Save Me (The Broken Souls Series Book 1) Read online

  “Why the fuck did you do it, man?” I croak out, tears pricking the back of my eyes. “Things were looking up. You had nothing but light in your future.”

  My hands shake as I drop my head in them. These are the questions that will haunt me for as long as I live. Add it to my ever growing list of shit that doesn’t make sense. On my list also includes questions like why was my mom such a shit human being and why did I have to lose my goddamn leg in that car bombing. They’re pointless questions to ask, I’ll never get an answer for them, yet they scream at me any time I get even a little bit emotional. It’s like I can never focus on one trauma I’ve lived through, I need to fret over all of them at the same damn time.

  An angry snarl releases from my mouth as the tears start freely flowing down my cheeks. This isn’t fucking fair, this whole damn life I’ve been given, but that doesn’t mean you just throw it all away. Declan screwed us all over the minute he decided to end his life and release more pain into the lives of those that loved him. He was my fucking brother, not by blood but by choice. That bond the four of us shared was deeper than any biological one could go.

  Why did he do this?

  One more unknown, one more aching wound in my heart. It’s a damn good thing that these kinds of wounds don’t bleed because I’d have died from internal bleeding before I even hit puberty. Some people have scars from the life they’ve lived, I have scabs and gaping wounds, none of them healing enough to scar. I guess what the fuck is one more to me.

  Composing myself, I stand to head back into the fuckery this wake is sure to be. My eyes scan the parking lot, doing anything to avoid going back inside, when I catch sight of the stunning, albeit traitorous, face of Alayna. She saw me break, she saw me fight my demons, and now she looks positively broken. Serves her right, maybe now she’ll second guess hurting us even more with whatever evil plan she has.

  With a shake of my head and a sneer thrown in her direction, I move back inside. To my living brothers, my dead brother, and all the pain we’re trying to pretend isn’t fucking gutting us all.

  Chapter Six

  Alayna

  I should definitely leave now. There’s no pretending I didn’t just witness Adam, the one who seems to loathe me on the spot, breaking over Declan. The shake of his head and the anger in his glare makes me feel awful for witnessing something so personal. It’s not that I wanted to still be here, it’s just that I’m struggling to distance myself from where I know Declan is.

  It’s completely ridiculous, he’s not actually here anymore. Logically, I know this. My emotional side has yet to catch up though. Even if it’s just his lifeless body in there, it’s still the only link I have to who he was now and I find I can’t just drive away.

  There’s also the three men that knew him after me, they hold all the answers to who he was after we were torn apart. It kills me to admit, but I only knew teenage Declan, not the man he grew up to be. There’s an incessant need inside of me to learn everything I can about him and those three are my ticket to those answers. There’s nothing I can get from them right now though, not with a funeral home full of people and what’s left of Dec on display.

  Tomorrow, after the funeral because I can’t deal with a crowd of mourning people, I’ll get the answers I need.

  Starting up my car finally, I pull out of my spot, catching a glimpse of a young man smoking behind a tree about twenty feet in front of me. Something about him seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t place my finger on what it is. Either way, the way he’s staring at my car sends a shudder of revulsion down my spine. My danger alarm in my head is blaring over him.

  Shaking my head, I drive out of the parking lot, away from Declan, away from his three odd friends that hold all the information I want, and away from the creepy fuck probably looking to attack vulnerable people in mourning.

  The silence of the car is starting to grate on my nerves, my hand automatically flicking my music on, a melancholy song starting over the speakers. I need music to take away the silence that only seems to make the demons in my mind scream louder. I can’t let those demons get a foothold or it’ll take me weeks to fight them back again.

  Music is how I release my overwhelming emotions as well as the demons that haunt my subconscious. My music needs change based on my emotions, each one needing to be expressed in a different way. Since finding out about Dec it’s been soft and alternative rock for me. Their voices and instrumentals are the perfect outlet for me. Right now, Gone Too Soon by Daughtry is crooning over my speakers, making my eyes tear up as the music says what I wish I could voice to Declan.

  This is the type of cleansing I need, the musical kind. The songs express how I’m feeling in a way that I’ve never been able to do. They put into words and instrumentals the feelings that rush through me. When I move and sing with their masterpiece, it feels like it’s me telling the world how I feel. It was one of the things Declan and I bonded on. We both knew how much music speaks for our souls.

  The difference was that Declan could do what these artists are doing. He was so good at creating songs from nothing more than a feeling or daydream. I always loved laying beside him as he strummed out the chords on his beat up guitar in the park. He stuck out his tongue when he was stuck on a spot or he would bite his bottom lip when he finally figured it out.

  Watching Declan in those moments, the person he was meant to be shining through, made me fall in love with him. He was my protector while we were in that house, and I loved him for that as well, but those stolen moments where I got to see who he would be without all the pain, it was what sealed it for me. No one was as pure as he was in those moments and purity was rare in my life.

  Somehow I make it back to the motel on autopilot, my mind swimming with memories of Declan. Twilight distorts the sky as the sun sets, leaving us with nothing but the pink and purple streaks of final light. Those will fade soon as well with only darkness left to take over. I’ve come so far in fighting my irrational fear of twilight, but with the pain of my past and Declan so fresh in my mind, that shiver of fear snakes through me just like it did all those years ago.

  My lungs suck in deep pulls of air as I count to three in my mind, working up the nerve to make the mad dash from my car to the door only fifteen feet in front of me. Mentally kicking myself for being weak, I step out of the car as normally as I can, my movements slightly jerky as I do. This is easy, there’s nothing to fear, no one is waiting for me in the shadows.

  A door bangs open a few rooms down from mine, making me jump and swing towards the noise, my fists clenched in front of me. The air releases from my lungs as I see a woman, no older than my twenty seven, with light blonde hair pulled tightly into a bun and a cart of cleaning supplies behind her. She turns to me, smiling softly as she walks to the room right beside mine.

  “You can just skip the room after,” I call out, my voice surprisingly calm sounding for the tornado of anxiety inside of me. “It’s my room and I’ve barely done more than drop my stuff.”

  “Awesome! Thank you for letting me know.” She pauses, looking back at me with a contrite expression. “Normally we don’t clean the rooms this late, I’m sorry if I make any noise as I do the two rooms on either side of you.”

  “That’s okay,” I assure her, an easy smile sprouting on my lips. “Life happens.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” she responds, an exhausted laugh coming from her. Her face is turned down in a frown that makes my heart hurt for her. I try to avoid interacting with most people, I’m not that easy to get along with, but sometimes I can’t help myself. My heart feels for this woman who looks so emotionally and physically drained.

  “Are you okay?” I murmur as I get to my door. She hasn’t moved an inch, her shoulders slumped over as she stares blankly into the dark room in front of her.

  That seems to shake her out of whatever rabbit hole her thoughts decided to take her down, a small, tired smile pulling at her mouth. She turns to me, her tired brown eyes taking me in for a moment before she bursts into tears.

  “Hey,” I whisper, stepping closer to her. “What’s going on?”

  “My boyfriend left me a month ago,” she cries, her head cradled in her hands. “We have a four month old baby girl and I’m just so tired. My mom is helping enough that I can come here and go to work so we can still eat, but I’m up with her every two to three hours at night still. Today she was late coming over so I was late getting here. I’m so far behind and I need to get home soon to take care of my little girl, I never miss bedtime for her. She’s the light of my life and I feel like I’m failing her.”

  “How many rooms do you have left to do?”

  “Just the four left on this strip, excluding yours.” She sniffles, looking up at me in confusion.

  “Give me the cart and get home to your little one.” I grab the master key she still has hanging in her hand. “I’ll finish up these rooms and you can come pick up the key and cart from me tomorrow or I can put it back where you got it.”

  “Why?” Her voice is shocked and soft as she continues to stare at me, her eyes not even blinking. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because that precious little girl of yours deserves to have every moment she can with the mother that loves her unconditionally. I can see the sacrifice you’re making,” I say softly, my eyes filling with tears to match the ones falling down her cheeks. “You aren’t failing just because that deadbeat left you to do the job of two parents. I don’t know you, but the love you feel for her shines out of you. You can do this, you just need a little help. Let me help.”

  “You have no idea what this means to me.” She steps forward, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. My one hand pats her on the back, my lack of physical touch making me awkward as fuck. When she steps back he
r face is lighter, like a weight was lifted just a little bit. “I’m Juliette.”

  “Alayna.” Stepping back, I put some space between us to avoid any further touching and smile politely.

  “Well, Alayna.” She smiles shyly, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make this up to you, but I will find a way.”

  “It’s no problem.” I wave off her gratitude, I’m not doing it for that. “Now, get going. You have a sweet baby to see.”

  Juliette looks at me with tears shining in her eyes and a beaming smile before she runs off to her car. I unlock my door and drag in the cleaning cart. My funeral best isn’t going to work for cleaning these four rooms. Tossing the clothes on my bed for now, I change into my faded black, almost grey jeans and black ribbed tank top. Taking one the hair ties out of my toiletry bag, I toss my hair into a quick braid and consider myself ready.

  The cart is still fairly stocked, thankfully, so I quickly get to work on the first room. Cleaning has always been therapeutic to me, the simple repetitive motions soothe me while the single minded goal of getting things spotless eases my anxiety. When I first moved in with Melinda I was a mess. It was so hard for me to do anything at all, even getting out of bed was a chore. She taught me to take things one step at a time, plan a simple goal, achieve it, and move on to the next.

  Surprisingly, it helped push back the depression and ease the anxiety I was feeling. Having a clear goal like being clean and then having the plan to do it, such as showering, helped a lot. It was seeing the end results though, that helped the most. It made me feel accomplished and realize there weren't any unknowns to fight. We moved from showering and eating to cleaning certain rooms of the house or reading a book in small sections. Cleaning then became the task I clutched onto when my world or mind started spiralling.

  My world definitely feels like it’s spiralling right now. Everything I thought would happen, the magical happy ending I allowed myself to wish for, crashed the moment Rhys told me Dec was gone. I planned too big this time, I allowed myself to wish for too much. That only ever leads to pain and I fucking know that. The naive little girl that still lives inside me took over though, leaving me vulnerable and allowing my heart to be completely obliterated.

  Clean the room. Finish the windows and mirror, watch how it shines when you’re done.

  Melinda’s voice in my head soothes me, the lull of the clean pulling me out of my own mind. The rooms fly by after that, each task dulling my overwhelming emotions a little bit more. By the time all four rooms are done, I’m ready to fall asleep.

  Pulling the cart and keys into my room, since Juliette never gave me an answer on that, I strip down to just my tank top and boy short panties. Shaking out my medication into my hand, I count out the four pills I take every night around ten o’clock. It’s my normal break time at the bar and my bedtime when I’m not working. They keep me as sane as they can, my coping mechanisms do the rest. Medication, therapy, and a healthy outlet, the three things that keep me a semi-functioning adult.

  Grabbing my phone to set an alarm, I check for any missed messages. There’s only a simple all is well from Rachel letting me know that the bar is doing okay. After sending a quick reply, I plug it in on the bedside table and climb under the worn, thin covers of the bed. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to remember the good times I had with Dec. We may have been brought together in the pits of hell, but we made our own heaven despite it all.

  Images of him singing to me, his crappy guitar clutched in his hands, or us on the roof under the moon, Dec explaining all of the constellations while I studied him instead, run through my mind. A tear escapes my eye as I start crying once more over the love I lost, this time more of a sappy mourning than the devastation from earlier. He broke up the darkness of my past, I wish I could have brought that same light to his future. That’s nothing more than a fool’s wish now, because I failed him.

  I was too late.

  Chapter Seven

  Alayna

  My eyes feel crusted shut the next morning, the tears having dried in my eyelashes as I fell asleep. Rubbing my hands down my face, I groan at the incessant headache I can feel settled just behind my eyes. It’s going to be a long ass day.

  My dreams last night were filled with different versions of Declan’s funeral. It was a compilation of a million different ones, each one more disturbing than the last. The one that freaked me out the most was me walking into his funeral to find it completely empty. When I walked down the aisle between the pews, there was that photo of Dec again right at the end. I slipped past it, my heart pounding as I stepped up to the casket only to find my own face staring back at me. I spun around, trying to figure out what was going on, but I was no longer at the funeral, I was being buried in a deep hole.

  Dreams are insights into our minds, but there is no fucking way I’m picking apart what that dream means right now. Glancing at my phone, I release a groan when I see it’s six o’clock in the morning. My alarm isn’t set to go off for another three hours, but I already feel alert which means attempting to fall back asleep is a waste of time.

  Swinging my legs out of bed, the scratchy, cold carpet beneath my feet makes me grunt like the sophisticated woman I am. There’s no reason for the weird brown carpet to be this damn cold though. It’s summer for fuck’s sake, that means warmth and sun not cold ass floors. Plus, isn’t it known that carpet is supposed to make things warmer, not colder?

  My combat boots sit not far from the bed, so I slip them on and rush to the bathroom to relieve my screaming bladder. The mirror in the bathroom extends so you can conveniently watch yourself as you do your business on the porcelain throne, what a wonderful design. Not.

  My eyes are red and puffy from my crying fest last night and my face looks pale despite my olive toned complexion. There’s black smudges around my eyes as well as on the side of my nose from my makeup that I never took off. Waterproof, my ass.

  After washing my hands, I scrub my face with water and a washcloth to make myself look less like an extra from Mad Max and more like me. My hair also happens to look like a bird took up residence in my bun, the tossing and turning from my dreams really did a number on it. Staring at my reflection, I sigh in defeat at the sight I see. I just look like the lost, broken girl I’ve fought so hard to move away from.

  Dropping my head into my hands, I search for that inner strength that Melinda always said I have. It’s nowhere I can see, just like it always has been. I’ve been faking the badass, take-no-shit woman for so long, but that’s all it’s ever been, a ruse. Fake it until you make it and all that shit. The problem is, I don’t know that I’ll ever not be this broken person. My body is a wasteland of pain, self-loathing, and bitterness. Strength is just the thing I make everyone else think I have.

  Walking away from the person in the mirror, I head back to the bed to check my phone again. The paper with Rhys’ phone number on it falls out of the case on my phone when I unplug it from the charger. The stupid thing is so destroyed, I really should be getting a new one.

  The number lays on the ground in front of me, it’s presence seems to scream at me. My hands shake as I pick it up and examine the choppy handwriting from Rhys. Unlocking my phone, I add him to my contacts quickly and type out a message before I chicken out. Part of me wants to run away from his offer to go through Dec’s stuff because I know it’s going to bring me pain. However, a bigger part of me, the logical part, knows that I need this in order to get closure.

  Me: Hey, Rhys. It’s Alayna.

  Short and sweet, that’s what I’m going for. I really don’t want to come off too needy or demanding with Dec’s friends since they hold what I need. The problem with that though, is I just sent a text at quarter after six in the fucking morning. Reminder to self, remember the damn time when you want to send a text that doesn’t come off badly. This looks like I’m just waiting around waiting for them to let me into his stuff. Not to mention he’s most definitely still sleeping since he has the funeral to attend today.