Michael never showed back up. I waited and waited, but there’s been no sign of him. I finally gave up, and went to bed. I tossed and turned, but I must have eventually passed out, because now the bedside clock reads three in the morning. I lay here listening, stupidly getting depressed when I hear nothing. Michael’s not here. I had hoped…

It’s all so frustrating, and I have no idea what happened. I thought everything was good and then…it just wasn’t. For a minute—right before he left, it looked like he hated me. I’ve gone over everything, and I have no idea what’s going on. It’s driving me crazy. I was worried it was me, and my first instinct was to cry. Then, I got worried something else was going on and my nerves were set on end, as panic filled me. Finally, I settled into anger again. He could have at least told me what was going on. Anger is the emotion that I’m keeping with me now. I don’t know where he is, I don’t know if he’s okay and most of all…I don’t know if he’ll be back. It’s not like my track record is great with men, but I thought this time Michael was one of the good guys. Maybe those men don’t exist.

I ease out of bed. I’m still a little sore from the workout that Michael gave me yesterday. Yesterday seems like a lifetime ago. The house feels weird with no one here. It’s had so many people in it lately, that’s become the new normal. Michael not being here makes it feel really lonely—as empty as I am feeling. I also can’t lie; I’ve been scared to death that Blade will show up when I’m alone. I’ve kept my mace close by, and I’ve managed to curse Michael for taking my gun away.

If my mind doesn’t change, I’m going to use the mace on him. If I ever see him again. I make it into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I can’t help but look across the drive at the old barn. The lights are out, but I notice Michael’s truck is parked under it and his bike too. He’s back. He’s back and he didn’t come here. He didn’t even let me know. He went back to the barn. What does that mean?

I should probably let it go for the night. That would be the smart thing to do, but then when it comes to men, I’ve never been that smart. I grab a flashlight off the counter, slip my feet into some flip-flops and walk over there. I hear the frogs in the background, and somewhere in the distance, I can hear a dog barking. I should get a dog. They’re more dependable than a man. A mean, junk-yard dog, maybe I could name him Beast and when he would do something I hate, I could put him outside with only dry dogfood.

I point the light up the narrow stairs that lead to the barn loft. My body freezes because I hear a sound from behind me. It sounds like a stick breaking, as if someone stepped on it and it snapped. I whip the light around to look behind me, expecting to see Blade standing there. I know it. I can literally feel him there. Shit. I hope I get the chance to tell Michael I hate him. I don’t…but I want him to think I do if he gets me killed.

My heart is beating in my chest so hard it feels like a jackhammer. My palms are wet and my nerves are stretched. Even Maggie, who is usually asleep by now, is moving and kicking nervously. Probably feeding off my energy. “Maggie, girl, your Momma’s an idiot,” I murmur to her. I zig-zag the beam of the light, but thankfully I see nothing out there. I’m only imagining things. It was probably an animal. I’ve seen quite a few opossums out here. They stir mostly at night. Trying to calm my nerves, I walk up the stairs. I cringe as they squeak underneath me because the sound seems abnormally loud.

“Michael?” I whisper, my voice cracking. I clear my throat again, right as I make it to the top step. “Michael?” I try again, using the beam of my light to look through the room. I am about ready to give up when I see him. He’s lying on his stomach, on the couch. His legs are hanging off it a good two foot. One hand is under his chin and the other is holding a bottle that’s sitting on the floor. I lower the light to it and the amber color gives way to what the liquid inside is. I swallow, beating down the fear. I don’t like men who are drunk. I’ve seen what can happen when they are. I’ve experienced some of it. I’m about to turn around and leave, when Michael’s voice stops me.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice slurring the words, but I still understand them. He doesn’t sound mean, maybe drinking doesn’t affect him like it can others.

“I was worried about you,” I confess, “I wanted to see if you’re okay,” I add, feeling stupid. I wanted to come over here and yell and scream at him, but after seeing him, I can’t. He seems so broken, so lost, lying there like that. Whatever is going on with him, is much bigger than him being upset with me.

“I’ll never be okay again,” he says, and the sadness in his voice is so thick and heavy it could almost choke me.

Forgetting to be scared, or even angry, I walk to him. I move the bottle out of his hand, putting it out of the way. Then, I kneel down, taking his now empty hand and holding it with both mine. I don’t say anything. Honestly, I’m not sure what to say. I’m surprised when he doesn’t jerk his hand away.

“What are you doing here, Hayden?” he mumbles, moving his head to the side so he can see me.

I’ve placed the flashlight on the floor and the beam is shining across the room, so our faces are still mostly hidden in the darkness, and I’m glad. I don’t want him to see the pity in my eyes, I know he wouldn’t like it. Besides, it’s not truly pity for him, as much as I’m hurting inside at the look of pain on his face.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I was worried about you,” I whisper, lost on how to deal with this. He promised so much. Was I stupid in believing his words? What is going on with him? “Michael, we’re…I mean, I’ve grown to care for you. You had to know you would worry me. I thought we were in a relationship here.”

“I’m not a man who can do relationships, Hayden. I’m not him. I’m not really Michael,” he breathes, his eyes closing.

What do I say to that?

What does he even mean?

“Who are you really?” I dare to ask, afraid of his response.

“I’m no one. Not a person. An animal. That’s me. I’m not ever going to be the person I was in my past, Hayden,” he says, his eyes still closed, but somehow sounding more alert. “The person I used to be, I’ll never be that man again.”

“If you wanted to be, you could,” I encourage him. I don’t understand what’s going on here, all I really know is the Michael that he’s been showing me is the man I love. He’s the man I don’t want to lose.

“All I want now is to be left alone. Why can't you leave me alone? Why won't you let me die in peace?” he questions, and his eyes flutter open to stare at me accusingly.

“I don't know...I just can't seem to stay away,” I tell him, truthfully, and because my nerves are increasing, I find my thumb, rubbing back and forth on the largest scar on his hand. It might be my imagination, but it feels like he tightens his hold on me, as if he is welcoming my touch.  

"Then I'll destroy you too, Hayden. I destroy everything. Everything I touch, that I care about. I destroy.”

His words make me hurt. Is he going to tell me about Annabelle now? I want to know. I want to help him. If ever a man needed help, it would be Michael right now. I reach up and kiss his forehead, forgetting my own anger in the face of his despair, and I give him honesty again. Big honesty. Honesty that could truly destroy me.

“I wasn’t much before you came into my life, Michael. You helped me learn to breathe again. To appreciate life. I love you. The only way you could destroy me, is if you leave.”

Michael’s body stiffens. He growls under his breath and his hand tightens to bruising force. Maybe I said too much, but the words are out there, hanging between us and damning me. I can’t call them back. All I can do is hang on and see what Michael does next.