Chapter Three

 

Rory

 

When Krew dropped off Samson the previous night, I didn’t know what to expect. I had no experience with animals. Never grew up with one; never desired to own one. Samson was Krew’s baby, and it was clear from the moment they arrived that it would be more than the walk in the park he’d promised. Feeding him and cleaning his shit was only the beginning. Samson was used to a lot of attention. If I thought Krew’s frilly nicknames and excessive drama was bad when he addressed average people, it was nothing compared to how he spoke with his cat.

Monday morning when I’d crawled into bed, Samson assumed he was more than welcome to join me. I’d spent the following eight hours tossing the cat onto the floor every time I rolled over, and somehow, I still managed to wake up with a face full of fur at four o’clock Monday afternoon.

“Give me back my pillow, you furry brat. I don’t even share my bed with Krew, what makes you special?”

When Samson refused to budge, I sighed and pulled myself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed while I tried to wake up. It was too fucking soon to get up, but it was obvious the cat was going to be a pain in the ass. Because of my disliking for daylight, I’d long ago trained my body to the opposite schedule most people kept. As the sun set, my day began. As the night drew to an end, I hid under my covers until it returned.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and shuffled to the bathroom down the hall. There was a text from Krew which I opened and read before taking a piss.

How is my sweet sugar baby doing?

I barely contained an eye-roll as I dropped my phone on the counter. Speaking of sweet sugar babies, Samson slinked between my legs as I took a leak, officially reminding me I no longer had any privacy.

“I’m fucking pissing. Are you for real?” I moved him aside with my foot—only sort of gently. “Leave me alone, I’ll feed you in a minute.”

When I finished, I washed and ran a toothbrush over my teeth before wandering to the kitchen as I shot a text back to Krew. I knew he was asking about his cat, but I thought I’d be a dick.

I’m doing great, thanks for asking. Was too afraid to jerk off this morning, in case your dumb cat thought I was waving a toy at him and attacked my junk, but you know. Fan-fucking-tastic. Is the painting done yet?

In the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee and opened a can of food Krew had left for his sweet sugar baby. The beast meowed the moment the wretched stench hit the air. It was enough to make me gag, and I held the can at arm's length as I upended it in a bowl and mashed it up with a fork.

“This stuff reeks. I can’t believe you fucking eat it.”

Samson was practically climbing my leg when I put the bowl down. He tucked into his food and didn’t come up for air until it was finished, no longer caring about me. My phone pinged as I found my smokes in the living room and flopped on the couch to light up.

I almost choked on my coffee, you dick. If my ass didn’t satisfy you, which I know is a fucking lie because my ass is amazing, then have a shower and deal with the problem. FYI cats hate water.

I drew deep on my smoke and chuckled at his sass. Krew was one of a kind. Before I could answer, another message came through.

I’m coming over after work. Probably be there around midnight. I need to talk to you about something.

That second message made my hackles rise, and I sat forward on the couch and stared at my phone as I ashed my smoke. Balancing my cigarette between fingers, I scowled and typed a reply.

Talk about what?

My coffee pot beeped as I waited for him to get back to me. I butted into the ashtray and wandered back into the kitchen, a thread of anxiety brewing in my gut. Samson had finished his meal and was busy cleaning himself like the neurotic animal he was.

I stepped around him and poured a mug of coffee before heading to my computer as Krew’s answer came through.

I may have made a phone call today, and I have information for you.

“For fuck’s sake.” I could already guess what that meant, considering our chat on Saturday night. He couldn’t leave well enough alone.

As my pulse increased, I flicked the power button on my computer and began typing a response, allowing my irritation to shine through in my wording. Before I completed my message, Samson came back into the living room and decided to weave between the heavy curtains which covered the balcony’s sliding door. He nudged the drapes aside enough for a bright ray of early evening sunshine to slice into the room unexpectedly. In a panic, I dropped my phone.

A sheen of sweat broke over my skin as I shielded my eyes and ducked away from the assault. My heart jumped into my throat as static coated and burned my skin. I couldn’t move. My limbs went rigid as my brain shifted into lockdown. I wanted to get away from it, but I was fucking paralyzed with fear. Even my words wouldn’t come out right when I tried to yell at the cat.

It was brief, only seconds worth of an intrusion before Samson wandered back into the room and the curtain fell into place again, but it was enough time for me to have been rendered completely helpless. Curled against the wall beside my desk with my arms wrapped around my head, it took another half a dozen minutes for a small sense of safety to return. Even then it was slight.

When I could lift my head again, I rubbed at my bare arms. They tingled with remnants of pain. It was fading, but not fast enough. Sitting in only my boxer briefs, my skin too exposed for my liking, I tried desperately to refocus and regain control.

Trembling, I stood on unsteady feet and wobbled on shaky legs to the bedroom to find something to wear. Jeans and a hoodie suited me fine. Anything to keep me covered. Despite the lack of illumination in my apartment, I adorned my shades as well, needing another layer of darkness surrounding me to help calm my nerves.

When I returned to my desk, I sat in my swivel desk chair and searched for the stupid cat. He was curled up on the couch fast asleep.

“Good. Stay there, you little shit.”

Fishing my phone off the floor, I read through the message I’d been in the process of typing to Krew.

You need to mind your fucking business. I’m fine, and I don’t need some fucking head doc…

I erased it all and stared at the blank message box for another minute, my nerves still jumping around unsettled. Eventually, I replied with a simple ok instead and threw my phone across the room.

Fear turned to anger. I hated being so debilitated, and I fucking loathed the idea of being so bad I needed help.

I had a little over seven hours before Krew would be there, so I made myself busy with work for a bit until it got dark outside, then, I relocated onto the balcony for a while for fresh air and to think. Samson pawed at the sliding glass door and meowed, asking to join me, but I didn’t know if his kitty brain was smart enough not to jump over the railing. Krew would kick my ass if I let his cat commit kitty suicide.

Around ten, I suffered through more work, unable to keep focused for longer than short intervals. I was constantly hopping up and pacing for no reason whatsoever. A little past midnight, there was a knock at my door, and Krew let himself in without waiting for me to answer. He was dressed in his all black work clothes, every piece skin tight and accentuating his assets.

Ditching his jacket over the back of the couch, he clicked on the low light which sat on the end table making me flinch at the assault before he flopped down beside Samson.

“Hi, baby boo,” he cooed as he scratched the furry brat behind the ears. “I missed you. Yes, I did. So, so much. Is Rory being a good daddy?”

For the first time since Samson had been dropped off, the cat purred and rolled onto his back, stretching and begging for attention which Krew obliged.

“You want a beer?” I asked, ignoring the disgusting display of affection he was showing his cat. Animal lovers were all the same, and I didn’t understand it.

“Love one. Can we get food? I’m starving.”

It was then when Krew actually bothered to take note I was also in the room. He peered up from his nest on the couch as I stood to head to the kitchen, and he instantly frowned as he shuffled upright.

“Woah, stop that sexy ass right there.”

He bounced off the couch and was in front of me before I could react. The concern on his face was the kind I never liked to see. It was the same shit I avoided because it was laced with all those emotions I didn’t want people to have when it came to my situation. I didn’t know why it was there until he reached out and slid my sunglasses off my face.

I squinted into the dimly lit room as he studied me.

“Sugar, what’s going on? You only ever wear these inside when it’s a bad day.”

“Well, then I guess you have your answer.” I tried to grab my glasses back, but he held them out of reach, pressing a palm to my chest to still me. His concern intensified, and I huffed in frustration, knowing I wouldn’t get away with avoiding him. Krew could be a huge pain in my ass.

“The cat knocked the curtains aside before the sun went down. I just…” I shook my head, hating having to explain my sudden loss of control. “It was unexpected. I just had a moment. It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, and it certainly wasn’t a moment considering I’d been feeling the aftereffects all night. My focus was shot, and I’d only managed to work in short increments.

Krew knew enough not to push, and once he was done studying me, he gave me back my shades. I slipped them on and pivoted to the kitchen.

“Do you want to go get some fresh air instead?” he suggested. “We can swing by the pizza place, and I can run in and grab us a few slices.”

Krew knew the value of getting me out of the house, and his suggestion released a pressure inside my chest I didn’t know had been building. I nodded when the emotions climbing my throat threatened to overwhelm me. There was no way in hell I would allow that vulnerability to show. It’d happened enough around Krew, and when it happened, he took it as his chance to go all caregiver on me. I hated it.

Shifting past him, I grabbed my pack of smokes and went to find my jacket by the door. Behind me, I listened to Krew tell Samson where we were going and that we’d be back soon, as though the cat somehow understood.

I laced up my runners and followed Krew into the hallway, tugging up the hood of my hoodie to block out the assaulting overhead lighting. Once I’d locked up, I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my coat, and we darted to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time. The light wasn’t as bright as the elevator, and Krew knew I preferred taking the back way out of the building since it exited into a dark alley rather than a brightly lit main road.

In the alley, we walked side by side at a much slower pace. We kept to the darker streets as we made our way to a late-night pizza joint we both loved a few blocks away. I lit a smoke as we walked, letting the old habit calm my inner shakes. Krew had once told me he could tell how bothered I was by the amount I smoked. That observation had stayed in the back of my mind and made me self-conscious every time I lit up, but I couldn’t do anything to thwart his assessment. He was right, and I knew it.

“I called that counseling center today.” His words were tentative and soft. I’d been waiting for him to drop that bomb.

“I figured. And let me guess, they told you the same thing everyone else does.”

He didn’t answer for a minute, and when I chanced a look in his direction, his lips were puckered to the side. It was his thinking face.

“Well, no, not exactly.”

Before we headed out onto a more lit-up street, I stopped walking and tugged him back by the arm. “What do you mean? Just spit it out and quit hedging.”

Being shorter than my five feet eleven inches, he had to look up to meet my eyes, and he did so through thick lashes. “I explained the situation and was kinda passed around until I spoke with the head of their department. Some guy name Stanley Polaris. Anyhow, he listened and understood what I was telling him about how you can’t go out in the day and how bright lights cause panic attacks.”

“They’re not panic attacks,” I snapped. I fucking hated my issues being on display to complete strangers, and the idea of Krew nonchalantly telling everyone about them grated on my nerves.

“Tom-a-to, tom-ah-to. Anyhow, he said they don’t normally send counselors to do house calls on the midnight shift, but he was willing to try and sort something out for you considering your circumstance. They don’t like people not receiving the care they need.”

Whatever it was about the way Krew described my problem made me grind my teeth, growl, and pace the end of the alleyway. “Christ, you made me sound like a fucking headcase.”

“I didn’t. I stated facts.”

“I’m not that bad.”

Krew flinched and crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his hip in the way he had that showed his full-fledged attitude. “Excuse me? Do we really wanna go there, sugar?”

“Don’t start.”

Before I could push off one alley wall to storm to the one adjacent, Krew shoved me against the bricks and got right in my face. “Listen, sweetheart, I love you, you know I do, but take a good hard look at yourself and say that again. We’ve only known each other two years, and it’s been a steady decline. Rory, you can’t even handle incandescent bulbs anymore or at least anything brighter than a twenty-watter. You can’t shop, you can’t bank, you can hardly be social. I’m terrified of where you’ll end up in another two years if you don’t find some help.”

He lifted his hands and threaded fingers through the hair on the back of my head, immediately massaging my scalp and calming my nerves. He forced me down until my forehead rested against his shoulder and he continued to speak, softer and with less of an edge.

“Baby, do yourself a favor. I know you don’t want to live like this. I get it, talking about that shit in your past is hard. Exposing yourself goes against the grain for you, but maybe you can get help. Maybe you can get back a more normal life. Your mind is eating you alive.”

I wanted to fight and deny everything he said, but deep down, I knew he was right. Before Krew, I wasn’t as bothered by artificial lighting. Going to the store was uncomfortable, but not debilitating. When I was given the option of allowing Krew to take on those harder chores, it had facilitated my decline. Without either of us realizing it, he’d enabled me to hide where I was most comfortable; in complete darkness. Moderately difficult situations became nearly impossible until I’d reached the point where I was at.

I allowed him to mother hen me for a short time without responding. Once I’d had enough, and my ego was sufficiently bruised, I shoved him away and headed out of the alley and down the road toward the pizza joint.

It wasn’t long before he caught up, and the subject was mutually understood to be over. Krew ran inside the shop to buy our food, and I stayed in the shadows at the side of the building, studying the dark street from behind my sunglasses. There was comfort in the obscurity of the nighttime hour and more if I added proper attire to dampen it further.

For a moment, I lowered my shades to see how I felt that evening. My muscles involuntarily tensed, and I held my breath as I scanned the streets. The lampposts were fluorescents, and I automatically squinted, the instinct ingrained so deep it was impossible not to. In less than a minute, a familiar discomfort crawled over my skin, so I fixed my glasses back in place and leaned heavily against the brick wall at my back.

Krew joined me a few minutes later with a couple of slices of pizza each. We ate in silence as we wandered the darker roads, heading nowhere in particular. After we’d finished and found a bench in a secluded park to sit, I could tell Krew was fighting the urge to bring up the taboo subject once again.

Before he could jump back in with more concerning tales of how I’d changed over the past two years, I cut him off. “What do I have to do?”

He visibly relaxed as he leaned back on the bench. “I have a contact number for this guy. I told him I’d talk to you and hopefully convince you to call. He can’t set up any meetings until you approve it, but he said he had an idea and to give him until Thursday afternoon before calling him. If you want help,” he tacked on, side-eyeing me.

“How the fuck am I going to share all this with some stranger who randomly shows up at my house. I can barely talk about it with you. Trust is not my forte, you know that.”

“They’re professionals. I just want to see you try. I can be there if you want.”

I snapped my head around and narrowed my eyes. “No! It’s bad enough talking to one fucking person. And I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”

Krew held his hands up in a placating manner. “I was just offering. Relax.”

I sighed and pulled out my pack of smokes, turning it in my hands but not opening it. My insides were jittery again, and I knew it would be best to stop the conversation before it escalated. Small doses were all I could handle. I had no fucking clue how I was going to manage therapy sessions and laying out my life.

“Text me his name and number. I’ll think about it.”

He didn’t respond, but I knew he heard me. While I watched the empty park, lit only by the moonlight, I tried to remember a time before my life was turned upside down. Those days when I could function in daylight weren’t necessarily any better in retrospect. I’d traded one hell for another. Even though I’d grown stronger and more self-confident in certain areas over the past six years, the sacrifices I’d made to get there were hardly worth it.

Fuck, I hated my life.

I yanked a cigarette from the pack then balanced it between my lips while I dug out my lighter. Flicking the wheel, I brought a flame to life and cupped my hand around the smoke to cut the wind while I lit it. As I drew the first calming lungful, Krew’s fingers found the back of my head.

It pissed me off and soothed me at the same time. As much as I wanted to pull away, I didn’t.

“Come on, sugar, let’s walk back to your place.”

We went in silence, and once in my apartment, Krew took my hand and guided me to the bedroom. Inside the room, I tugged him to a stop, and he swung around to face me. Before I could lie and tell him I was fine, he cut me off.

“You’re lost in the darkness again, sweetheart. Let me help you forget.”

It wasn’t the answer to my problem, it was simply a poor excuse for a Band-aid, and Krew knew it. Fucking away my frustrations helped temporarily, but the following day, it would all be back. It always came back.

 

* * *

 

Thursday, I woke to an alarm I’d set for three in the afternoon. The director of the counseling center was apparently in his office until four, so I wanted to ensure I had plenty of time to pull my shit together and make the call I’d promised myself I’d make.

I’d finally trained Samson to stay off my pillow while I slept, but that just meant he found another part of the bed to curl up on. When he noticed me awake, he jumped off the bed and did his routine morning kitty stretches and followed me to the bathroom. Until I found him his food, he wouldn’t leave my side. I hated to admit, I was getting used to the ball of fur.

Once his belly was satisfied, and my coffee was brewing, I settled on the couch with a smoke while I examined the small post-it note where I’d written the information Krew had given me. Every time I considered what I was doing, my stomach roiled and skin prickled. Krew’s reminder of how much my life had changed in two years spun on an endless loop through my mind, and I couldn’t shake it free.

“Fuck.” I washed a hand over my face as I watched the cat wander from the kitchen and sit nearby to clean himself.

I finished my smoke and immediately lit another as I grew the balls to make the call. Samson finished his bathing and wandered toward the balcony curtains.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I snarled.

Hearing the snap in my voice, he reconsidered. We’d gone over his window obsession all week, and he finally understood they were off limits—at least until the sun went down. He meowed with indignation and disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom.

“Stay away from the window in there, too, you brat.”

Alone again, I stared at the paper in my hand and puffed on my cigarette. Stanley Polaris. Director of Dewhurst Point Counseling Center.

“Fine. You think you can help me, buddy? We’ll see.”

I butted out my smoke, inputted the number into my cell, and connected the call. My heart raced as I listened to the ringing on the other end. Deep down, I willed my call to go unanswered. No luck. On the third ring, a cheery voice told me I’d reached the reception desk. I asked for the guy’s extension and was immediately transferred.

Before the second ring, a deep, burly voice picked up.

“Stan Polaris. How can I help you?”

I cleared my throat and spoke through the swelling lump lingering within. “Hey… umm… the name’s Rory. Rory Gallagher. My friend was talking to you on Monday and gave me this number. Told me to give you a call.”

“Mr. Gallagher. Good afternoon. I was hoping to hear from you. How are you doing today?”

Were we seriously going with casual chit-chat? I didn’t have the patience for that shit. Didn’t he know how hard it was for me to make the call to begin with?

“Umm… Fine, I guess.”

He seemed to sense my unease and didn’t force me to continue. “You have a pretty great friend looking out for you.”

Yeah, sure I did.

“As much as he’s shared, it would be better if I hear directly from you what kind of help you might be looking for. Our services are quite diverse compared to other locations, so like I told your friend, I hope we can work something out to fit your needs.”

I breathed through my nose for a minute, coaching myself to stay on the line, even though all I wanted to do was hang up.

“I don’t really know what I need, to be honest. All I know is I’ve got some issues, and they aren’t going away on their own.”

“I understand.”

No, you don’t, buddy. You have no fucking clue.

“Your friend, Krew, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“He explained that you are unable to be outside during the daylight hours. He also said sessions inside our building wouldn’t work for you because the lighting would be uncomfortable. Is this accurate?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, hating Krew more and more. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Like I told Krew, off-premise counseling isn’t something we generally provide after five in the evening, but I’ve been given to understand you don’t keep the same waking schedule as most and that a daytime appointment might be difficult. However, we try hard to be accommodating to special needs.”

I worked hard to hold my tongue, grinding my teeth so I wouldn’t tell him to fuck off. I hated being labeled and categorized.

“If this is something you want to pursue, Mr. Gallagher, I think I may have sorted out a solution.”

He paused. It was my turn to agree. If I didn’t own up to needing help, I wouldn’t get it. It was the first time anything had been available, and I knew, despite my resentment toward the whole idea, if I didn’t follow through, I’d be sorry.

“Yeah… I need to do something.”

There was a shuffling of papers on the other end of the phone before Mr. Polaris spoke again. “All right, here’s what I’m going to do. I have a brand-new counselor onboard with us. Extremely smart kid, fresh out of school. He’ll be working the graveyard shift starting next week. I’ll speak with him and set him up for an introductory session for next Monday, how does that sound? He’ll come and go over some information, do an assessment, and you two can discuss what you think you need in terms of therapy.”

Why did it not surprise me that I’d be stuck with some new guy? For about the hundredth time since Krew brought up the whole idea, I cursed him under my breath.

“Yeah, sure. What time Monday?”

“His shift is from eleven at night until seven in the morning. How about I start his night off with you and cut down his traveling time a bit. First meetings generally last a little longer than most because we like to gather some basic information for your file. So, let’s plan for eleven until roughly one in the morning. Give or take.”

I begrudgingly agreed and gave the man my contact information so the new guy could get a hold of me. The minute I was off the phone, I sent Krew a text.

I hate you so fucking much right now.

It didn’t take long before I got a response.

You called him! Sweetheart, this is a good thing. Trust me.

Krew was about the only person in the whole world I trusted, so despite my jitters and pounding heart, I tried to focus on the positive.

And if it all goes to shit?

Without missing a beat, his answer pinged.

Then I’ll be there.