; thick ivory card stock with gold leafing on the inside of the envelope and the invitation itself covered in dried, pressed flowers and ornate calligraphy done in rich cooper colored ink. It hadn’t been much of a surprise; Kyle had already created an entire Facebook page just to document their journey as an engaged couple. And while they’d tried to be happy for Kyle’s sake, there was a lingering bitterness towards Nik that neither of them could let go of. She’d worked too long and too hard trying to destroy their marriage, why would they want to have anything to do with hers? So the invitation sat on the top of the fridge collecting dust and they never spoke of it again.

“And you’ll be living in Colorado or wherever the hell you’ll drag his ass too and I won’t have to do have anything to do with either of you. I don’t care if you’re marrying him or not. As long as you stay away from me, stay away from my wife, and stay away from my kids.”

“That’s not the way to treat a relative is it,” she coyly remarks, then gives a nod of appreciation to the waitress as she returns with her martini. “The baby’s beautiful by the way. Congratulations. Kyle’s shown me the pictures. She looks just like Esme. I’m looking forward to meeting my niece.”

“You’re not going to get close enough to meet her face to face, so...”

“Can’t you two just stop?” Ovi pleads. “Enough. Enough with this going back and forth. That’s not what we’re here for.”

“What are we here for?” Tyler asks, as he leans back in his chair and places his clasped hands on his stomach. “And don’t give me some bullshit, Nik. Just say what you want and get out of here.”

“Ovi asked me to come and talk some sense into you.”

“More like he wanted me to just cave in and agree with what he wants to do. Not going to happen. So if that’s what you’re going to try and do, you’re wasting your time and you should just get on the next flight out of here and...”

“I’ve been recruiting him,” she says. “I’ve been recruiting him for about a month now. After he contacted me wanting information about the job.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the hell are you doing, Nik? And why are you doing it? We both know that he’s not job material. That he wouldn’t last a day out there.”

“He’s tenacious, has a lot of energy, he’s smart.”

“Too smart to get involved with this. There are a million and one better things he could be doing with his life. And being tenacious and having a lot of energy doesn’t mean shit when you’re out there. When you’ve got to make the quick decisions in order to keep yourself alive. He doesn’t have what it takes. He doesn’t have it in him to hurt people. He killed Gaspar and that fucked him up for years.”

“He was a kid then,” she reminds him. “And if I remember correctly, I’m the one that said calling Gaspar wasn’t a good idea. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were so determined that he’d help you out because you’d saved his life. How did that go for you, Tyler? Trusting him? It didn’t take long for his loyalty to you to disappear, did it. As soon as there was ten million put on the table. Ten million for him and Esme, right? That was the deal. Most men would have taken it.”

“What can I say, Nik?” he smirks. “I’m not most men.”

“He would have killed you to get to them. He wouldn’t have stopped until you were dead. And if Ovi hadn’t have picked up that gun...”

“He was fourteen years old and it fucked him up,” Tyler angrily interrupts. “It doesn’t mean if has what it takes to go out there and kill people. You’re smarter than this. Both of you are. So I don’t know who is brainwashing who, but...”

“You made me a promise, Tyler,” she says. “We made a deal. That I’d start a second branch and you’d run things.”

“That’s before things ended the way they did. Once I walked away from New Zealand, that was it. Fuck our deal. It meant shit after that.”

“I’ve offered Ovi a job. A position with my team. As a mercenary.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Nik. You’re both out of your minds. This is a bad goddamn idea and you know it. I gotta get out of here before I say or do something I really regret. I’ve got places I’d rather be than sitting here listening to this bullshit ”

Ovi throws his hands up in a mix of disappointment and exasperation and Nik instructs him to stay where he is as she hurries after Tyler, who easily escapes the patio just by swinging one leg over the makeshift fence, then the other. She has to leave through the restaurant itself, and he’s already across the street and using the keyless remote to unlock his truck.

“You owe me this,” Nik growls, and lays a hand on the driver’s side window, forcing the door closed when Tyler tries to open it.

“I owe you shit. I’ve given you enough. I almost gave you my fucking life. Isn’t that good enough for you? You were perfectly fine with leaving me on that bridge to die.”

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.”

“It took you twenty minutes to come back. And you only did it because Yaz said he was going with or without you. You weren’t just going to leave me there; you were going to leave Esme there. Do you know what would have happened? Once Asif sent more people down there and saw that she was alive? Do you know what they would have done to her? I wouldn’t have been as quick and painless as a bullet in the head. They would have made her suffer and you knew it and you still left her there.”

“It all worked out in the end, didn’t it? The two of you. Marriage, five kids. You got your happy ending, didn’t you?”

“Because that’s what makes it all okay, yeah? That things didn’t get worse. We were expendable. Once you got Ovi, you didn’t give a shit about either of us. You could keep whatever money you got. Two less people to have to share it with. Or were you that pissed about what went down? Those five days in the hotel. You knew what was going on. Did it piss you off that bad? That you’d just leave us there to die? Did we need to be punished, Nik? You needed to get even because it wasn’t you I was fucking.”

“Fuck you, Tyler!” she snaps, and he catches her by the wrist before the slap can even connect with his face. His fingers biting straight through the flesh and pressing painful against the bone.

“What do you want?” he hisses. “Why are you here? You won’t be happy until you completely fuck up my life? Until my wife leaves me and takes my kids?”

“That’s not it. At all.”

“Then what is it?” he snarls. “Quit wasting my fucking time and tell me.”

“I want your help,” she struggles against his grasp “With Ovi.”

“I’m not giving you shit.”

“I want you to just listen to me....and ow!” she lays her forearm against his chest and tries to shove him away. It’s as successful as trying to move a brick wall with your bare hands. “You’re hurting me!”

“Try to hit me again and I won’t hesitate putting you on your ass, understand me?”

She nods, then takes two steps back once he releases. “I just want you to listen to me. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. I don’t to bring you back into the job. I just want you to help me with Ovi. I’ve given him a spot but on condition. He needs training. Lots of it. I can’t send him into a situation without him knowing how to handle different weapons, hand to hand to combat, how to assess situations and problems before they arise.”

“I’m about five seconds away from washing my hands of this. Of you, of him, of this goddamn bullshit mess. This is a mistake. A huge mistake. And I’m not going to just sit back and watch you fuck his life up. He doesn’t have it, Nik. And I know you see that. I know you see what I do. Why the hell push it? Why encourage when you could be helping him make his life better, not worse.”

She places her hands on her hips, regarding him with her head cocked to the side. “Why are you so against him doing this?”

“You’re actually asking me that? After everything he’s been through. After everything he saw in Dhaka. After living with us for five years and seeing my marriage nearly fucking destroyed because of the job. You have the nerve to ask me that? He’s better than this. And he deserves better and I’m not going just sit here and watch you screw up his entire life.”

“You can’t stop him, Tyler. He’s a grown man. He can make is own decisions.”

“He can’t even talk for himself and you think he can go into a place like Dhaka and handle shit? Enough with the bullshit, Nik. This ends. Right here. Right now. This is a mistake and you know it. And the fact you would even prey on him like this...”

“I didn’t prey on him,” she interjects. “He contacted me.”

“And you could have told him that you weren’t interested and to never call you again.”

“And then what? Him find someone else? Someone that doesn’t have nearly the same experience? That would have ended badly, and you know it.”

“This is going to end badly!” Tyler snarls. “Because he doesn’t have it and you know it and I know it. For fuck sakes, Nik. Enough.”

She remains steadfast. “You can train him.”

“Like hell I can!”

“You’re the best mercenary I’ve ever had. There’s no one that can train him the way you can. I know you think you’re probably rusty and you...”

“That’s not what I think. That has nothing to do with it. I’m not saying I can’t do it. I’m saying I won’t do it. I’m not getting involved with this. I’m done.”

“You don’t actually have to go on a job,” she informs him. “It can all be done right here. There are gyms, there’s firing ranges, there’s an entire beach at your disposal you can use to your advantage. I’m not trying to bring you back. I just want you to help.”

“I’m not helping you, Nik. I was done helping you six months ago. And I love the kid like he’s my own, but I wouldn’t let any of my boys get into the job so I'm sure as fuck not going to let him. What the hell is wrong with you? That you’d even have the nerve to come to me with this?”

“He’s your son, Tyler. Maybe not by blood. But...”

“Yeah. He is. Which is why I’m not helping you. I told his old man I’d take care of him. Not throw him to the fucking wolves!”

“So you’d rather I just send him out there with no training?” she challenges.

“I’d rather you give your head a fucking shake and realize what a huge mistake you’re making.”

“This is what he wants, Tyler. He wants a chance to prove himself.”

“To who? You? To his girlfriend? Who is just as delusional as you, by the way. The two of you should meet. You’d make a great pair.”

“You ever stop to think he’s trying to prove something to you?”

“What the hell does that mean? What does he have to prove to me? When have I ever made him think he has to?”

“You may not have made him feel that way, but he does. He thinks he has to fill your shoes. Take up where you left off.”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve never made him feel that way. And I never would.”

“It’s how he feels. He feels he needs to live up to something. That he needs to prove to you that he’s good enough. That he’s worthy of being your son.”

“Jesus Christ, Nik,” Tyler laughs. “That is really reaching. Are you just making this shit up as you go along?”

“I can send you the text messages. The emails. That he sent me when I asked him why he wanted to do this. That way you can see for yourself that what I’m saying is the truth. He feels he owes you something. For saving them. And for nearly dying while doing it.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything. It was my job.”

“It was more than that you and you know it, Tyler. It stopped being about the job the second Mahajan screwed us over. It was all about Ovi from that point on. Because somehow saving him meant you were saving yourself. That you’d find forgiveness for the mistakes you’d made. He saw what you went through. Not just during Dhaka, but after it. And he feels guilty for that. He wants to make it up to you.”

“He has nothing to make up for. I did what I had to do. Nothing more, nothing less. We both know that he can’t hack it. The job. There’s no way.”

“He deserves a chance.”

“A chance for what? Getting shot in the fucking head?”

“He’s going to do this whether you like it or not, Tyler. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to make a real go of it? To survive his first day.”

He sighs. “Of course, I do.”

“If you train him...”

“I can’t. I can’t encourage him to do this. I told Esme I’d do everything I had to to stop him, not help him.”

She smirks. “That’s what it comes down to right? His safety and his life isn’t worth more than her trying to control you? She hasn’t done that enough? When she made you walk away?”

“We’re done, Nik,” he yanks the driver’s side door open.

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” she shuts the door once again. “You’re going to let her call the shots? Still? It wasn’t enough for you to just walk away? She has to control everything else too?”

“I made the decision. I’m the one who left. She was the one who told me go back to New Zealand and when I got there, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I left willingly. Because my wife and my kids are the most important things in my life, and it was time I showed that to them.”

“And Ovi isn’t important to you? He's not important enough to save his life?”

“I’ve already done that once. And I wouldn’t have to do it a second time if you weren’t encouraging him to do this shit.”

“And if you weren’t encouraging him to prove to you that he’s worthy of your love. Of being one of your kids.”

He shakes his head and gives a dry laugh. “I’m going home, Nik. To my wife. I’m done. I’m not letting you drag me back into this. You find someone else. I’ve shed enough blood for you.”

She relents, holding her hands up in surrender as she backs away from the truck. “You’ll regret this Tyler.”

“Yeah?” he tosses the door open and climbs into the truck. “Add it the list”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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old-read-all-about-kpop · 5 years

Note

Hewwoo it's me again, I hope I'm not bothering you ;w; I just really like your writings! Could I request for a scenario between student council!you and badboy!ravn? I just get the badboy vibe from him ahshsjdk the genre is up to you, I love everything that you post uwu thank you!

A/N: You’re joking right? You are not bothering me at all lovely! I’m happy that you enjoyed my writing enough that you wanted to request once more. That brings me so much joy! 🥺💖 This concept has caused me to create the (almost) perfect scenario! I hope you enjoy reading it my dear! 💓

Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending

Warning!: Slight vulgarity

You wanted the floor to swallow you and never allow you to see the break of dawn again. You, the Vice President of the student council, were outside the principal’s office to be scolded. Why you may ask? Because of the biggest douchebag in the school, Kim Youngjo, who prefers to be called Ravn.

How it all happened was idiotic to say the least. You knew you should have just been the bigger person. But, what Ravn said was hurtful. His friend was no better but, sadly, his words affected you the most. You wished you could rewind time but that’d be too much to ask for.

You and the rest of the student council were having a bake sale. Over the weekend you all made some sugary treats to sell for new football uniforms and, hopefully, new textbooks. In your opinion, the latter would do more good. But no one would acknowledge your opinion.

You were considered the “nerdy b****” who needed to get laid. Or needed to have a Valium and then get laid.

Anyway, your reason for being somewhere you would only be if you had an issue to convey with the principal was simple. You hit the idiot of a jock, Ravn (you snarl at the thought of him), in the back of his precious letterman jacket with a cupcake.

“If the nerdy b**** wants to make money then she should just lay on her back,” you heard one say as the muscle head jocks strolled by.

“Or get on her knees,” muttered Ravn.

His fellow douchebag friends hollared with laughter at his remark. They slapped him on the back as if he scored a three pointer before the blaring of the shot clock.

Your retaliation? You snatched up an innocent cupcake and chucked it at Ravn, perfectly aimed at the jaguar sewed in the middle of his precious varsity jacket.

Ravn could’ve been steaming at the ears from how pissed he looked. If looks could kill, you’d be twelve feet under.

He stalked toward you, having you feel as though you were in the Amazon Rainforest. You stood tall, though. You refused to show any signs of timidity. All through your high school career you’ve kept quiet, allowing people to do/say anything to you. Now, you were tired of staying quiet. People were gonna hear from you.

Ravn took off his jacket and examined it, all the while clicking his tongue and sucking his teeth. He chuckled dryly as he saw the cupcake holding onto his jacket. He took it off and spun it around his long fingers.

“Very funny of you. Now…I wonder…if this little cupcake can hold on to my jacket…maybe it can hold onto the slimy strands of your oily hair.”

WHAM!

You gasped in horror. You blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the situation while also keeping your cool. But it was disappearing by the second.

Ravn went ahead and smacked the cupcake on the top of your head. Everyone around you two were silent, their anticipation for what was to come stinking the air.

Soon enough, you two engaged in a food war. You launched cupcakes at him while Ravn threw slices of cake, decorating the corner of the cafeteria you had with cavity-producing sweets.

Now, you two were sitting outside the principal’s office, awaiting your punishments. You knew you were in for it once your parents got called. The disappointment they’d feel was gonna be unbearable. To keep from crying, you dug your nails into your flesh. Whenever they slid over your flesh, you’d sink them back in. The cycle would repeat when needed.

“Stop that!” A voice exclaimed. “You’re making your skin red.”

A warm hand touched you. You jumped away as if you got burned.

Ravn leaned back. Wide-eyed, he raised his hands slowly, trying to appear harmless.

You huffed, placing your chin in your open hand. You focused your eyes on the clock ahead, hoping to zone out as you watched the second hand tick by.

“Listen. What happened back at lunch didn’t have to go down like that. Obviously, we could have handled things differently.”

“Oh, like me allowing you and your dumb jock friends to belittle and degrade me with voices loud enough for me to hear. Yeah, I’m sure that would’ve been a preferred scenario for you, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you and I both know that’s not what I meant.”

“Don’t call me that!” You whipped around to look st him, your gaze fiery. “You lost your chance to call me any cute pet names the minute you started acting differently at the start of this school year.”

Ravn sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping. “I never meant to treat you like a nobody.”

“Then what did you mean exactly, Youngjo? Because how you mistreated me was awful! All summer we hung out, sharing little bits about ourselves, staying up talking until God-awful hours in the night.” Despite your efforts to keep them at bay, tears spilled. “You took my first kiss.”

You quickly wiped your face, sniffling your emotions back up. “So, you didn’t just treat me like a nobody. You’ve treated me like a summer fling.”

You needed to remain strong. But all you did was appear strong for these past two months, having to constantly see the boy who owned your heart despite you fighting the reality of it. You were tired now. The act was becoming exhausting.

Suddenly, two hands took possession of your cheeks. You tried to jerk away, but the hands simply tightened their hold.

“Don’t fight me right now, angel. I just need to look into your eyes while I say this.” He then started rubbing the tear streaks away with the pads of his thumbs. And that action alone was how he got you under his control.

Ravn leaned in closer, licking his lips nervously as he gazed into your eyes with his dark brown ones. “Sweetheart, I know I screwed up. No…I f***** up. Babygirl, you became my gravity over the summer. You held me down more than I could say for any of the people I hang out with and call my ‘friends’. You been there for me more than my own parents. You understand me. And, the moments you don’t, you take the time to try.”

He was closer than ever now, causing your lips to brush together in the slightest. Just from the ghost of a touch from his pink lips had your breathing becoming shallow. Your body felt like it was vibrating. The pull you felt toward Ravn was impeccable. You felt as though you two were the only ones existing in this moment.

“If you would let me, I would love to make this right, baby. I miss you with every fiber of my being. It takes everything in me not to kiss you in front of all these pricks in this dumb school. Believe me if you want to.”

You sighed shakily. You wanted nothing more than to melt into Ravn and take him back. But, you needed to set some ground rules. You weren’t going to be treated like a fool again.

“One condition.”

“Baby, you could name a thousand. I don’t care. Name it and I’ll do it.”

“Either be your own person or forget us ever becoming more.”

Ravn dropped his gaze. He knew what you were insinuating.

“Your jock friends pressure you to be someone you’re not. You showed me a Ravn over the summer completely different from this Ravn. Look me in my eyes and say this is who you really are and we won’t have to waste each other’s time any longer.”

Ravn shifted his eyes to yours. His hands seized yours, bringing them to his lips.

“This isn’t the person I want to be. And I’m truly sorry for Hwanwoong’s comment and mine. It was truly unacceptable. I should’ve defended you instead of engaging in such awful talk about you. I’m really sorry, angel.

He leaned in closer. His gaze deepened, unknowingly pulling you more into its abyss.

“I promise you I will treat you how you’re supposed to be treated from here on out. No matter how long my probation is until I regained your trust I’ll wait. For you, it’s worth it.”

“You really promise?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” He then released one of your hands and made an X where his heart is. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

A smile slowly appeared on your face. You looked down at your joined hands. Your heart swelled from the familiarity.

You looked back up at Ravn, regaining eye contact. You licked your lips before speaking. Ravn bit his lip, enduring a large amount of stress as he waits for your response. He wasn’t willing to let you go. He wouldn’t be able to go on with his life another second without you with him.

“If you’re hoping to die then, I guess, we can try again at this relationship.” A coy smile took over your features.

Ravn’s eyes grew wide. Simultaneously, a huge smile covered half his face.

“Yes!” He yelled before pulling you out of your seat and wrapping you up in a tight bear hug.

Dried icing fell to the floor like dust off of chalk as your clothes rubbed against each other. But neither of you cared to notice.

“Thank you, babygirl! Thank you! I swear to you I will cherish you like you’re the most precious source of air in the entire world.” His grip grew tighter, causing you to feel secure. The pieces of your self-esteem, happiness, and heart felt like they were put back together as Ravn held you flush to his body.

Once again, you felt that bubbly feeling deep in your belly. The same thrill you felt in the summer is the same as what you’re feeling now. It might have maximized. Because you were finally back in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling right at home.

A/N: Okay this turned really freaking long. But I’m happy with the plot. A big pat on the back for myself if I must say. I’m sorry if you were waiting a long time my dear. But, I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this darling! 🤗💓

#requested #oneus ravn #ravn angst #ravn fluff #oneus imagines #oneus reactions #oneus scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

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literarytrashcollection · 5 years

Text

Where Are Any of Us Going? (Part 10/10): I Might Have Already

(Bucky x Reader) Final installment in this fic! Let me know what you thought!

The week leading up to the mission was spent in training. Bucky spent most of it hitting things nearby, whether with fists or knives or bullets was determined by what I was learning. He didn’t say much to me during that time, but he always hovered nearby, his face set in a permanent scowl as he watched Natasha beat the ever loving shit out of me daily.

Some days, he’d let me train with him. He would correct my posture, or my stance, or how I was throwing my punches, but it always came out clipped and gruff.

When we finally got alone time at the end of the night, he would sit close to me, his arm pressed against mine or my leg draped over his, but he still wouldn’t really speak. Before bed, he would remind me how much he loved me, how scared he was about what I was about to do, that he wasn’t mad at me, just the world. That made me feel slightly better about the Winter Shoulder ™ everyone seemed to be getting from him.

By the time it was time for me to leave, he was all but vibrating with barely controlled rage. But he was still sweet; he hugged me for a long time, his fingers pressing into my skin. I could feel rather than hear his ragged breathing and when he pulled away, he just turned around and stalked off, his shoulders tight.

I wish I could’ve done something to ease his suffering, just a little bit. He thought he was saying goodbye.

The plane ride was silent. Tony piloted the jet while Steve sat across from me, reading another Star Wars installment. It was a surreal feeling, knowing that I was going on a mission with the Avengers, something people only ever dreamed about.

By God, I didn’t want any of it.

Bucky’s flight was taking off approximately twelve hours after ours. By that time, we’d be in our hotel, radio silent in case anyone was listening, baiting our time until we had to get into position. I wouldn’t be able to call him and let him know that we landed okay. I wouldn’t be able to wish him well on his trip.

“Y/N,” Steve shook my shoulder and my eyes snapped open. “Hey, sorry, you fell asleep. We’re here.”

I stood up and stretched hard, following him out the door and onto the helicopter pad on top of the hotel Tony had rented for us. Tony talked for a few minutes with someone from the hotel and then passed us both room keys.

“No room service,” he winked and turned on his heel, walking inside. Steve stayed next to me as I followed, his heavy steps almost as silent as Bucky’s.

Steve stayed with me until I got to my room, and even then, he waited until I was securely inside before going down to his room. Good guy Steve.

I dropped my bag on the floor and flopped on the bed, burying my face under the pillows. Maybe if I suffocated myself a little bit, I could go home. No. Steve would just tell me I was being stupid, that I would be hurting Bucky, and I would end up staying.

I turned on a movie and curled up instead, hiding beneath my comforter to stare out the window at the night sky. City lights made it not so dark, a welcome reminder of home. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine being back in the tower. Bucky could just be out on a run with Steve and Sam.

My day dreaming was rudely interrupted by Steve slipping in. “Y/N, you seem more… down than usual.” He commented, sitting on the end of my bed with his back to me. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”

“Do I really have a choice at this point?” I asked, peeking my head over the top of my blanket slightly.

He glanced back at me, his eyes were sad. “I suppose not.” His shoulders slouched a little and he scooted back so he was sitting next to me, my back to him as I remained in my little safety cocoon. “Bucky knows what you’re really doing, doesn’t he?”

I nodded a little, nestling down into my pillows.

“That explains why he’s been such a jerk lately.” He sighed and tentatively rubbed my back a little. “I see how scared you are. If I could, I would send you right back home so you never had to deal with this. I know Buck would appreciate that more too.”

“Aren’t you all about fighting the bully? Wouldn’t this be one of those scenarios?”

He shrugged a little. “If you want to fight the bully, then hell yeah. I see how violent and strong you are. You’d be good at it. But I also understand standing by and letting the people who are literally in charge of taking care of this stuff, take care of it.”

I nodded, rolling over so I could look at him. “What if I don’t come back?”

“You will. You’re indestructible, remember?”

“But what if they know how to destroy me? Maybe their plan all along was for me to be made of metal. Bucky was right, a big enough magnet would probably put me out.”

He shrugged again. “No way of knowing until it happens. If it goes bad, I will be there as soon as I can to help you.”

I sighed and scooted closer, resting my head in his lap for comfort. “I wish Bucky could’ve held it together long enough for me to get out the door. His fear and worry is only making me fear and worry more.”

Steve rested his hand on my shoulder and relaxed a little. “He’s always been good at hiding that stuff behind humor. That just kind of goes to show how scared his is.”

“You’re not helping,”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Did I ever tell you about the time when he got his orders and was leaving and literally had to pull a guy twice my size off me?”

I shook my head. Steve chuckled a little and launched into the story, then several more about his childhood with Bucky. It was reassuring. And it was distracting. I fell asleep, listening to Steve talk about Bucky.

“We’re leaving in ten,” Tony yelled through my door as I tried to shimmy into the bulletproof suit.

“I feel like a sausage being shoved into its casing,” I yelled back, jumping enough to finally get the suit over my hips. That was the hard part. Everything else was easy. I grabbed my jeans and the hoodie I had swiped from Bucky and shoved my feet into hiking boots, literally running after Steve and Tony as they walked towards the elevator.

Steve held the door while I squeezed in next to him and Tony and then we were on our way to the lobby. Tony drove, once we found the car he rented. Steve sat in the passenger seat, checking over all the coms and his gear.

It took almost two hours to arrive at our destination. Once there, the guys readied up, getting into their gear and confirming all of the coms and trackers were operational. Then I had a mile hike into the middle of the woods.

Steve was in my ear the entire hike, telling me more stories to keep me calm. I was alone, in a foreign country, on my way to meet my death.

“Quick question, can I get, like, a Valium for the nerves?” I joked, studying the trees that all looked the same. Tony piped up every now and then to make sure that I was going the right direction or steer me, but otherwise, he stayed quiet. My joke seemed to startle a chuckle out of him.

“Y/N, you’re nearing the clearing. Start hollering.” Tony said quietly.

I took a deep breath and did as I was told, yelling for help, telling some sob story about wanting to know why I was different, more yelling for help, still marching forward.

By the time I stepped into the clearing, there were five men in the middle of it, military grade assault weapons pointed at me, five red laser sighted dots hovering somewhere over my heart.

One of them started shouting at me in another language. When I didn’t reply, he yelled louder, a vein popping out against his forehead. When that didn’t work, another spoke up in broken English. “Speak your name!”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” I called back, hands over my head. I could feel Steve’s shield pressed against my arm and it comforted me knowing that if any of these guys tried to shoot me, I could at least protect myself for a little while.

The men whispered amongst each other for a moment before the weapons were lowered and the leader waved at me, holding his arm out invitingly. I stepped forward, dropping my arms. He led me by my shoulder to a hatch under a thick, sharp bush. Three of the men went down first, then me, then the last two. The hand and foot holds were slightly damp and absolutely freezing under my metal fingers.

“You’re doing great, Y/N,” Steve said almost silently in the ear piece.

We dropped down into a dark, moist tunnel, HYDRA emblems painted on the walls every couple hundred feet.

“Still getting good audio, visual and tracking signals,” Tony whispered.

The halls became twisty and winding as we went deeper underground, finally arriving in a large control room with hundreds of computers and just as many employees manning them. Easy.

The men led me through the control room to an office space, where one man sat behind a desk with four computer monitors on it. The monitors held images of the surrounding area.

“Y/N!” The man said loudly, his words thick with an accent I couldn’t place. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d lost you.” He looked like a heavy set man while seated, but as soon as he stood up, I realized that he was actually just a very tall, very big man. Stocky, despite his height.

“What did you do to me?” I asked, the words slipping from my lips before I could stop myself.

He ran his eyes over me, then nodded to the guards to leave. The door latched behind me and my heart skipped a beat. “I think you already know what we did to you. You’ve spent a good amount of time with the Avengers. Probably sent here to kill me for them.”

“They don’t know who you are. They don’t know I’m here.” I thought my voice sounded smooth, even, sure, but there was a glint in his eye. I think he knew.

“I’m sure you’re right, they don’t know who I am.” He nodded, walking around the desk and circling me, examining me. “Seems like they’ve given you an upgrade.”

“Stark was very generous.” I muttered. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. “I’m just a normal girl. Why did you do this to me?”

The man, I still didn’t know his name, stopped his examination and stood in front of me, a whole head and a half taller. Even with my extra strength, I was sure this man could still crush me like a bug. “Because you were available. You were young. You were grief stricken and unlikely to notice the extras we’d given you.”

“A crime of convenience?”

“You could say that.” He nodded, leaning back to sit against his desk. “And you were pretty. Pretty enough to win the hearts of the Avengers. Plain enough to be invisible in a crowd. Distraught enough to be a loner. You were a wonderful candidate.”

“What about the metal skin and bones?”

“That was just an added bonus!” He said cheerfully. “Both experiments ended up working beautifully, I see!”

“Stark gave me something to solidify my bones. They were like wet cement, he said.” I needed to seem cooperative.

The man nodded, stroking his chin a little. “Seems like they gave you a great many gifts. Enough that any young woman would feel indebted to them.”

“I, uh—” I floundered for a moment, trying to come up with a convincing lie.

“Of course, you’re also romantically involved with our greatest weapon yet, the Winter Soldier.” He rounded his desk again, tapping on his keyboard then turned a monitor to show me. “Him, yes?”

Before me was a CCTV image of Bucky in downtown Chicago, with Natasha.

“We’ve kept tabs on him too.” The man nodded.

“Because I’m like generation two?”

The man nodded again, leaning back in his chair. “Something like that. Remote control. Hidden prosthetics. Much easier to hide in a crowd.”

I chewed my lip, watching Bucky walk down a crowded sidewalk with Nat next to him, their lips moving in a conversation that I couldn’t hear.

“I’ll offer you a deal, Y/N.” The man said. “I will let him live if you work for me.”

“And if I don’t?”

He shrugged. “You both die. Waste of perfectly good parts, if you ask me. But regardless, a promise is a promise.”

I could hear Tony and Steve swearing in the background, then Tony talking on the phone with Nat. Go to ground, go to ground. Get out of there. You’re not safe. Tony’s words echoed through my head.

“I’m gonna need a clean up crew.” I announced. Tony and Steve both shut up and the man in front of me frowned. I slipped the gun Natasha had given me out of my hoodie pocket, the gun she had given me on Bucky and my first date, and fired before the man could even get a word in edgewise. I wasn’t there to listen to him threaten me.

He slumped in his chair and I immediately moved him in front of the door, using him and his chair to hold it shut as I shoved the USB stick into the port on his computer. A black pop up appeared on the screen and then a download bar appeared next to it.

The door started to bulge under the pressure of the men trying to get in.

“Y/N! WHAT THE HELL?” Steve shouted at me through the coms. “Not the plan, not the plan, not the PLAN!”

“Sorry, Steve. I don’t have time for threats.”

“Well, you’re going to have to hold off the entire fucking army down there until we can cut a path through to you.” Tony yelled. I took a deep breath and checked the gun to see how many bullets I still had. I also had Tony’s blasters and Cap’s shield.

And the dead guy, a voice in the back of my head whispered. It happened to be right. Upon searching his pockets, I found another pistol, a revolver with six beautifully unfired rounds.

The door burst open and I blasted the crowd that tried to shove through, men and women in black HYDRA suits with guns all trained on me. I deployed Steve’s shield, using the leader man’s desk to hide behind too as bullets hailed down around me. My hoodie was shredded. Thankfully, that was the worst of the damage done to me.

The pistols ran out fast and very few of the bullets actually made their targets.

Maybe that night at the charity event really was just coincidence, I thought as I blasted the next wave of agents. I grabbed one of their rifles and pulled the trigger, drawing the firing end across the doorway as I prayed. A line of agents fell and my face turned up in a small smile. Spray ‘n’ pray it is.

By the time Tony and Steve got down to me, I had amassed quite the collection of dead bodies. As soon as Steve was in sight, something in me disconnected and I fell to my knees, retching as I looked over all of the bloodshed at my own hand. I screamed when on of the agents grabbed the back of my neck, something sharp pressing into the soft skin at the base of my scalp.

The whirring of my arms started again as I pushed myself back to my feet, my whole body trembling. The coms started squealing loudly in my ear and I threw them off quickly, shrinking away from Steve as he tried to pull me away from the wreckage. Tony walked past and into the office, presumably to find the thumb drive.

“Y/N, it’s all over. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you.” Steve murmured reassuringly, his hands held out as a peace offering. My head twitched a little and my body seemed to go numb, but I kept backing away from him. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

I shook my head, unable to speak. I could feel the warmth of my tears streaking down my face, the trails quickly cooled by the cold air around us.

A massive wave of nausea washed over me and I fell to my knees again, dry heaving. When I stood up that time, I was not in control. I watched myself pick up one of the discarded rifles and aim it right at Steve’s forehead. I’d almost pulled the trigger when something hard smashed against the back of my head.

“Sorry, Y/N, no team kills.” Tony said as my vision faded.

I woke up in the med bay, back in the tower. My hands and ankles were strapped to the bed, another big strap across my abdomen.

Steve was sitting next to my bed, his book almost completed. Today was Elvis.

“I almost shot you.” My voice was hoarse, like I’d been smoking a couple packs a day for the last twenty years. “I’m so sorry.”

He held up a little chip, much like the one that had been attached to my brain. “They tried to use you against us.”

I shuddered a little, thinking back to that base. I thought of all of the dead bodies, people who had fallen because of me. Yes, they were fighting the wrong side of the fight, but still.

“Where’s Bucky?”

Steve shut his book and took a deep breath. “Bucky’s in a weird place right now. He’s happy you’re alive and everything went well, but he…” He paused, looking for the right word.

“Doesn’t want to see me?” I offered.

Air hissed between Steve’s teeth as he tried to find the best way to combat that. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you. I think he’s just nervous that you’re not going to want to see him.”

“Of course I want to see him. Tell him to come down here. Hell, I’ll tell him.” I started to sit up, but Steve pushed me back down.

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

He sighed heavily, so heavy it hurt my heart a little. “We don’t know. He took off after the call from Tony to Natasha and she had to finish the mission alone. We can’t track him, we don’t have eyes on him.”

I stared at Steve for a long time. “You’re his best friend and all, but you’re kind of stupid.” I sighed, getting out of bed before he could stop me. I was dressed and on the street fast, not really caring if Steve got in my way. He tried to yell at me, tell me that Tony and Bruce needed to run more tests to make sure that I was okay and that the chip hadn’t somehow messed me up, but I didn’t care.

I climbed the back of the café, my fingers sinking into the brick the way they used to. When I crested the top of the wall, I was pleasantly surprised to find two camp chairs and a TV tray on top. Bucky sat in one, leaned forward with his elbows braced against his knees.

“Hey, Sargent,” I called, walking forward slowly. He glanced over his shoulder and I saw his back slump a little. “I see you brought your own chair.”

“Got you a new one too.” He grunted, standing up slowly. The way he uncurled from his chair vaguely reminded me of the man, Arnold Schmidt, from the base, and I hesitated for a moment, my heart catching in my throat. “How’d you find me?”

I swallowed my fear and continued forward. “I like to think I have a decent insight into your mind.” He was quiet as I slowly slipped my arms around his waist. “A little too much insight, if you ask me.” I added, resting my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, his nose pressed into my hair.

“Definitely too much insight,” he murmured. “God dammit, doll.” He huffed, finally letting his walls down. “You scared the living hell out of me.”

“I think I scared the living hell out of myself.” I admitted.

“How did you kill all of those agents?”

“It’s kind of hard to die before they’re all dead when you’re indestructible.” I grinned up at him, but even I could see just from my reflection in his eyes that it wasn’t even remotely believable. “I was really scared. They threatened you and something just snapped. I had enough.”

He knotted his fingers in the hair at the back of my head and I quickly stepped back. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“They got you like that,” he held his hands up. “I understand.”

I nodded and sat down in my chair, watching the sun begin to rise over the horizon. “I could never do your job. I’ve seen enough dead bodies for a lifetime.”

“I watched the recordings. They confirmed one hundred and seven total kills in that base. Steve and Tony only accounted for thirty of them.” Bucky told me and bile burned at the back of my throat.

“Never again.” I shook my head, pressing my palms against my temples.

“How about some good news?” He offered. I looked over as he dug around in his pocket. He produced a small velvet hinge box and tossed it at me. I looked at it, and then at him.

“Bucky, you’re not…” I trailed off.

“Open it, doll.”

I did as I was told and a gold key fell out.

“When I ran off, I planned to come back for you. That’s the key to a house out in the ‘burbs.” He shrugged. “Figured it was better than always being stuck in the chaos at the tower. We’d have our own space. And you can still come into town with me for work.”

“And Steve and Tony are okay with this?”

“Does it matter?” He asked, the laugh that followed slightly exasperated. “They do not control our lives. Steve and I fought for the right to not have to answer to someone over every little thing. This is what I want. I thought you would want it too.”

I stood up and hugged him again. “Of course this is what I want, Buck.”

“Good, because I might have already moved you in.”

TAGS LIST: (Let me know if you’d like to be added to future fics!) @libbymouse @veganfangirl5 @hiddles-rose @coffeebeforewater @sonic-lipstick-is-mine @thefridgeismybestie

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jennykworld-blog · 5 years

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Through Benzo Hell

I thought I was going to die. Then I wanted to. When I found out it was a brain injury and that my years of suffering from other health maladies were related; I got mad. Very mad. I had been prescribed a drug that not only changed my personality but had worsened the exact symptoms it prescribed for. If it could not get worse; it most certainly did when I completed a rapid detox from this prescription which was approved by the doctor who prescribed them. It was Hell. I can only briefly account what I went through here but I have written a book that is being edited for publication called Through Benzo Hell.

It started with the use of Ativan (Lorazepam is the generic) as needed after the birth of my daughter. At least I thought it did until I dug deeper. I had severe postpartum depression and was given many drugs to deal with debilitating fatigue, racing anxiety, constant body tremors, muscle aches and inability to care for myself. Seventeen years later after I quit the Benzos; these symptoms raged back to the nth degree and these horrible symptoms were added: imparied cognition, extreme muscle and bone pain, loss of fine motor skills, unable to feel extremities, derealization where everything did not seem to be real life, depersonalization where I felt I was another being trapped in a body, something called air-hunger (if you never had it then be very grateful) and many more mental and physical tortures.

What I finally put together after many months of research and reflecting, was that I was given a sedative during my labor at the hospital that sparked my symptoms when I returned home; which was essentially withdrawals. But the continued use of Ativan as needed over the following years (all while still drinking socially) lead to the INCREASED need for more medication. I did not know any of this was happening nor had I been informed that alcohol essentially kindles the negative effects of the sedative (further down regulates the same GABA receptors). It was when I started my dream career that I worked three (3) years to obtain that I experienced something so profound that I again sought medical help. I was told that the Ativan wasn’t strong enough and that I needed to be on a daily dose of Klonopin. That was over four (4) years ago.

At first this drug was like a miracle. It worked to take away the racing heart, the weak kneed anxiety and body tremors. It even helped with my muscle stiffness! That is not surprising now as I understand that Klonopin (Clonazepam is the generic) is also a muscle relaxant. I can honestly say that I was “good to go” for about five (5) months in which I taught middle school Math, coached the girls soccer team and kept up with my family’s activities. Then life began to openly disintegrate along with my mental and physical health. Memory and tendons were all but failing. My time was divided between being upright to accomplish what I needed to (and enjoying nothing) to laying down to rest. I thought it was the teaching job which proved to be far more demanding than my engineering positions. I thought it was family stress. I thought it was my body aging. I never thought it was the Benzodiazepenes, a class of drugs approved only for short term use (maximum of 2 weeks) prescribed for as many in 1 in 5 people under the names of Xanax (Alprazolam), Ativan (Lorazepam), Klonopin (Clonazepam) and Valium (Diazepam).

I didn’t even know that the drug I was taking was in the same category as Valium! And this is not an uneducated person. I simply trusted my doctor and took this poison for three and half ( 3 ½) years while my life fell apart and I chased the individual symptoms by paying many doctors, rushing to ER visits, having surgery for my Achilles tendon, adding more and more alcohol to deal with the paradoxical effects of using Klonopin long-term. To say that I put my family through Hell as well is probably an understatement in that the raging that I did during this time was completely insane. All of these symptoms and more can be found at a very useful and life-saving site called BenzoBuddies.org. It is stupefying that doctors still prescribe this medication after the thousands of anecdotal evidence found on this website alone. Google Benzo withdrawals and many more YouTude videos and testaments will be easily found. This is not new information. And this problem of epidemic prescribed Benzo use is getting worse, not better.

It was my husband, not a doctor, who finally pulled the plug on this medication induced craziness. I was battling with him daily over the behavior of our son. Our son is a kind, sensitive boy who had obedience issues starting from age two (2). However; his defiance had escalated into school, sports and was affecting our daughter. I thought HE had to go away for residential treatment. My husband said I needed to get off the Benzos. I did not think these two issues were remotely related other than the Klonopin helped me relax for shorter and shorter periods of time as I grew tolerant of the medication (it was less effective over time). But I decided to prove him wrong and went away to a remote location to rapidly detox off the Benzos. My husband checked with my doctor about this decision and it was approved due to the “low dosage” that I was taking.

This was the second most worst mistake of my life (June 4, 2018) ; second to not researching Benzos when prescribed.. But getting off Benzos and healing for the past year has saved my life as well. I was bed ridden for many weeks. I most likely had a seizure while I was alone before my husband came to get me. I then had to move out of my house in order to properly rest leaving my family in what appeared to them as abandonment. As I said, I wrote a book in order to document the process of withdrawals and recovery as it was so painful and the suffering was beyond understandable for anybody who has not been through it. It has been best described as purgatory where I was wanting to die but then was reborn. I am still in the process of healing after almost fourteen (14) months off. But my life is changed now in that I am no longer upset about being limited physically but grateful for each day when I can enjoy physical activity. I am recovering my identity as a happy person, making friendships far deeper than was possible before and reconnecting with my family after being a walking robot for many years. And my son is slowly regaining is emotional regulation after watching me through this process.

What got me through this was support. Once I found BenzoBuddies.org and clearly identified myself as being in withdrawals; I was able to begin healing properly. This included reading about what foods to avoid, what types of stimulation would cause setbacks, being very careful about exercise and learning about mindfulness in that acceptance is the first step to recovery. But I also had a secret weapon that most people don’t have that I am positive accelerated my healing and keeps me on track for healing to this day: my Aunt Allison. She is an Occupational Therapist and loves me very much. After I got out of Acute (a period of time in withdrawals where survival is the only objective); Allison started me on a protocol of mindful activities that rebuild the body and brain connection while using active resting intervals for optimal healing. It was her daily support and coaching that lead me to where I am now.

I am currently completing my certification for being a Health and Life Coach for Benzo Recovery. This training along with my experience will hopefully help others who have already gone down this horrific rabbit hole. But this post is just to make people aware of the poison that Benzos truly are and help recognize the symptoms of Benzo tolerance, the importance of properly tapering off Benzos, and that you can successfully heal. Everybody’s experience is as different as our DNA. Genetics, history of use, kindling affects (where other chemicals contribute to the brain injury) and lifestyle are all factors in this. I am not a doctor. I am a degreed Engineer with a Masters in Education and am committed to coaching others THROUGH Benzo Hell so that they may be healthy.

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myxtina · 5 years

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One Night Chapter 33

Warning: Extreme grief

I woke to Shannon hovering over me. “Baby, wake up.. Are you ok?” “What happened? Shannon, I had this awful dream that Shelby fell in the pool and died.’ “Baby it wasn’t a dream..” He said.. It all came rushing back.. I sat for a min. trying to take it all in.. There was a knock on the door.. It was Constance.. “Sweetie I am so sorry.. I can’t imagine what you are going through..” she said hugging me.. “What am I going to do? Why couldn’t he pay attention.. He always does stupid shit..” I asked her.. “Honey, you know he would never have wanted this to happen.. He loves his children.. You know that..” She said.. I just looked at her.. “Of course you would defend him.. The perfect angel that is Jared..” I hissed at her and got up and walked away.. Shannon hugged Constance and followed.. I went to check on LJ and Mia.. They were eating lunch watching TV.. I just peaked in on them and walked down the hallway.. I got to Jared’s room and I heard voices.. “What the fuck Jared.. How could you let this happen.. She was my daughter too..” Shannon said to him.. “You and Maggie act like I did this on purpose to hurt her.. I am devastated Shannon.. She was my daughter, do you really think I would kill my own child. And she was your niece and step daughter..” Jared said in a loud voice.. “Fuck you Jared.. She was my daughter.. I rocked her to sleep and fed her.. Comforted her when she woke up in the night.. Go to fucking hell.. Nothing is going to get you out of this one Mr. Perfect..” Shannon yelled and stormed out.. “Maggie.. Get the kids we are going home.. Now..” He yelled through the house.. I had never heard Shannon be like this before.. I quickly collected the kids and headed to the car..

We got home and I put the twins down for a nap.. LJ and Mia went to their rooms and just played quietly.. “Do you believe him.. She was my daughter..” Shannon said.. I walked to him and wrapped my arms around him.. “Yes, baby she was your daughter.. And she knew you loved her..” I said.. We spent the rest of the day just sitting in the house.. I went to Shelby’s room and just sat in the rocking chair holding her teddy rocking it.. I didn’t know what to do.. I spent the night in that chair.. Shannon took care of the kids.. The next morning he came in and knelt down.. “Baby we need to think about funeral arrangements..” I just looked at him.. “Shannon, I don’t think I can do it..” I slid onto the floor into his arms.. He just held me.. “Are you sure? I can call Emma and see if maybe she can help.” He said.. “OK.” He called Emma.. He forced me into the shower before she got there.. We were sitting on the couch when she arrived.. “So, I was thinking you could tell me what you want and I will go and take care of everything.. Or you can come with me and we can do this together..” She said.. “I will come with you.. Shannon will you watch the kids.. Stay in the house with them..” I said.. “Of course.. They won’t leave my sight..” he said.. She and I headed out.. Once we arrived I had to force myself to go in.. “Jared told me a couple things he would like..” Emma said.. I looked at her.. “Are you serious.. He has no say.. This is his fault..” I said.. “Maggie, please I am not defending what he did but he is in so much pain..” Emma said.. I took a deep breath.. “OK”

The funeral would be in three days with visitation the day before.. Meaning I had a day to get myself to where I could say goodbye.. I decided the children didn’t need to be there.. So we made arrangements for them to stay with someone. Of course it had gone public about what happened.. And the out pour of sympathy was crazy.. Visitation day came.. I got up and got dressed.. Shannon got dressed.. We sat on the bed before leaving.. “Here I got these and thought maybe it would help..” he held out Valium.. I took one.. He put the rest up.. We arrived and fans where outside everywhere.. Shannon and I got out of the car.. A woman standing next to the door put her hand out to me.. “Maggie I am so sorry for your loss.. I lost a child once.. It is heartbreaking I know and the pain will never go away but you will survive..” she said.. I looked at her.. I could see her pain in her eyes.. “Thank you, I appreciate your kind words..” I said.. “Yes, thank you..” Shannon said as we went in.. We were led into where she was.. “Shannon, I don’t think I can see her like this..” I sobbed.. “You have too, you will regret it if you don’t.. I will walk up with you..” He took my hand and we walked to her tiny casket.. She looked so peaceful and beautiful.. I reached and ran my fingers through her hair.. Shannon wrapped her arm around my waist and ran his finger along her cheek.. I could feel the sobs in his chest against my back.. We stood there forever it seemed like. We heard some one else come in the room.. I felt someone beside me.. I looked over it was Jared..

He didn’t say a word just stood there.. He looked terrible.. He took her hand.. “I am sorry baby.. Daddy let you down.. I am going to miss you so much.. Please forgive daddy..: He turned and walked away.. He went to sit.. My breath was caught in my chest.. Shannon and I went to sit on the other side of the room.. People came and went.. Offering their apologies.. Jared never moved.. He never spoke.. He just sat there.. Finally the day was over.. The next morning I couldn’t get up.. Shannon drug me out of bed.. How was I going to say goodbye.. We arrived.. We were given time alone before the funeral started.. Shannon and I went in first.. I kissed her forehead.. “Goodbye my love.. Remember mommy and daddy Shannon love you.. You will never be forgotten..” I said.. “Goodbye little one.. We will miss you so much.” Shannon said.. We turned to walk away and I saw Jared standing by the door.. I turned back and leaned down to whisper.. “Forgive daddy baby it was a accident.. Mommy will try too.. You know you were daddy’s girl..” Shannon squeezed me.. And we walked away.. Jared just stood by her.. I could not hear what he said.. Eventually the funeral started.. It was hard.. Something I never want to go through again.. We moved to grave side.. We sat there and the minister said the final words.. Everyone walked by with kind words and flowers for the grave.. It was down to me, Shannon, Constance and Jared..

Constance said her goodbye.. Shannon said his.. I stood there for a moment thinking this was it.. My little girl who was afraid of the dark would be lowered in the ground once we left.. Tears flowing down my cheeks.. I kissed my hand and put it on top of her casket and walked away.. Jared just stood here.. Purple rose in his hand.. Her favorite color.. Only he gave her this colored rose.. That was one of his requests.. I could tell by his shoulders he was sobbing.. We stood back and everyone else left.. To Jared’s for after.. The reporters were kind enough to stay away.. I sensed movement and watched as Jared fell to his knees.. He chest laying over her casket.. “Take me, take me.. God take me.. Please..” he was saying.. I watched him for a moment and I felt some of my hatred melt away.. I was still upset of course but my heart started breaking for him as well.. I pulled away from Shannon and walked to Jared.. I fell to my knees beside him and ran my fingers through his hair.. He raised up and looked at me..”What are we going to do?” he asked weakly.. “I don’t know” I said.. I slipped my arm around his waist.. and laid my head on his shoulder.. He laid his head on mine and we just stayed there a bit.. After a while I pulled away and stood up.. I offered him my hand and he took it and stood as well.. He put the purple rose to his lips and laid it down.. Hand in hand we turned towards Shannon and Constance.. When I got to Shannon I pulled away from Jared.. he went to his mom and we walked to the car..

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thedanksideofthemoon · 7 years

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Tomorrow, I will be 3 years sober. Even though my addiction to intravenous heroin was definitely the most problematic, it has always been something with me. It started off with Xanax and K-pins, then to that mixture I added adderall, vicodin and valium and lorezepam, then as I began to experiment with drugs I realized that anti depressants/anti anxiety medication wasn’t my favorite anymore. I started my opiate addiction with 5mg percs, then I began snorting them and upped my dose little by little. Then I went to college and began smoking 30′s and popping xanax and adderall on the regular. Then I revisited an old friend of mine, heroin. I had tried it in high school a few times, and it gave me such a good feeling I was afraid to use it again. I had only snorted it in high school and when I began using it again in college I promised myself I would only snort it (or sometimes smoke it) and that I would NEVER shoot it… But then smoking three 30′s made me feel only a little bit okay, and snorting a couple bags only barely took the pain away.. then I shot it once just to try it and then...well, to this day I am still trying to pick up the pieces of my life and put them back together. I screwed up my entire freshman year of college, lost all of my ambition, almost died twice, lost 50 pounds, turned into a zombie... I lost all of my feelings for people who cared about me, I stopped eating because everything I ate would end up getting thrown up anyway. Heroin put me in so many bad situations too. I've been robbed numerous times, sometimes by people I thought were my “friends”. I've had a gun pulled on me, my house and car broken into... then I started becoming shady myself.

To keep up with my habits I had to middleman dope and I would upcharge junkies that I knew would pay the price. I helped my dealer rob another dealer; we stole 10 bricks and I accepted only 2 and a half bricks for helping, which is still a lot of dope but I did most of the work and settling for less than half was okay to me. That's not right? I didn’t even think twice about it. Once I got my cut I sold about 2 grams and the rest went into my veins eventually. I held onto my stash like it was my prized possession. I kept that much heroin in my dorm room. What the fuck was I thinking??? Then a week before the end of the semester I realized that I had to go home and see my family and I looked in the mirror and just started bawling because I knew they would know… I mean how could they not? I was pale as a ghost, had the biggest dark circles, my arms were COVERED in track marks and they’re still not healed, I was weak, skinny, my hair had become thin, I just looked like I had no life left in me. When I first tried heroin I thought I was going to do it on the side just to keep myself happy and comfortable. And for a while I did, I somehow kept a balance, but without even realizing it, I let myself go. I drowned in my sorrows and let my lack of self esteem take me away and I became the one thing I said I never would be.

Addiction is real. It's not something anyone wishes for or tries to acquire. It can sneak up on you and before you realize it has you, you’ll have no money, no good people left in your life, and you’ll NEVER notice how much you changed as a person. I was okay with giving up my potential and dreams to escape through a temporary buzz. Growing up I had always surrounded myself with the wrong people and usually it would bite me in the ass and I would learn my lesson, but damn I was convinced that heroin was my best friend. I mean when I met heroin it was love at first sight. When it almost killed me, I woke up and shot another couple bags….

Thinking about it now I can’t believe it. My daily life was: wake up, snort a couple bags, go to class, eat a snack, shoot in the bathroom before my next class (if i didn’t have enough I would skip and go out and get more), throw up (usually happened randomly throughout the day), go to class and nod out and embarrass myself because I looked like such a junkie sitting there barely conscious, do a bit of homework, make moves to score some dope, shoot up my first big score, go to my dealers house (she wanted to fuck me so she usually gave me a couple bags for free), shoot that and chill for a bit, smoke some weed, maybe pop a xanax bar, go on rides with my dealer and all along the way snort bags off the back of my phone, eat something, throw that up, stumble to my friend’s house where me and my 2 “best friends” would spend our time smoking stupid amounts of weed, smoking 30′s, shooting smoking and snorting dope, and from there I would middleman more dope for my dealer and I would just shoot my profits all night and then eventually pass out just to wake up the next day and start all over.

I lost all common sense. This junkie lifestyle became normal to me. It became all I knew and all I wanted. I cut out friends that were actually positive and had their shit together. Then I would cry and wonder why I was so lonely. By doing drugs, I only made myself physically feel better but only temporarily and I spent the rest of my time either thinking about drugs or I was trying to get more drugs. Drugs never fixed any of my problems like I thought they did. I thought I was “self medicating”. I thought I was helping myself. All I did was make my life worse and almost killed myself.

The thing about being high all the time, with your main priority also fixated on getting your fix, you think life is okay. Drugs create this lens that distorts life and blocks worries, which means your life can fall apart right in front of your eyes but you can’t feel it, you can’t see it. You’re high and for that moment you are sucking in all the artificial happiness. The problem is when you inevitably come down, you see your life clearly for a minute and everything slams you at once, what you’ve lost, what you could’ve had. It is the tallest mountain to climb to undo what you have done, a lot of people try and try to climb it, but many fall back into an ever deeper bottom.

I'm 3 years sober but I’m still an addict. You never stop being an addict. I’m trying to fix myself. You're not magically cured and your problems just don't go away once you quit drugs, but you can face them with a clear mind. I still get depressed, my anxiety still kinda runs my life, but I'm not medicating with the old destructive habits. I'm not using drugs as a crutch anymore. I went back to school, earned my degree, and still managed to get into medical school. Things can change, but it takes more than just quitting drugs. You have to want it, with all of your being and then some. Sobriety is only the first step.

#sobriety #drug addiction #heroin #personal #recovery

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elizabethcariasa · 4 years

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Failed IVF Frozen Embryo Transfer

If you want to know if I am alright. I am not. You don’t think it’s possible to have your heart broken as many times as you do going through IVF. It breaks into a million pieces and slowly, you piece them back together just in time for your heart to shatter again. I am still picking up those pieces today. I recently shared that my Embryo Transfer got cancelled because of Covid-19 and was patiently waiting for my fertility clinic to open back up. When I finally got the call that they were opening, I scheduled to start treatment ASAP. I quietly prepped the whole last month and a half for a Frozen Embryo Transfer on June 8th. After the most excruciating 10 day wait, it’s with a heavy heart that I tell you our transfer didn’t work. Not pregnant. Let me rewind to give you a little insight into this FET cycle.

Frozen Embryo Transfer Prep

The process was relatively easy considering I had just completed the majority of it with my cancelled FET cycle. I knew what to expect. I was in the groove. I had my eye on the prize. I think the scariest moment of prep is always the day I start progesterone injections. That scary long needle that gets injected into your butt. But like anything, after “pulling off the bandaid” and just getting through the first night, it all just becomes part of your routine again. I will say the injections aren’t even that bad compared to how your butt starts to feel after a few days. I remember telling Blake it’s like I have two bruises on my butt the size of tennis balls. Sitting is uncomfortable. I was doing them once in the morning and once at night. But regardless of any unpleasantness, you grit through because that precious progesterone is for your baby. So it’s all worth it. Once I started the progesterone, we were locked into a embryo transfer date. It was on.

Embryo Transfer Day

Given the state of the world, our transfer looked alot different this time. While Blake was allowed to come with me to the procedure, he could not because he had to be in the car with Otis since we are still fully quarantined at home. Since I have been doing my medical treatments, it was important to me and our family that we continue to be as safe as possible to protect my health as well as that of Blake and Otis. Since we are without childcare help and we aren’t having contact with anyone to watch Otis, he had to support me from the car instead of in the room. I am so lucky to have gone through a transfer experience before in normal times so I could at least know what to expect. I can’t imagine other woman having to go through this process alone. It weighs heavy on me thinking how hard the process can be for everyone.

Blake gave me a kiss, I kissed Otis on the forehead and I headed into the facility. I wore a mask, had my temperature checked, and answered a slew of questions pertaining to Covid-19. Besides the obvious precautions, everything was just as I remember. I met with my embryologist who went over my info, talked to me about my embryo and got everything set up to go. My doctor came in and I was able to ask to video in Blake during the procedure. But of course, with Blake watching a wild toddler in a car seat that didn’t want to be in his car seat, he had to mute his own audio and he ended up not really knowing what was happening as I tried to communicate with him, wearing my mask and giving hand signals. I think in a way, But, regardless we did our best to create our own sense of normal. I had my music playing and just like that, we were done. It’s a super quick procedure and after I lay down for 30 minutes before I am allowed to go home. It’s also to note, they give me valium before so I am SUPER relaxed but do need to be driven home because of it. We drove home and I got ready for my 3 days of bedrest. I queued up my favorite rom coms, wore my coziest pajamas, and had more time to myself than I remember in a long time.

The hardest part about the bed rest was not really being able to hang out with Otis. I missed him terribly. My little buddy

We tried to have him come into bed when he was in a relaxed mood or it was time for his milk before bed and a lot of time, it would be a little complicated because he’s a toddler that wants to be on the move and I need to be very careful and not have any pressure on my stomach. That was the toughest thing. Not getting many cuddles and hang time with Otis. But luckily he had a great time with Dad and I cherished the time I did get to spend with him.

2 Week Wait

I thought the 2 week wait (or 2WW) would be easier this time around because I have been through it twice before so I should basically be an expert. WRONG. There is so much PTSD when it comes to infertility and IVF treatment. I feel the 2WW was even worse this time around. Day 2 I was already off to doctor google looking up implantation signs, symptoms, you name it. I knew it was bad. I knew I shouldn’t read, but damn guys. You ALWAYS READ IT. The first couple days were rough. Especially with the state of the world, I tried to disconnect myself from all social media as much as I could but it was also a time I could NOT look away. I think in hindsight I blame myself… maybe I should have truly disconnected more. Maybe I caused myself stress when I should have been more positive and focused on myself. Once I got to day 6, I started feeling better about being closer to blood test day. I was leaning into the “I’m pregnant” mentality and doing my best to be as positive as possible. Fast forward to the night before my blood work. I have not been that anxious in a LONG time. I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned all night. I had a million things going on in my mind. Blake was trying to get me to take an at home pregnancy test from day 7 but I held out. I didn’t want to torture myself with any false positive or false negative results. I was going to hold on until blood work day.

Blood Work Day

I tossed and turned all night before my blood work. My eyes were awake scrolling my phone before my alarm went off at 6am to get up, shower and head to the doctors office for my blood work. Anxious. Nervous. Excited. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup to save my morning pee to test it with an HPT (at home pregnancy test), did my business, and showered to get ready. It was a misty June morning, softly raining and eerily quiet drive. A huge pit in my stomach. I did my quick blood drawl and I was back in the car on the way home.

Luckily it was Thursday, TRASH DAY, so I could distract myself with chasing trucks with Otis. Before I left on my routine walk, I had Blake go in and do my pregnancy tests with my saved urine. Did I tell you how much I love Blake and how he is the freaking best partner in the world? The idea of doing a HPT and seeing a negative result would destroy me so Blake was on duty. My last successful FET (which I wrote about here) I did a HPT after my phone call with the nurse to find out it was positive. My hopes were high. Until Blake came out, “All 3 are negative.” I could see it all over his face. The look I have seen before. Devastation. My heart sunk. But then just like that, I had to bring Otis to go see the trash trucks. Going through fertility treatment with a toddler is a very different experience. Less time to process. More distraction. Just different. We talked as I strapped Otis into his blue car that I pushed him out for our walks. “I’m going to pray that my beta comes back positive. Maybe it’s too early for my home test. There is still a chance.”

I left for my walk, where I always meet my friend down the block to take a socially distanced walk with our toddlers. With every step I took, it became alarming clear that, fuck. This might not have worked. I continued on with our convos focused on Otis and our kids and just hoped that she wouldn’t bring up whether I went in for my blood work. I could feel the tears just creeping up in my throat. It was my most heart wrenching trash day. A day I always look forward to. Now riddled with worry. It’s a blessing sharing our process with friends and loved ones, but when things are bad… they become epically worse when you need to report bad news. Thankfully our convos were light and I headed home. To continue to wait.

Since the negative HPT, the knot in my throat, and the tears just swelled but never poured out. I needed to know the truth and wait for the blood work results. But Blake and I had pretty much come to the realization that… this didn’t work. And here we were again. HOW DID WE GET HERE. I sat at my desk sitting next to Blake. I was NOT going to answer my phone. I knew I would break down and Blake needed to be the one to field the call from our doctor. I felt like throwing up. The wait was excruciating.

The Phone Call

My phone rang and Blake picked up. I could hear my doctor’s voice and instantly knew… it was bad news. Our hearts were broken. She explained that she was so sorry to have to share this news with us. And that I didn’t even have a bio chemical pregnancy, it was nothing. I am thankful for that at home pregnancy test. To be able to diffuse our initial shock, and make me more lucid for that phone call than I would have been going in blind. It’s the unfortunate thing about IVF. While it’s this wildly incredible beautiful thing, it’s not 100%. Nothing is. Everything was perfect. My lining was AMAZING and probably the thickest it’s been at transfer at a 9.2. Everything went perfectly. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. After 10 days going to sleep staring at my photo of my embryo and the ultrasound showing the transfer, our precious embaby was gone.

Processing Our loss

I was pretty open with family and close friends, and some of my fellow fertility warriors about our FET. The joy that comes along with sharing my experience and being able to connect with people during such a hard time also turns extra hard when you are left fielding texts from people who know you had a transfer wanting to know what happened. I talked about how to support a friend dealing with infertility and IVF and I think the hardest thing is that people just truly want to support you and don’t know the pain that comes behind some of their interactions. While innocent, those convos are still a bitter pill to swallow when you are dealing with mourning a loss. There is no perfect way to reach out. But let me tell you… those conversations were many. I basically had to go through my head and think about who I told and who I wanted to cut off from sending me that inquisitive message. I just couldn’t take that. I texted a lot of my friends my bad news, and politely let them know I did not want to talk about it. But to be honest, today is Tuesday, nearly 6 days later, I am still fielding texts or dms from friends who are checking in. In those first few days… it was unbearable. And I will be the first to say, I know all of these messages from friends come out of love. I know that. So if anyone reading this is feeling awful for reaching out to me, please don’t. I sincerely appreciate every message, everyone checking in. Because in the end, it’s more important you be there imperfectly than not at all. I think that in the current state of the world, that statement holds true in so many ways. I think that next time around, we will tell way less people because the repercussions of having to live through this experience of failure is more easily mourned without having to do damage control for my own sanity. If that makes sense? Damn infertility is fucking hard guys. Really fucking hard. And when you are down, you are really down. I knew I was committed in sharing our story with you all but it doesn’t make it easier sharing these huge dark times in such an open forum. But I do this because it’s important to see all sides of this journey. The good, the bad and the ugly.

I blamed myself a lot. Wondering if it was my fault for not creating a positive enough environment for my embryo. Was the state of the world creating more stress and worry and keeping me from being the warm receptive place for new life? I think it’s hard as a woman going through this process. You blame your body. You blame yourself for the things you just aren’t able to do. Those moments are hard. The fact that while people everywhere around you are seemingly sneezing and getting pregnant. Without a fleeting thought about it other than they were ready to start their families. The joy it must be to be blissfully unaware of these struggles… but sadly that will never be me. My path has been much different. The pressure you put on yourself. That strain is unfair. You have to remind yourself that you did the best you could to create a loving welcome environment and there is so much out of our control. But the guilt is always there.

One of the hardest things after finding out I was not pregnant was not being able to mourn properly. What i mean by this, is that being a mother of a toddler, I can’t just drop my role as a mother just to mourn our loss. Motherhood goes on, and in this pandemic world, we are still just Blake, Otis and I. I can’t just stop to be sad, and cry my eyes out. I have a tiny person to love and care for and the last thing I want is for my sadness to make him sad. 3 days after the news, I was sitting eating breakfast with Otis in the kitchen and I started hysterically crying. Hand up to my face as the tears streamed down. I didn’t want Otis to look me in the eyes and see the pain. Otis put his tiny hand on my arm and with the saddest whimper in his voice, I could just feel how confused and concerned he was that I was so sad. I wiped my tears on my shirt and wrapped my arms around him. “Mommy is going to be ok Otis.” I think that has been the strangest part of my mourning process is that you don’t just get a break from motherhood when things get tough. So it’s been a much different process altogether. I know everyone experiences these things different and we don’t have to be so strong all the time. I read something recently and it resonated so much. You don’t need strength. You need courage. Courage to keep fighting. Courage to be vulnerable. Courage to grow. And courage to look a sad situation in the eye and see the hope behind it. You never forget these losses. I still think often about our first embryo transfer that failed. It’s something that you live with. And something you hold in your heart forever.

So what is next for us? I will tell you what, WE KEEP FIGHTING. I am so thankful to say we have 2 precious embryos left. We fought hard for those precious embabies and when the time is right to try again, we will try again. Blake and I are both committed to not forgetting our past or what we have been through, but to fully put our hope and love into our next chance. To see Otis’ face everyday this past week (and really everyday) is a constant reminder of the beautiful miracle of IVF, what comes from never giving up, and just how sweet life has become with him in it. To all of my fellow IVF ladies (and partners) out there, I know just how dark some of these days may be, but please don’t give up. Otis has changed our lives forever. My biggest joy is being his mother. And each moment in the day is made better because of him. I know this fight seems isolating, especially in this pandemic world, but you are not alone. There is an army of women behind you just like me. While my heart is still picking up the piece, it’s here with you. Still filled with hope. To our future family, I will be patiently waiting for you.

I wrote a few posts on infertility and IVF and you can find them below:

IVF 1

IVF 2

IVF 3

Prepping for FET (frozen embryo transfer)

Preparing for IVF egg retrieval

How to support a friend going through IVF

IVF book resources

Photo taken by my dear friend Alison Conklin a few months ago

The post Failed IVF Frozen Embryo Transfer appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Lapides.

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kurtwarren54 · 4 years

Text

Failed IVF Frozen Embryo Transfer

Frozen Embryo Transfer Prep

Embryo Transfer Day

The hardest part about the bed rest was not really being able to hang out with Otis. I missed him terribly. My little buddy

2 Week Wait

Blood Work Day

The Phone Call

Processing Our loss

I wrote a few posts on infertility and IVF and you can find them below:

IVF 1

IVF 2

IVF 3

Prepping for FET (frozen embryo transfer)

Preparing for IVF egg retrieval

How to support a friend going through IVF

IVF book resources

Photo taken by my dear friend Alison Conklin a few months ago

The post Failed IVF Frozen Embryo Transfer appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Lapides.

from Wellness https://www.eatsleepwear.com/2020/06/24/failed-ivf-frozen-embryo-transfer/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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myjadecoloredglasses · 4 years

Text

Ancestral

When I was a young girl. 9 or 10 years old. I felt this hole in the center of my body. Somewhere between my chest and my stomach, and large. It felt round, ovular. I would say “I can feel wind blowing through it.” It felt cold and lovely. I never liked the cold, I have a strong distaste for winter and moved to Los Angeles from Seattle, specifically to live in a place where it’s warmer all year round. I prefer to look at snow and not play in it.

7 days ago today he told me in somber tones that he would not come around anymore. We would speak no longer. He wasn’t sure how he felt but love was a large enough word that he didn’t want to stand under it’s shadow and feel unsure if it would exist ever between us more then in one direction.

Two days prior I confronted him on his distancing. It was obvious and I am generally one to call out the weirdness rather then let it fester. My body is sensitive and gets wobbly when there is incongruent stories being played out.

That night I called my brother. I had just been put on romantic probation and of course that all spilled out of me as soon as he answered. He and I have finally found our connection. It took us 23 years. He is day and I am night. Sun and moon. Loud and quiet. I’ve always love him but not always loved the way he acted. My brother is stronger then I am in facing our father. He always has had the ability to rip the bandaid off and be honest. Whereas I am always trying to offer solutions rather then blunt honesty. He told me dad was saying that he had been stabbed and was at Harborview Hospital recovering. But there was a whole story around him manipulating my brother and money and it was all hard to trust. For the first time in years that hole opened back up. I felt sick and hollow but there was a churning toxicity to the air blowing through me. Not a new feeling but one I can done well eradicating from my life.

Sunday the communication probation was lifted and I was set to spin in the wind. Arms open and flailing, heart extended through valves stretched from the velocity of the spin. With a tiny cuts next to a gash, all of which spraying blood to the rotation. I lost myself in the blood loss. Dreamt I had a miscarriage, blood everywhere, lower back aching and waking me throughout the night. My father had given me this feeling exacerbation many times. It was a waltz we clumsily and as if it was studied mercilessly danced together since I can remember.

Two years ago, in the flea house. Yes it was as bad as it sounds. I was getting into shaman vision walks. My family was practicing more and more tools of self awareness and it was filtering through to me, and I had general intrigue and it came very easily. At that time I was 5 years into emotional awareness discovery and trying meditation and journeys at home to places within myself I had created and anchored previously.

I was wandering into my garden. It is at the center of the earth, where there is an open space with the heat and light of the core of my planet, it always looks like sunset. I am about 30 ft inland from a vast stretched body of water. I haven’t gotten into it yet. There are tropical plants and trees that surround and stand between the water, beach and a large stone tiled platform. At the center and to the back there is a throne. Everything is earth tones, brown and red and tan and golden. There are pillars holding together an upper border to the platform. Like a triangular but squared off opening. If sitting or standing below this border and looking up, you can see solar systems and expansive space. I meet the goddesses here.

Two years ago, hanging out in my garden I met my father and wanted to try to heal the wound between us. I was working to pull what looked like black tar out of me. It was coming out through my back between my 3rd and 4th chakra. It started to cling to me internally and I became frightened and realized it was an entity, there was life to it. I got very scared and jumped out of the scene. My heart rate lifted and me having to not step on that exact space in that tiny room for a few weeks. I didn’t tell anyone about it cause I felt kinda nuts and was also honestly scared. My father’s side of the family, somewhat my mother’s too has very high functioning toxicity patterning. I didn’t know what I was messing with and knew for sure I didn’t trust I knew how to properly deal with it.

Fast forward back to last week. There is a global virus called COVID-19 or more popularly the “Coronavirus” which has much of the world quarantined and panicking. Stock markets on rollercoasters, the two month tour I was just going to go on got cancelled 3 days into rehearsal along with every other large gathering operation, national/international sports events, shows, meetings, etc. Unprecedented for our recent history and culture we are used to functioning in.

Basically going into last week I’m fried and frightened and squashed energetically. Speaking with my parents (mother and bonus father) daily, as they helped me climb out of my blind sided muddied water spinning dunk tank to gather my strength and find myself again. In the midst of this climb I opened up about this black thing that had been clinging to my back for two years. Like a tick blocking my full access to the divine and clinging to my inner light, wrapped through my organs and intestines. They recommended I paint it. I like to dabble in watercolor painting. Some things I’m proud of and some things I throw away but I can definitely use it to express abstract ideas and visions. We made plans to have a guided meditation one week later to extract the entity and release it.

Over the next week my mother and I communicated almost daily. The quarantine was spreading throughout the united states, and our cities (Los Angeles and Seattle) were two locations with larger outbreaks occurring. She told me that in her dreams and in her morning meditation she had been fighting this entity with myself, Gaia and Jesus. What follows are her experiences:

“This morning's journey was brief. And definitely felt like part 1. You and I stepped they a portal into a sacred garden and then went down into a beautiful meadow where there was a well and it felt like we were in Ireland or Scotland... The land of our ancestors... Could've been Italy, idk but looked more like Ireland. There was an altar at the well and you put a lock of your hair on the altar and then we went to the well and we both cried and cried into the well water and then we began to drink the well water knowing it had been transformed. We poured our suffering into that well and we trusted the healing process. Then we began to drink the water and the feeling was one of total renewal. I could feel it in every cell of my body. And I had a strong sense that you felt that same way. Then I had a clear impression to move away from the well and look for a body of water that we could get in.“

DREAM: “I'm walking through a crowd of people and realize I'm not wearing a top.. naked from the waist up. I immediately exit to find something to put on and must pass everyone in the huge room to get out of there. I enter an apartment and I'm just so overwhelmed that I take what I think is a couple of valium but realize that my mouth is full of them. I get scared of overdosing/dying. I want to spit them out but can't at the moment... I'm embarrassed and don't want others to know what I've done. I have to wait to get to a place where I can spit them out. Meanwhile they're dissolving in my mouth. Finally I spit them out. I go into a meeting but we're all unprepared. The coffee maker is broken. Everything is going wrong. I really want coffee to help me wake up/be more alert. Then the business people disappear... and paranormal activity starts up. What appears to be a super heavy dense huge black bowling ball comes flying out of a kitchen cupboard. I'm really scared... this is potentially very dangerous. It keeps flying around the room. Standing in the light of the kitchen window, I begin to exorcise this demon. Calling on the ascended masters and angels of the highest order to intervene and get this thing out. I banish it repeatedly and at the top of my lungs. It does not leave but begins to deflate, becoming less and less powerful. Eventually I'm in a biplane or something, along with several children and we're flying away from the building in a somewhat precarious flying machine... but we are getting away. This dream has elements that are clearly connected to your situation and feelings. You've been talking about this black void (which now has tentacles) inside of you for many years. We will journey together and finish disentangling this dark energy from you. I love you, Mama “

“I met you in the bubble/globe. The black octopus entity was attached to your back. I found a very large needle in my hand that contained fire. I poked it into the center of the entity. It's tentacles immediately began to release from you in the shock and agony of being on fire... it began to peel away. Gaia and Christ were there standing behind us. She handed me some herbs. I knew they were poisonous to the entity... like strychnine and hemlock came to mind. As the entity detached, I poured these herbs on it rendering it lifeless. Then I picked it up off the ground with a stick and placed it in the bowl of water the two deities were holding. It was holy water that magically transformed/dissolved what was left of the entity. Then Gaia watered her plants with it, what was now transformed to nourish the plants we'd used to remove it from you. Then I turned my attention back to you and your angel was there ready to assist in your healing. The angel (couldn't tell if male or female) began to blow the divine breath of God into your back, breathing healing, renewal and light into you, moving up and down your spine/chakras. Then I saw you on a beach, doing yoga, walking the beach with a loved one. Happy.”

During this time, usually before speaking to my mother or receiving her correspondence I noticed entity peeling off, like a scab. First the upper left corner, near my heart. The before the week was over it had fallen about halfway off. At this point I could see there was a thick long tentacle at the center that had burrowed into my being. I couldn’t tell how far in or to where exactly but I knew it was coiled and knotted somewhere deep in me.

Sunday arrived. My parents and I had made arrangements to meet at 1pm. My mother advices me to: “If possible have 4 items on your altar to represent the elements... Earth (Crystal, earth, sand, an herb), Fire (candle) Air (feather, bird painting) Water (small cup of water, Sea shell).”

I created a circle of stones and rose petals around my bed in a large enough pattern for myself to lay within. Candles north, seashells west, feathers east, a stone shaped like a heart and a painted on piece of driftwood south. My head laying due north, to my right the ocean, to my left the sunrise, at my feet goddess light, warmth and peace.

My mother was laying with me in spirit in Seattle and my bonus father lead:

I was nowhere. It was creamy pink lit and hazy. My mother and step father with me. As we called in my brother he arrived. My father was invited and was there but at one point later in the inviting wanted to take over and was emotionally quarantined, to observe and heal and not partake in any aspect beyond that. We called in the archetypes of the four directions and they lovingly created a square around our triangle. Then in came my community, ancestors, energies of love and joy and support gathered in a circular fashion around us, hundreds or thousands strong. I’ve never been good at averages in numbers of people haha. Here we breathed and supported each other in accessing all that is good, clean and strong.

I’m walking a forest path. There is a wide root separation at the base of a tree in front of me and off to the right a bit. The space is an opening wide enough to crawl into. It is dark, there is no light, I continue to crawl not really afraid, I trust where I’m going. I start to see a glow, I’m nearing my sanctuary, the path starts to lengthen and widen and I am able to stand. I come to a threshold on the other side of which is my garden. I call in the archetypes, the goddesses they line up in front of me. Artemis is asked to leave her weapons at the door and she does, placing them on the earth just outside the threshold. Quan Yin enters first and sits on the thrown as the other goddesses enter. White Buffalo Calf Woman bows and weeps at her feet. Artemis and Babayaga stand silent, soft and supportive. Quan Yin walks to me and stands about two feet away. The entity relaxes and falls off, tentacles lax and lifeless. The center tentacle is still within me but unraveling and slowly falling out, getting thinner with every foot length that falls out. Quan Yin picks it up and hold it like a baby. It turns gold in her arms and for a moment looks like a young child. Like a baby, and the word innocence crossed my mind. We are still connected by that final tentacle which I’ve realized is wrapped all throughout my intestines. It finally comes all the way out and drops tired to the floor. Quan Yin continues to hold it like a baby, looking to it with love and admiration, giving it an aura of purple and green. She stands tall and releases it up through the pillar ceiling boarder into the universe and it flies into space where it is reconnected to it’s own kind. It’s community and family. The goddesses each take a turn putting their hands on me. First Quan Yin with her golden light and warm hands. Then Artemis. Then Babayaga. Babayaga stuck her hands into me. Into my back where the center chords was and into my stomach, where it had been knotted and tied around my intestines. With open palms she shook her hands left to right and then folded them in a light grip. She did this for a while and it made me uncomfortable, now thinking back it was almost a washing motion, like cleaning out a rag.. kind of. In her grumpy way she completed and stepped to the side and White Buffalo Calf Woman placed her hands on my back and on my stomach where babayaga had just been and emanated a pure white healing light into me. She walked me over to a clawfoot tub and helped me into it. All the goddesses put their hands in the water and their respective colors sparkled out and filled the bath with color. It was then time to leave. Crawled back up through the earth and into the light. Danced in the day with the forest and mother earth and then got ear attacked by the insanely loud chime by bonus dad played ;) hahah

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aquarianlights · 6 years

Text

When I don’t take my ambien to sleep, I get so much done in the 6-8 days I’m awake. Somehow, not taking it makes me super productive. Albeit, I’m awake until my body and mind physically shut down and I black out (generally 6-8 days), it still feels better to not take it and get a fuckton of stuff done nonstop and then have a small period of crashing before waking up and starting again.

(On my off days where I have nothing to do and roommates are all busy.)

Like. . .staying awake until the coffee shop opens at 6am, walking there around 6am, getting some coffee, studying medical school stuff for a few hours there give or take, walking home and making any stops for things we need in the house, making important phone calls while walking while I’m away from all the major car noise, coming home, having a fucking 4-6 hour hyper-cleaning session where I clean nonstop until every single centimeter and corner of one room is spotless and sparkling and organized while talking to roommates or friends who happened to find me at the coffee shop we all go to, doing all the laundry between cleaning, making out lists of things I need to do and setting all these alarms to do them, doing about an hour of schoolwork, break to clean and organize small bits and binge some Star Trek while doing so, going back to schoolwork and alternating between that and cleaning until I get physically and mentally exhausted enough to just lay down and play MMO’s usually around 10:30pm. . .then start all of this over again at like midnight. . .try to lay down and just do something monotonous like update my iPod or something around 3am. . .until about 6am comes and repeat.

The second I take an ambien, I can’t fucking do anything for like. . . a full 24 hours or more. But I can’t sleep without any powerful sleep aid. I never have been able to since I was little. I mean, I took 2 full strength Ambien’s last night (20mg total) and got about a solid 5 hours. That’s a really good night for me.

Idk how tf I became productive af today after taking 2 Ambien, but. . .I did. Holy fuck, my friend found me at the coffee shop, was getting coffee for one of my roommates, we walked to my house together, and then I just started hyper-cleaning after waking another roommate up who has trouble waking up. And talking to her in bed for like 30 minutes about important stuff to make her think to wake her up gradually. Went back to friend and other roommate...passed into kitchen...went into hyper-clean mode, roommate and friend just...kinda joined in. Put on Christmas music (trans-siberian orchestra, ofc) and I LEARNED A THING. I LEARNED YOU CAN POP THE TOP OFF OF AN ELECTRIC STOVE! Woah. That was a trippy experience.

But...man...it’s almost 5pm now. And I’ve now taken all my roommates to work, studied a bunch, got a fuckton of cleaning and general organization done, made lists of goals I need to accomplish and by when, inventoried what we need in the house and what I personally need, am about to get started on some homework coz I still have over 10 pages worth of medical terms to turn into physical note cards. . .will probs go clean more later. . .maybe go back to coffee shop to refuel.

I notice I’m a FUCKTON more productive when I’m not doing any drugs. . .like, holy shit. I normally take about 6 valium at a time. Or 5-6 pain killers at a time. Sometimes both at the same time. And I function very well like that. But. . .it seems like I’m a fuckton more productive OFF all addictive substances, including Ambien, and I get a neurotypical-workload done every day if I don’t take anything or take the bare minimum.

In one year, on this day, I will be so close to neurotypical that no one will be able to tell I’m neurodivergent unless they live with me or am with me frequently. Not a soul will be able to fucking tell. That is my goal. . .to condition my brain to form new pathways by forcing myself to do all the neurotypical every-day chores I do not want to do. . .every. single. day. And if I do that for at least 90% of one year. . .my brain should form new pathways that make me feel as though I have the chemicals of a neurotypical person. Albeit, I will still take my psych meds coz they give me a small dose of those chemicals I don’t have and it would be illogical to stop them. . .I’m still gonna rewire my brain on my own.

If I’m gonna be a surgical resident, I need to step up my game. Coz the only thing stopping me from achieving that goal is myself. . .my motivation and energy problems. That is the only thing standing in my way at this point. So, fuck me, I’m gonna make myself as close to neurotypical as possible within a year.

I will do what I have been doing: Crying and feeling like I need to kill myself or hurt myself, pulling my hair out, clawing at myself, biting myself up, etc etc. . .for 30 minutes. I allow myself to feel like that for 30 minutes. Albeit that feeling never goes away, I get up and force myself to do the things even if every single fiber of my physical and mental being is trying to force me not to. . .and I get up and do what I need to. And by doing that. . .eventually it’s going to rewire my brain. It’ll take a damn long time. . .but it’ll be fucking worth it.

#personal

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 53

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

“Hey,” Kyle greets his sister, as she steps out onto the back deck. “Sleeping beauty! How you feeling?”

“I'm not sure yet,” she admits, using the hand without the IV in to rub sleep from her eyes. “I've got a hell of a headache. But I'm not nauseous for the first time in forever and the dizziness is gone.”

“Headache's probably from the concussion. That's pretty normal. Sounds like the medication he gave you for the puking and the fainting is working so far.”

“I'm getting tired of this goddamn thing already,” she complains, and nods down at the portable IV device slung over her shoulder.

“Well start drinking and eating and keeping it all down and they'll take it out sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, well if I could think about food without the nausea coming back, I'd eat. Maybe that'll be next. Where I can actually think about it or look at it without feeling sick,” she sinks down into the chair beside him. “What time is it?”

“Almost one in the afternoon. You must have needed the rest. You've been out since last night.”

“Jesus...” she presses the heel of her palm into one eyes, than the other. “...I feel like I could keep sleeping. I was up for a little while this morning but I drifted off again.”

“Tyler get in?”

“Yeah, around eight thirty-ish? He's still sleeping. Where's Nik?”

“Went into town to get us some lunch.”

“Oh really...” she stares at him pointedly. “...us as in you two or as in you two and her people?”

“Us as in me and her.”

“I see. So what's up? Are you two hooking up or...?”

“We're getting to know each other. We're not going to pull a 'you and Tyler'. Although I bet those five days were a lot of fun.”

“You have no idea. Five days with him was enough to make me forget anyone else that ever came before him. So you like her? You think she likes you? Come on, spill the beans. I want details.”

“There are no details to give you. We're still in the getting to know you stage. We stayed up pretty late last night.”

“Just talking or...”

“Yes, Esme. Just talking. Like I said, we aren't pulling a 'you and Tyler'. I do have to admit though, I am kind of jealous. What guy doesn't want a situation like that happening?”

“What guy doesn't want to go and rescue the kidnapped son of a drug lord for another drug lord?”

“That's obviously not what I want. I mean having a woman right there....for five days...that can't keep her hands off of him. I mean, it's gross that my sister was the woman, but that is what I call one lucky sonofabitch. Goes into there to do a job...”

“And gets a job,” she finishes with a smirk. “More than one a day, actually.”

“Okay, that I did not need to know. If you're hungry, I can text her and get her to pick you something up. Just say the word.”

“Oh, we're onto text messaging now. Kyle, you don't normally give women your cell number. Half the time you don't even get first names. You're more the fuck and duck type. You must be really into her.”

“Yeah,” his smile broadens. “I guess I am. She's something else. Totally unlike anyone else I've ever met.”

“Well she's not a blond with big boobs for one. Or a bar slut. So she would be unlike anyone you've ever met. You better make your move before this job is over. She's not going to hang around Colorado forever, you know. Because eventually all this crazy shit is going to end and she's going to back to what she normally does. And you don't want that to happen without making a move, do you?”

“I think you need to worry about your personal life.”

“What personal life? I'm married. I have four kids. I have one in the oven. I don't have a personal life. I have to live vicariously through you. And, if I'm being honest, I think Nik would be good for you. She's beautiful, she's strong, insanely intelligent. She has her own thing going on and doesn't need a man's help so she won't be clingy and suffocating. She has her own place....a beautiful place, I may add...so she won't constantly be on your doorstep and be wanting to move in. What more could you possibly want?”

“Well, she'd have to want me, so there's that.”

“What's not to want? You're my brother but even I can admit you're a super good looking guy, you work out a lot so you've got the whole big shoulders and big arms thing going on, you're funny, you're compassionate, you're strong. And you're a firefighter. What woman does not like firefighters? I can't think of a single on. You guys would be perfect for each other! You're totally unlike any guy she's been with, I can tell you that much.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because I know a couple she's been with and I've heard stories of others. She's either been with much older businessmen or guys she's met on the job.”

“Mercenaries? What would she want with a firefighter, then?”

“What wouldn't she want with a firefighter? They're brave, they're bad ass, they're strong as fuck. That all makes for a very sexy and appealing man, if I do say so myself. Fuck mercenaries. I mean, not all of them obviously, because I married one. But he's in a league of his own and not like the others, trust me. Nik is perfect for you. And you're perfect for her. So quit being a whiny bitch baby and make your move! Get her away from Mark, before he pulls his bullshit with her too.”

“She'd probably kill Mark if he even tried with her.”

“Likely. But don't let it come to that. Make a move. Or I will do it for you. I will ask her out for you.”

His eyes narrow. “You wouldn't.”

“Oh yes, I would. Don't put it past me. I'm not above embarrassing the shit out of you. It's time to get your personal life together. Enough with the bar sluts and the random hook ups. You need a real woman! Someone who can keep you in line! Who has her shit together. Whose independent and strong and just kick ass. Do it! What the hell are you waiting for?”

“Isn't she technically here on work? Wouldn't that be unprofessional?”

“Who cares? Do you think what Tyler and I did while we were 'working' was professional? We didn't give a shit. We did it anyway. We did it a lot, actually.”

“That's a very good point. Maybe I was going to set my standards higher than yours,” he teases.

“Bruh, you have no idea what that five days was like. Do not knock it. You probably haven't had an entire year that could measure up to that five days. I'm just saying.”

“I do not need to know these things about you guys. I mean, I know you guys have sex. Obviously. You have four kids and one on the way. But I don't need to know what kind of sex you guys have.”

“You sure? Because I've got stories that will make you even you blush. You want some Tyler stories? He'd kill me for telling you them, but I have stories for you. That that man's sexual prowess is second to none and he has crazy good stamina.”

Kyle grimaces. “Okay, that's enough. I do not need to know this stuff about my sister and my brother in law. As far as I'm concerned, you've had sex four times and that's when the kids were conceived. That's all I want to think about, okay? Do not put imagines in my head. I'll never have sex again if I get imagines like that in my head. And I'd like to have sex again.”

“With Nik? Come on. It's with Nik, isn't it.”

“What's with Nik?” the woman in question asks, as she steps out onto the deck.

“My brother's balls,” Esme chirps. “They're in your purse, aren't they.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle mutters, shaking his head.

“Don't be embarrassed,” Nik says. “I'm used to her. That's nothing compared to some of the things that I've heard come out of that cute little mouth. And considering what she puts into that mouth...”

“That's a penis reference in case you didn't get that, Kyle,” Esme teases.

“No I got that. And now I have an image of my sister and my brother in law in my head that I will never get out, until the day I die. And then I'll take it my grave and it will haunt me in the afterlife.”

“Kyle is very sensitive when it comes to any thought of me having sex,” Esme explains to Nik. “Even though I'm married. And I have four kids and one is currently baking. He does not like to think about how I got babies in me.”

“No, I don't it,” he grimaces. “Not at all. So if you could stop...”

“Tyler still sleeping?” Nik asks, as she sits two paper bags in the middle of the patio table and begins unpacking Styrofoam containers of take out.

Esme nods. “He'll probably be out for a while. Jet lag sometimes hits him pretty hard. And his body's trying to get used to being back on the Valium and it takes a bit for him to adjust.”

“He still have that weird haircut?” Kyle asks, as he pushes himself up out of the chair and joins Nik at the table, standing alongside of her.

“Excuse you? Weird haircut? That's his best hair cut yet. And sexy as fuck. So you bite your tongue.”

She notices the way her brother and Nik interact; the little smiles they exchange, the way their shoulders are pressed together, how she leans into him and he briefly lays a hand on the small of her back.

“If he's back on the Valium, do you think he'll be okay in New Zealand?” Nik inquires. “Is that enough time for him to adjust?”

“Should he even be going?” Kyle counters. “I mean, my sister just got out of the hospital.”

“I was not in the hospital,” Esme says. “I was looked at at the hospital. And Tyler and I haven't talked about this yet. About New Zealand. I think that's the first conversation about it I should have. With him.”

“It doesn't matter if you were actually in the hospital or not,” her brother argues, and hands her a plate of food. “I texted her while we were talking,” he explains, when Esme arches an eyebrow. “Try to eat, kid. That little peanut needs you to eat. Or you will get admitted and you'll be in there a while.”

“You're a pain in my ass, K,” she responds, but gives him an appreciative smile.

“Like I was saying,” he continues. “It doesn't matter if you were in there or not. You're having issues and...”

“Fainting is not having issues. And I fainted because I was dehydrated and my blood pressure was high.”

“You have a concussion and seven stitches in your head,” he points out. “And there could be something wrong. With either you or the baby. We need to be realistic here. It's a possibility. Whether you want to admit it or not. So why take the chance? Why should he go back when he's got all these things going on at home?”

“Because he needs to,” Esme reluctantly admits, and Nik nods in agreement as she sits down beside her. “As much as I hate to admit it and my heart is breaking just thinking about him leaving and going there, it's what's best for him.”

“I don't get how that makes any sense,” Kyle says. “What's best for him is staying here. With you. Especially when you're having issues.”

“What's he going to do, K? Other than sit around here and worry about me. He can't stop what's happening. There's nothing he can actually do about it.”

“There's going to be doctors appointments, test results coming in,” Kyle points out, as he sits to Esme's left. “Shouldn't he be here for that stuff? He's going to want to be here. You can't tell me he won't want to be here.”

“He will,” she says. “But what's best for him is to go to New Zealand and get those kids.”

“I'm not understanding how that's what's best for him. Isn't this going to be dangerous?”

“Very,” Nik confirms.

“So isn't it better he doesn't go? What happens if something goes wrong. And Emse, I know you hate even thinking about it, let alone talking about it, but there's a very real possibly he could get seriously hurt. Or worse. Is that a risk you want to take? Is that a risk he'd want to take it? That something happens and he doesn't get a chance to meet this baby? I don't see him wanting to take that chance. He's not that selfish. You can't tell me he is.”

“At this point, it doesn't matter what Tyler wants,” Nik speaks up. “It's about what we know is best for him. And Esme knows what's best for him. Probably even more than he does.”

She nods. “Believe me, I don't want him to go. Selfishly, I want him to stay. I want him home. For good. But I know he needs to do this. He needs to get those kids out of there and get them somewhere safe. Because he will ever forgive himself if he doesn't. If he doesn't go, it's always going to be on his mind that he didn't go there and he didn't get them out. Their blood will be on his hands. And that will haunt him for the rest of his life and I don't...” her voice cracks with emotion. “....I don't want that for him. I don't want that on his conscience. He'd never be the same. I'm trying to get him healthy. Mentally. And not going for those kids and having that in his brain? That would break him. And I don't want that happening to him.”

“It's okay...” Nik's voice is soft, soothing, as she reaches out to rub her friend's back in comfort. “...just try and stay calm.”

“Isn't there someone else?” Kyle asks. “That can do this? Instead of someone with so much to lose?”

“It can't be anyone else,” Esme replies. “It can't. It has to be Tyler. He's the one who accepted this job, he's the one whose been working on it, he has to be the one to go and get them. And I know it doesn't make sense to you, Kyle. You're worried about what will happen to me and the kids if he doesn't come back. And I get that. I do. Because I worry about it every time he walks out the door when he takes a job. But this isn't any job, This is the job that will break him if he doesn't get it done. You don't understand what is going on with him. What's going on in his head. But I do. I know him a lot better than you do. So I need you to back off and trust me. I'm doing what's best for him. Whether you understand why or not.”

“I'm just worried about you, kid. And him. This sounds like some serious shit he's getting himself into. He's got you and he's got his kids...”

“Kyle, please,” Esme begs. “You need to just back off. I've been living this life for five and a half years. I've been with this man through some really bad shit. That you can't even begin to imagine. And he needs to do this. You have to trust me when I say that. I know what I'm talking about. You don't live this life. With him. But I do. And this is what has to happen.”

“Okay...” he reluctantly surrenders. “...I'll cave. I'll trust you. But I still think it's a stupid fucking idea. And he probably will too.”

“You really don't know Tyler that well,” Esme gives a small laugh. “He's already thought of all the possible ways to get those kids out. About all the things that could wrong and how he can counteract them. Once he's this deep into a job, it's an obsession. Even more so with there being kids involved. It won't take much convincing to get him to go.”

Her brother sighs. “I really hope you know what you're doing, kid. Because this could go wrong. So very, very wrong. Are you prepared for that? Just in case?”

“I've been ready for the worst for five and a half years,” she admits. “You don't think we've considered everything? That we don't have things in place if someone does happen to him? He's not a stupid man. He has everything thought out. Everything planned. In case something does happen. Am I ready for the worst? To live my life without him? Of course I'm not. It's the last thing I want. But he's thought of everything, and the kids and I will be fine if it does happen.”

“But we're going to do everything we can so that doesn't happen,” Nik pipes up. “He has great people watching his back.”

“You're really not going to trust Mark with him are you?” Kyle asks. “He's the last person any of you should trust. He'd kill Tyler before he'd help him. No question about it.”

“We've got two other people,” she says. “Two Marines. He has a rapport with Nathan. And he's a good kid and he's loyal to Tyler in the very short period of time they've known each other. I'll tell Yaz to make sure that is the one that goes in to help. We need two. There's no way Tyler can get two kids and himself out of there safely. Especially if there's resistance.”

“And there will be,” Esme speaks up. “Resistance. No doubt about it. The Buckmans are not going to just let him walk in there and take those kids.”

“You think they already know he's coming?” Nik asks.

“I know they do. They just don't know when he's going to show up. But they know he's on his way. Especially after what he did at McMann's house to some of their people. “

Kyle frowns. “Who are the Buckmans?”

“An organized crime family in New Zealand,” Esme replies. “Don't ask. It's a very long story. But they're vicious and they're violent and they are not going to let him take those kids peacefully. They're going to fight back. And he knows that.”

“This keeps getting worse and worse,” Kyle grumbles. “And you seriously want him to go into this?”

“I don't want him to go,” his sister responds. “But I know he has to.”

***

He feels her climb into bed beside him; eyes closed as he listens to her mutter profanities about the IV stuck in her hand and the medical contraption she's being forced to carry around with her. She settles down next to him, on her side with her head resting on his collarbone and her hand on his stomach, and he brings his hand up to gently rest on the top of her head. Careful to mind the stitches and now very prominent bump that accompanies them.

“You're in my spot,” she says.

“Actually, this is my spot. It's been my spot for four years now.”

“When you're not here it becomes my spot. I always sleep in your spot. I like sleeping in all your little grooves and your indents.”

He grins. “I can't figure out if that's endearing or super creepy.”

“Fuck you, it's endearing. It makes me feel closer to you. Especially when I can smell you on your pillow. You don't do stuff like that? When I'm not around?”

“When are you ever not around? When I'm home, you're home. So...”

“Is that a complaint? That sounds like a complaint.”

“That is definitely not a complaint,” he assures her, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “There was one time....when you were in the hospital after the twins were born...that I slept with your pillow,” he admits.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Things were scary and the twins weren't doing well and I had to stay here with Millie and I felt like shit about it. Made me feel better to sleep with your pillow. I don't know why...” he shrugs. “...it just did.”

“Tyler Rake, you big softie. Everyone else thinks you're so big and bad all the time and I know all the cute little shit you say and do. I should write a book.”

“No, you shouldn't. There's some things we need to keep just between us. People do not need to know those things.”

“Like how you always cry when the kids are watching The Fox and the Hound?”

“Okay, for the record, that's a very sad fucking movie. And I only cry at the part when the old lady leaves Todd in the woods.”

“You even know his name?” she teases. “Baby, you're so cute. You're not as alpha male as you and other people think you are. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone that Disney movies make you cry.”

“It's one movie. One. And I never would have known about it if you didn't buy it for the kids and your one son....who shall remain nameless...wouldn't stop watching it for three months. And he'd come bawling to me every time that part came on and make me sit and watch it with him because it said made him feel better if I sat with him. That's not what it was. That little shit just didn't want to be alone in his misery.”

“That's it, throw Junior under the bus. I told you he's just like you. He even cries at the same things. Didn't you both cry watching Iron Giant too?”

“I did not cry. I had something in my eyes.”

“Sure you did,” she laughs, and places a kiss on the side of his neck. “Didn't you cry watching Gladiator?”

“That was a bitch move Commodus pulled on my boy Russell Crowe and you know it. And you're the one that cries at commercials so you're the last one who should be on me about sad movies. How many times have you had to ask me to change channel because those ASPCA commercials and you get all weepy over the animals? Hundreds. Thousands. Every time one comes on. And then I have to listen to you go into a sob story about your golden retriever when you were growing up.”

She rests her chin on his chest and glares up at him. “Don't you bring Max into this. He was the goodest good boy ever and my mom only got rid of him because Kyle kept bringing home bad report cards and because he was so 'stupid' as she called him, she hit him where it hurt the most and got rid of his dog. He was never the same after that.”

“So that's what's wrong with him.”

“Well there's a lot wrong with him, but that's besides the point. Why would you do that? Bring Max into things. Now look...” she sniffles, tears sparkling in her eyes, lower lip wobbling. “...you're a horrible person.”

He can't help but chuckle, and then gives an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“Yes you did. I swear you enjoy it. You're a masochist.”

“Wouldn't that make a me a sadist? If I enjoy making you cry?”

“It makes you an asshole is what it makes you,” she huffs, and he bites back a laugh and moves his hand to the back of her head and pushes her face down to his chest.

“I'm sorry. I do not like making you cry and you know it. And I'm sorry your mom got rid of your dog because your brother's a dumb ass.”

“I told she's psychotic. I told you!”

“If it wouldn't make us brother and sister, I'd say hook her up with my dad. They'd be perfect for each other. They could just make each other miserable and leave everyone else alone.”

“As much as I'd enjoy the two of them torturing each other, I do not want to be related to you. That's a level of Jerry Springer Show red neck shit I do not want to get involved with.”

“There's probably porn about that. Husband and wife who are also step brother and step sister.”

“You'd know. That's probably the weird shit you look up.”

“I do not watch porn.”

“You're a fucking liar. We've watched it together.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh yeah...I remember that...you were into it way more than I was.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“I am sorry. That I brought the dog into things. And that your mom's a psycho. You won't have to worry about that much longer. Once we get fuck out of here. She's going to lose her shit, you know. When she finds out we're leaving.”

“She just told me that we're all dead to her. She won't give a shit.”

“Babe, tomorrow she's going to call and she's going to try and convince you that she never said those things or try and get you to believe that she didn't mean them the way you took them or that you're overreacting. It's the same bullshit every time she does something like this.”

“I'm starting to think she's the reason why Sarge is the way he is.”

“You're just starting to think that? I've been thinking that since I met her. She's messed up. And you think you have issues.”

“I do. I have one big issue. That's six foot three and two hundred and ten pounds.”

“Two twenty.”

“Is the extra ten pounds your middle aged spread?”

He scowls. “I'm not middle aged. Sixty is middle aged.”

“Tyler, no one lives to be a hundred and twenty.”

“Is that a challenge? That sounds like a challenge.”

“Look, as much as I want you to live to a ripe old age, we both know you're not making it that long. Because you know one day I'm going to snap and I will kill you long before you get there. And it's going to be a lot sooner if you don't stop leaving your dirty laundry in front of the hamper instead of putting them inside. You've been warned. About a hundred times in the past month alone. Is that really the hill you want to die on?”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it's like death by cop. Put yourself in the line of fire so someone else does the dirty work for you.”

“I can think of other more pressing things to kill you over than dirty laundry,” she says, and snuggles her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “And I haven't killed you yet so I think it's safe to safe that it's not going to happen. That as much as you drive me batshit insane, I'd rather you be here than do that than not be here at all.”

He smiles at that, then presses his lips to her forehead. “You good? Feeling okay?”

“Well I did eat. Not a lot but I did get some into me and I haven't thrown it up. I think those meds are working. To stop the puking. But I have a killer headache.”

“It's the concussion. It'll go away in a couple of days. Where does it hurt?”

She reaches up to move his hand to her forehead, so his thumb sits between the edge of her eyebrow and the side of her nose. “Don't press too hard. You don't know your own strength half the time.” And she gives a long, content sigh when his thumb presses into the tender spot and begins massaging in firm, slow circles. “I've been taking care of you and kids for so long, I forgot how nice it is to have someone take care of me.”

“Well, I try. But you don't let me do it, so....”

“I could get used to this,” she gives another sigh. “You can stick around. You're useful after all.”

He grins and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“I told Kyle,” she says.

“About?”

“You. About what you do.”

“You mean other than drive you crazy and give you awesome dick?”

She nods. “I told him about you. About what you do for a living. That it isn't private security. That you're actually a mercenary. Don't be mad. I know we agreed to not tell people.”

“We agreed to not tell people five and a half years ago. It doesn't matter who knows now. This is it. The last job. Once I'm done, I'm done. Doesn't matter if anyone knows.”

“You promise? That this is it? That a year from now you're not going to get bored and go back to it?”

“I promise. Once this is over, that guy won't exist anymore.”

“He'll never disappear entirely, Tyler. That's impossible. He'll always be a part of you. And that's not a bad thing. That guy? That Tyler? He's not a horrible person. I mean, he's the guy that I fell in love to begin with, right? That wouldn't have happened if he was a terrible person.”

“Maybe you just have shitty taste in men,” he teases, and she laughs against his neck.

“I don't want him disappearing entirely,” she says. “Because there's parts of him that I really like. That I want to stick around. That I need to stick around.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“He's strong. Fearless. He'd do anything to protect me and the kids.”

“It doesn't need to be the old Tyler to be those things. That's just part of who I am.”

“Then hang onto that part, okay? Because I'm so lucky to have that part. We've had our issues. But there's never been a time where I didn't feel safe with you. I've always trusted that part of you. That nothing would happen to me or the kids.”

“Nothing will,” he assures her. “You're safe with me. You're all safe with me.”

“I know. And I know what you're capable of doing to do people, so I feel sorry for anyone that even tries to hurt me or the kids. It'll be different. When we go back to Australia. We can find a little town to move to. Where no one knows us. Where it's quiet and peaceful and we can just start over. Where no one knows our past and we're just the new family in town. Where we can have a normal life.”

“Have you met our kids? They are far from normal. No one will ever think we're normal. Trust me.”

“Especially you with that hair cut,” she teases.

“Excuse me? This hair cut is only here because you insist I keep it this way.”

“I do love it,” she says, and reaches up to push her fingers through the longer strands. “You need to tidy it up. Shave the sides and the back. You're starting to look shaggy again.”

“I might shave my beard off though.”

“Do it and I file for divorce. That's the only warning you're getting.”

He chuckles at that.

“Your kids wouldn't even recognize you. You've always had a beard. With all of them. Millie would probably cry. She'd need therapy for sure.”

“Never mind her. You'd probably cry and need therapy.”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “That's not a lie.”

“What did he say? Kyle. When you told him about what I do?”

“Well, he initially wanted to kick your ass. Which would be hilarious to see him try, you have to admit. He's a big boy and he's tough, but he wouldn't last long against you. Maybe you can kick his ass because it's his fault my mom got rid of Max.”

“Not that again. Try to stay on track here, okay? Your ADHD is showing. It's like a dog that can't concentrate because he keeps seeing a squirrel.”

“Why do you keep comparing me to animals? First it's an angry goat and now it's a dog who loves squirrels.”

“Look, I don't have the brain pan you do. I go with what I know. You're the brains of this operation, not me. So, focus. What did your brother say?”

“After he said he wanted to kick your ass?”

He sighs. As much as he loves her and would readily and willingly die for her, sometimes having what should be a simple conversation turns into a massive test of patience. “Yes.”

“I don't think he really believed me at first. I mean, that's kind of a messed up thing to hear. That your brother in law does that sort of thing. But I told him all about Dhaka and what happened there and it helped him understand things. He's fine with it. Well, as fine with it as someone can be, I guess. I don't think he wants to kick your ass anymore.”

“He could try. But...”

“Yeah, no killing my brother, okay? He's the only brother I actually like. He okay with it...” she rubs his stomach. “...he knows it's what you do, not who you are. And he trusts me to make the right decisions. For myself and the kids. And this is the right decision. You're the right decision. I wouldn't have stuck around this long if you weren't.”

“Well I'm glad you did. Stick around.”

She draws back and smiles at him. “Yeah?”

Tyler nods. “Even if I am an asshole that makes you cry sometimes.”

“For what's worth, you make me smile and laugh way more than you make me cry. And you make me do other things too.”

“Yeah? What other things?”

“Oh, you know...”she slides her hand over his stomach and abs and then down onto the front of his boxers.

“You need me to leave me alone,” he informs her, and grabbing a hold of her hand, moves it back up to his stomach.

“That's a first. You saying that. Normally I'm telling you to leave me alone at the most ungodly hours.”

“Yeah...well...” he frowns when her hand slips down again, once more taking hold of it. “...you need to stop...”

“No,” she says, and then her lips and her tongue on the side of his neck.

He momentarily gives it. Grip on her hand releasing, throat tightening, feeling that familiar stirring below the waist. But then he sees that IV line in her hand. “Stop...” he pushes her away. “...you seriously need to stop and leave me alone...” he tosses the blankets off of him and reluctantly climbs out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asks innocently.

“To take a cold shower,” he grumbles, and then disappears into the ensuite bathroom.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character #extraction

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kiraleerose-blog · 4 years

Text

Hurricane

Nobody ever thinks of us. Nobody thinks about how it all affects us. But what if I told you that we needed your thoughts and prayers? What if I told you that we needed them more than our mother did? I’d hope you feel bad.

Packing the dishes away in the dishwasher after school, Aaliyah and I stood in silence. She was going to be home soon, and we had no idea which of her moods to expect. Mum was like the Melbourne weather; you never knew if she was going to come in beaming with warmth or rampaging through the house like a storm. I heard the keys jangling by the front door, and my back turned up rigid. Aaliyah continued doing the dishes with robotic-like movements, not paying any attention to the door. And then Mum walked in, up the hallway and into the kitchen.

We both looked up at her, wondering what the forecast was that day. Her tired eyes suggested it wasn’t going to be a sunny afternoon. “Hi, Mum” I mumbled, and continuing to pack the last of the bowls into the dishwasher. I could feel her eyes staring at me from the archway that separates the kitchen from the hallway. “What’s wrong, girls? You’re not happy to see me?” She said in that fake friendly voice. No matter what we responded, it was going to be met with a hurricane. There was nothing we could do or say, and her feigned friendliness made her all the more threatening. “No, we are,” Aaliyah shrugged. She avoided looking at Mum, and her voice was as monotonous and robotic as her movements. I think Aaliyah removed herself from reality when she was scared. “No, you’re not” Mum’s voiced returned coldly. There it was. We both avoided looking at her but I could feel her eyes burning into my back. “After everything I have done for you,” she started raising her voice slowly “this is how I’m welcomed into my home?” “Mum, please stop…” I pleaded quietly. Looking at Aaliyah, she just stood there looking down. “No, YOU stop” Her voice getting louder now. “I put up with shit ALL day at work, and I come home and you two can’t even stand to look at me!” “What do you mean, Mum! What do you want from us!?” “I want you to respect me! I want you to love me! What have I done to make you two hate me like this!?” I just stared at her dumbfounded. “Why do you always have to be like this, Mum?” I lowered my voice “Nobody hates you” “Bullshit!” She barked at me. Looking at Aaliyah, she just continued to stare downwards but I could see tears streaming down her cheeks. She stood there crying silently. When I looked back up at Mum, she had grabbed a bottle of wine and her Valium from the small cupboard above the fridge. That fucking bitch just couldn’t help herself. “Mum, don’t” I said, glaring at her. She just looked back at me, her eyes wide and she backed off to the stairs. I could hear her feet pound up the stairs and her door slammed shut. “Mum! No!” Aaliyah suddenly screamed and ran up the stairs. I knew she would break. I stayed downstairs, pacing the kitchen back and forth. This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it’s the first time we were the only ones home. Usually Dad was around to help, but he was still at work. It was up a 16 year-old and a 12 year-old to save their delusional mother.

I could hear Aaliyah banging and knocking on the door, and Mum’s muffled yells telling Aaliyah to fuck off. Aaliyah could have just walked in, but nobody wants to see their mother crouched in the corner of a room breaking down and taking as many pills as she can fit in her mouth.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialled 000 and asked for an ambulance. She would have already taken the pills, and the ambulance was going to take her away. She would be committed for a couple months, before being released back to us and doing it all over again.

I walked outside, trying my best to remain calm; I was the eldest here and I needed to hold it together. As always. I couldn’t see an ambulance approaching, they always took so long to get to you. What’s the point of an emergency vehicle if they’re too late?. I ran back inside and up the stairs to check on Aaliyah, but she was no longer out the front of Mum’s bedroom door. I walked through the hallway and into her room, where I saw her crouched at the foot of her bed, her knees pulled up to her face as she rocked back and forth. I approached her softly, careful not to frighten her. “Aaliyah… It’ll be okay” I stroked her back. “No it’s not! It’s all my fault...” She sobbed into her arms, not looking up at me.

Suddenly, I heard the loud knocking on the door, and I ran down the stairs to let the paramedics in and directed them to Mum’s room. They burst into the room and I could hear yelling. I stood outside, waiting anxiously for them to come out with her, and surely enough after what felt like a life time, they did. One of the men in blue was carrying her in her arms, and as she was carried past me, she was slurring her words at me and crying.

“What’s going to happen to her?” I asked one of them. “We’re taking her in the ambulance, we think she’ll be okay,” She explained “We’ve contacted your Dad and he said he’ll meet us there” I just nodded at her and allowed them to walk past with my Mum. I stayed upstairs, and watched the ambulance drive away. I could feel my eyes begin to water, but I couldn’t let myself go just yet. Aaliyah was still struggling, and I needed to be there for her, right?

I walked into her bedroom, where she was still on the floor, only this time on her side in a foetal position. Moving down to her level, I laid down behind her and put my arms around her trying my best to be the comforting big sister. I could feel her heavy breathing, and I knew there was nothing I could do.

“Claudia…” She whispered meekly “Please don’t be mad at me” “I could never” I responded as I felt her push something cold into my hands. It was an empty blister pack of Panadol. This was something I wasn’t prepared for. I knew that the pack was already used, but I still didn’t know how much she had taken. And she was only 12, what if it affected her differently? I was lost. “Oh my God, Aaliyah” “I had to do it… Mum would be so much happier without us.” I pulled her closer into my arms, and hugged her tightly. “Do you know what we have to do now?” “Please don’t bring the ambulance back…” “I don’t want to. But we’re going to need to throw it all up, okay?” She just started sobbing into my arms, and I could feel her chest heaving up and down. I used one of my arms to stroke her head, but nothing was calming her down. We were both freaking out, really. I moved my arms and pushed myself up, giving her my hand so I could pull her up also. She crossed her arms, and hunched her back, and walked with me into the bathroom next to her room. “Alright, can you kneel in front of the toilet?” She nodded, and slowly placed her knees on the cold tiled floor, and I crouched down next to her. I’d seen them do this in movies, so I tried to act like I knew what I was doing. I didn’t. At all.

I put my hands on the front of face, and opening her mouth with one hand, I stuck the other into her mouth and felt around with my fingers and until I felt the back of her throat. She started to gag on my hand, but nothing was coming out. I kept on trying, until it was like something clicked. She instantly threw up all over my hand, and I tried to pull it away but I still go enough on my arm to make my dry reach myself. She threw up into the toilet, and I rubbed her back as she let it all out. I whispered soothing words into her ear, as I pulled her hair back. Thank God it worked.

When she was finished, I washed her in the bath and dressed her in her favourite pyjamas and put her to bed. She was silent the whole way through, and her silence killed me. I wished she was angry, I wished should could have been sad, I wished that she could have shown me any sign of feeling. But as I washed her hair, she just sat there staring ahead. Unmoving, and unresponding. When I was putting on her pyjamas, she moved like a doll and let me have my way. When I put her to bed, she didn’t close her eyes. Eventually, she rolled over to face the other way. I hoped that she fell asleep. I crawled into bed with her and laid there silently watching over her. Stroking her hair, I fell asleep in her bed.

I know that Aaliyah didn’t succeed in killing herself that day, but a piece of her died. When Mum took those pills and blamed it on us; she took a piece of Aaliyah that she had taken from me long before that day. Now, here we are, 18 and 21, creating our own forecast. Aaliyah’s days are cloudy; no wind, no rain, no sunshine, nothing. My days are unpredictable as Mum’s, I can’t keep it together anymore. When my world feels like crumbling down around me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. That’s one of the lovely traits I picked up from my Mum. Along with my meds that I have to take, along with the lack of mental stability, along with me not being able to leave the comfort of my room for days at a time.

Mum is better. Mum doesn’t take meds anymore. Mum works every day. Mum travels the world.

It was amazing, seeing everyone so invested in making sure my Mum made it out alive. Depression is the most relentless killer of our time. I’m glad He didn’t take her. Dad would take her to her weekly therapy sessions, she got constant time off work for her ‘recovery’, and her friends would tell us how lucky we are to have such a strong mother. But where was Aaliyah’s therapy? Where was my therapy? Oh, that’s right. We weren’t the depressed ones.

Thanks, Mum. I’m glad you’re finally happy.

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sciwriteblog-blog · 6 years

Text

CHRISTMAS LETTER 2017

This letter is way over the top. There are three sections, my travails, politics, and predictions. My recommendation: Skip the travails and go to the next two. Trump’s recent complaints about the FBI are laying the groundwork for dumping Mueller and Rosenstein. Trump’s tactics are unprecedented in American history, undermining public trust in basic institutions like the press and now the FBI as a pretext for “executive action.” He’ll be dumped in 2020 and possibly the Republican congress sooner. See my comments under Predictions.

There was lots of excitement in 2017. Just like in 2015, I paid an unscheduled visit to Alta Bates Hospital. Same problem as before: bugs got in my PICC, the infusion line through which I pump the TPN that keeps me alive. (A PICC, or peripherally inserted central catheter, is for infusing TPN (total parenteral nutrition,), liquid “food” pumped out of a plastic bag through an infusion line into my vascular system to substitute for food ingested through the normal route because my gut is sickly. I do this every night.) It wasn’t bacteria this time but fungi, an infection called “fungemia.” These little buggers are floating around always and everywhere just like bacteria. How did the fungi get into my blood stream? Through the opening in the clave used to hook the pump to the infusion line. It’s the only way. Once the bugs get in, they go straight into the bloodstream right along with the TPN. Worse, they “colonize” the PICC line, growing in a warm dark place where the immune system can’t get to them.

Major symptoms this year were less severe than the sepsis in 2015: low grade fever, rapid pulse, mild malaise. Nicki, a nurse at Herrick hospital, coached me during one of my weekly PICC dressing changes on the fever (101.4) and heart rate (above 90 bpm) levels indicative of blood infection. The fever had been going on for some time and now my heart rate was also elevated, so after I went home and thought about it, I returned to the hospital, just a block away, to have my blood drawn for culture. Two days later, I got a call from the doctor: “You have a fungal blood infection; they’re waiting for you at Alta Bates Hospital; get there as soon as you can.”

The treatment was simple: One daily infusion of 250 mg Diflucan, an anti-fungal, over 90 minutes for the three days I was in the hospital and for up to 10 days afterward as an outpatient. Also pull the PICC line where the bugs hide out. I could have done all this outpatient but doctors want you in one spot, so I spent three days inpatient. Compared to the bacterial sepsis two years ago, fungemia is a cakewalk. I was never really that sick. Had Nicki not commented, I might have gone on weeks longer not realizing I had a potentially serious infection.

I also paid two visits to Alta Bates ER on the July 4th holiday weekend. Severe back pain this time. I have a developmental anomaly; one of my intervertebral discs just never became a real disc. This is the presumed reason I can’t sit for long. X-rays and MRI’s show a strange-looking structure where a disc is supposed to be. Is that thing really in me? When the mattress atop the box spring sags even the slightest bit after years of use, my back senses the mis-alignment and generates pain far in excess of what seems justifiable or tolerable. This is the third time in 12 years of such, so I have experience with it, but this time was so bad I couldn’t get to the mattress dealer before I became more or less incapacitated.

I slept on the floor to avoid a mattress that looked perfectly fine. Monday, July 3ed, I couldn’t get up off the floor and walk to the kitchen. After a struggle and realizing the pain was getting worse not better, I called 911. The fire department arrived so fast I didn’t have time to crawl on all fours to the door while still talking with 911. The firemen banged on the door, taking me and the gurney down three flights of stairs; strapping fellows those firemen. When one asked how I got to the door, I said, “I put on my track shoes and sprinted, how do you think?” With little appreciation for my humor, we trundled through the Berkeley streets while they quizzed me on my demographics and shot me up with something that made my head spin AFTER we arrived at the ER when I no longer needed it.

Ninety minutes later I’d been given a shot of Dilaudid the brand name for hydromorphone, an opioid pain killer, and scripts for same and Valium, a benzodiazepine tranquilizer/muscle relaxant. I wasn’t too sure about becoming a dope addict until I got a new bed, but at least I could walk. To get to the CVS pharmacy and then home, I used the Uber app I had downloaded two days before for just this situation. It worked great; a driver picked me up in no time; followed by a comfortable ride to the pharmacy ….where they were out of hydromorphone in a country overflowing with opiods! Was half of Berkeley high on it for the holiday? Back to the ER where I asked the clerk to ask the doctor could he prescribe a different pain killer? The doctor couldn’t, and said the muscle relaxant would do. Okay, back to the CVS, get the Valium, and finally home.

Next day the 4th, the same problem all over again. I couldn’t walk. Same drill: Call 911, say hello to the firemen, “I hoped I wouldn’t see you guys again so soon, but they didn’t give me a pain killer yesterday, so here I am,” and find a doctor more forthcoming with pain scripts. Getting home, I struck up a friendship with an Algerian Uber driver, who agreed to drive me on errands until I felt safe enough to drive or walk myself. Next day, Wednesday, we drove to the mattress discounter and bought the firmest one in the place. It was delivered Thursday. Saturday morning, after two nights on the new mattress, much relief finally. The nightmare was over, most of the meds untaken. Long-term solution: Buy a new mattress after 7-8 years use, at least a year before it’s time for a new on.

Medical billing is notoriously slow. Just last week I got a bill for the ambulance ride to the hospital on the second day, July 4th. To go less than a mile, they wanted $2,419.42. Outraged, I called the 800 number and asked why I was billed for the second day, but not the first? Molly, the billing agent, looked this up and told me that there had likely been a coding problem and that my supplemental insurance had probably covered the second ambulance ride just like the first. Relief! When we were done with the transaction, Molly asked if there was anything more she could do for me. I said, “You just saved me $2,400, what more could there possibly be? ” We parted on good terms.

Last year I mentioned two articles I was writing on the weighty topic of whether climate causes civil war. Note that interpersonal violence, better known as violent crime, goes up with temperature; people lose their temper when it gets hotter. This is not in dispute. There is even a study showing that retaliation for hit batters in baseball goes up in hot weather. The dispute is about whether political violence, that is, coups d’état, revolutions, armed insurrections, etc., are more likely to take place as temperatures rise. I had written a story for a science writing class about 3,000 words long focusing on the Syrian civil war including the climatology involved, the relevant history and politics of the Arab Spring, and governance of Syria, which, needless to say, is bad indeed. There was also a second article, more than twice as long, about the general problem of climate and war. This has relevance for a warming world, of course, but is based on historical data from years in which the temperature was above normal due to natural variation. In warmer years was there more civic violence? Interestingly, there was an ongoing dispute among peace and conflict researchers about just this question.

Meanwhile, I ran across a call for science manuscripts at the Atlantic Monthly, that bastion of American liberalism. The somewhat flippant tone of the request made me wary about just how serious they were about the science, but this was the Atlantic Monthly, so I decided to try them out. Having spent so much time on the long story, I wanted to know what chance it stood of finally seeing the light of day. After too much time polishing them, I emailed to the editorial staff links for both articles on my Tumblr blog. Bad idea. They politely told me they would “Take a pass on these.” At least they seemed to have read them, but the feedback I had hoped for on how to make them publishable, especially the long one, was not forthcoming.

Pulling myself together after the rejection, I thought, “Well, these people are looking for infotainment, not science,” and sending both articles was really dumb, no matter how much I wanted the feedback. There is really no way to know which article was problematic although it was probably both. What’s ironic is that the long article is really better even though it’s too technical because it demonstrates that three UC, Berkeley professors who claim their data show that climate causes civil war, are flat out wrong. There is agreement among other researchers that what the data does show is that when crops fail because of heat or drought and there are marginalized groups within a society, only then is civil conflict more likely, as these excluded groups revolt. This was very much the situation in Syria, where a six-year drought ignited a powder keg of political repression, triggering the worst civil war in this century. Climatologists are in general agreement that climate change played a role in the drought, placing stress on people by drying up their crops leading to food shortages and leaving no choice but to revolt in the face of a government that refused any aid at all. Now, after more than seven years of war, the Assad regime, with Russian assistance, has crushed that revolt. The Russians are supposed to be the revolutionaries. Not under Putin.

Writing about this now, I think I know what I did wrong. Maybe I’ll go back, write a new draft and try again, setting aside for a while my latest project.

Politics:

Last year, I said Hilary lost the election by ignoring voters who used to be solidly Democratic. The Reagan Democrats, the Forgotten Man (and Woman), shook the political landscape. But this was really nothing new. For some time, political scientists have studied why working class and rural whites vote for Republicans against their own economic interest. Trump lost the popular vote by nearly 3 million, and won in the Electoral College on the basis of fewer than 80,000 votes cast in swing states that were once safely in the Democratic column, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. A small percentage of Obama voters switched to Trump in those states, putting him in the White House. Even in the midst of the best economy in years, voters who switched from Obama to Trump are still looking for but not finding a better job, a higher standard of living, and relief from the large impersonal forces of automation and globalization that define our time. But if disappointed by Trump, those voters will turn against him in 2020 if the Democrats find the right candidate. But the Democrats are so divided they just might fail even with two or three more years to work at it.

As late as Spring 2016, a clueless Paul Ryan, Speaker of the House, was touting the Holy Triad of Wall Street Republicans: free trade, open borders, and tax cuts. Trump ran against all three and won an Electoral College upset. Now he is about to sign a tax plan made for corporations and the rich that betrays his populist base. The real purpose of the tax plan is to create deficits that can be used as a pretext to defund Medicare and Social Security, programs Trump promised his supporters he wouldn’t touch. Why does he sell out his base? Because the fat cat donors who call the tune in the Republican Party want the tax cuts they bought with their campaign contributions. Some things never change.

Predictions

The speculation that Rex Tillerson will quit the State Department or be fired next month was quelled somewhat by Tuesday’s State Department briefing at which Tillerson talked like a man with plans who was looking forward to next year. If Tillerson leaves or is ousted, then Mike Pompeo, now CIA director, becomes Secretary of State; Tom Cotton, now a Senator from Arkansas, takes the helm at CIA; and Hilary can run for the open seat in her former home state. Pull for Tillerson because he is moderate and pursues diplomatic solutions. Both Pompeo and Cotton are inexperienced, have military backgrounds, and are hard liners. Their ascent would tilt the scales toward war.

Trump will fire Mueller and start a national furor, perhaps soon. You might think that Trump would find relief when he fires Mueller, but there may be only short-term comfort in the firing given Trump’s history of sexual misconduct and the new political climate on harassment and groping. Just ask Roy Moore.

If the presidential election were held today, Trump would be trounced in the popular vote and would probably lose the Electoral College. But the Democrats would have to win at least 55 percent in the popular vote to have sufficient margin to win the electoral vote in states where they were weak in 2016 including Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. Can the Democrats overcome their internal divisions, much like those in the Republican Party, and find a charismatic candidate who will excite the country the way Trump excited the Forgotten Folks? Don’t bet on it.

There are too many unknowns to call the Senate, now precariously in Republican hands 51 49. The number of Senators up for re-election favors the Republicans, just 9 seats to the Democrats’ 24. But “passion,” which is hugely important in the emotional business of political campaigns, favor the Democrats: energy, anger, and enthusiasm. Also, midterm elections always hurt the sitting president’s party, the Republicans in 2018. Ditto for the House races below. Bottom line, the Republicans keep the Senate.

That energy might win back the House for the Democrats, but jerrymandered districting favors the Republicans. It will take high turnout and lots of atmospherics to overcome that advantage and win the 25 additional seats required to win control of the House. Bottom line: The Democrats win back the House.

We will know about all these predictions except the presidential when next we meet.

Oh, yes. This will be another year of drought in California after a two-year hiatus from the three years of extreme drought before the hiatus. Some things never change.

Happy Holidays,

Fred

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