Quintessentially Q

Cracking open the laptop, I read Brax’s message.

From: Brax Cliffingstone

Time: 2:25 p.m.

To: Tess Snow

Hi! Thought I’d touch base and make sure things are okay? Haven’t heard back from you so I’m hoping you’re still alive. (bad joke) Anywho… Bianca and I have officially started going out and I want you to be as happy as me, so let’s get this show on the road. What do you need? Anything? Do you need some Aussie stuff sent over? I’m sure the French food has got to be crap after our award-winning pies.

Message me back.

Brax

I sighed. How much I wanted to laugh. To be a human again, but to share in happiness I had to let the guilt rip me apart. I just couldn’t do it.

I existed in a rigid coldness. And for now, that was the way it had to be. Maybe forever.

Me: I do miss marmite, I admit.

Brax: Eww, gross. That stuff is nasty. Vegemite rules.

Me: Yuck.

How could I joke and pretend to be normal when I felt zero?

Brax: So…how you feeling?

Me: Okay.

Brax: Just okay?

Me: Still empty.

Brax: What would it take to make you whole again?

Me: That’s the problem. I don’t think it’s fixable.

Brax: That doesn’t sound like the Tessie I know.

Me: You never really knew me, Brax.

Me: I’m sorry. That was harsh.

Brax: No, I get it. I didn’t. Not really. But only because you never talked to me. You sprang it on me and I acted like an ass.

Me: It was my fault. I never knew what I wanted.

Brax: And now you do. You want that man that you ran half-way across the world to see.

Me: I used to.

Brax: You will again.

I stopped typing, waiting for an unfurling of hope that Brax was right. That this cold emptiness would soon be filled with light and love again, but nothing happened. I looked around Q’s bedroom and suddenly the need to leave was overwhelming.

I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t be this invalid any longer.

Me: If I said I was coming back to Australia. What would you say?

Brax: I’d say you always had a place to sleep and Bianca and I will help you with whatever you need.

I smiled. I had no intention of gate-crashing their new romance. No one wanted an ex-girlfriend sleeping on the couch. I’d go somewhere else. It didn’t matter where. I didn’t care.

Suzette appeared, coming toward the bed. She carried a plate with a smoked salmon bagel and some iced tea. “Lunch. I hope you’re hungry.” Her eyes fell to the blinking message from Brax. She froze, skimming the text.

She shook her head, giving me a heart-stopping look of betrayal. “You’re giving up so easily?”

“It’s not what you think, Suzette.”

She slammed the plate on the bed. “What do you mean it’s not what I think? It’s in black and white.” She tapped the screen with an angry finger. “You’re thinking of leaving! After everything. After everything, Tess. You’re just going to leave!” She breathed hard, visibly bringing her sharp temper under control. “I get it. I really do. It took me years to get over what happened and I know you need more time. But you need to stay around people who love you.”

I hung my head. “Time won’t help. Something’s happened to me. I’ll never be free unless I let myself suffer what I’ve done. And if I let myself suffer, I won’t survive the memories. If you knew what I did, Suzette…” My voice dwindled and for the first time in days the crush of guilt managed to penetrate my tower.

I panicked, rushing to fill the crack, wrapping it thicker with chains.

The fear of what I’d done grew by the hour, trapping myself further inside my mind.

Suzette deflated. “What did they do to you? What’s made you so afraid?”

“It’s what I did to others that I can’t live with.” I was back to being vacant, thankfully free from the guilt.

“Don’t go, Tess. Stay. Q is in agony. He loves you and yet you can’t even bring yourself to touch him anymore.” She stopped, brushing away a tear. “Stay for him.”

“It’s because of him that I’m leaving. It’s not fair to torture him this way.”

She sighed, eyes flashing with pain. “I suggest you think on your decision, because the moment you step out the door and rip out my master’s heart is the day you lose me as a friend. You don’t deserve him if you leave.” She headed to the door, turning to face me one last time. “I know you’re capable of coming alive again. You just need to believe you’re strong enough.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

Am I strong enough to face the women I hurt? To allow the drug-clouded memories to hurl me into guilt and misery?

No, I’m not strong enough.

This was the only way.

*****

That night Q didn’t come to bed.

I’d grown used to falling asleep and waking up in the middle of the night to find him asleep on his stomach, fully dressed. As if he wanted to always be ready to protect me. Even in sleep, I knew he suffered headaches. The tightness around his eyes never left him. Just another way I made him suffer.

But tonight, when I woke to shuffle to the bathroom, the bed was empty.

And just like the bed, I was, too.

*****

The next day I made the decision to go.

My finger no longer hurt, only ached, and the doctor had removed the stitches in my neck. He told me Q ordered him to remove the tracker while I slept; I thanked him profusely. Having that devil thing out of my body was the first thing to give me a tiny feeling of relief.

My ribs were sore but nothing I couldn’t handle and whenever a memory or vision tried to drag me from my tower, I promptly shut it down. I’d become a master at wrapping my mind with chains and padlocks—I doubted I’d ever find a way to unlock them.

After a shower and dressing awkwardly in a pair of Q’s running shorts and T-shirt, I made my way from the room.

Shuffling down the corridor, I struggled for breath and my lungs strained with the remnants of pneumonia. The steps went on forever. I kept going, stopping occasionally until I reached the bottom. One at a time. Gentle and slow.

Maybe I wasn’t strong enough to leave. My strength was seriously depleted.

The foyer was just as I remembered with its grand entrance and sweeping staircase covered in midnight blue carpet.

My eyes popped wide as I entered the lounge to find four women sitting on the couch. Two were reading while the others had their heads bent in conversation.

The moment I appeared they all stopped and faced me.

Suzette slammed to a halt when she appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray of drinks. “Tess.” Her voice rested between cool and concerned. I gave her a quick smile.

“I had to get out of the room.” Nodding at the women, I added, “Hello.”

The girls diverted their eyes, pretending I wasn’t there.

Luckily none of them were blonde. I didn’t know what would’ve happened to my carefully constructed safety net if I’d come face to face with the girl who’d been raped by Leather Jacket.

Suzette lingered once she’d deposited the drinks on the table. Normally I would’ve fidgeted or rushed to say something to fill the silence, but I had no urge to fix the wrongness between us. All I wanted to do was be alone.

I gave her a nod, turning back the way I came.

Something crackled and popped; I froze as music rained from the speakers.

I’m a murderer, murderer, murderer. Bright blood stains my hands

I used to live for violence, violence, violence, but now I lurk alone

Forcing myself to be normal, normal, normal, trading my nature for always bland

Now I live in agony, agony, agony, left with relics, memories, nothing but bones

Q.

He’d used music to get to me before; he’d turned to it again. The songs he’d played previously made me fall in love with him. I understood his inner torment through the lyrics, guiding me to see the tortured soul he lived with.

I balled my fists as a roar of grief flattened me. I missed him. So f**king much. I wanted to hold him. Kiss him. Let him save me from my sins.

“You killed me. I’ll never fall in love. You ruined my life!” Blonde Hummingbird slammed into my mind.

“I’m sorry! I never wanted to be a murderer.”

Leather Jacket sneered. “Puta, you’ve let us in. We’ve got you now. We’re gonna make you snap.”

I scrambled, panting, dashing back into my tower. I can’t. I couldn’t do it.

More chains went around me, yet another layer of padlocks.

My love for Q disappeared beneath the weight of barricades, and I stumbled forward, drained to the point of exhaustion.

I wished there was some way to keep the bad locked up and let the love for Q free. But I couldn’t separate the good from the wrong and I wasn’t brave enough to face the worst.

Moving through the house, I didn’t think to where I headed. I just needed to move.

Passing all the photos of Q’s empire, I didn’t stop to admire. I didn’t let myself think about the future I’d had working with him before the nightmare started. The buildings no longer interested me. Property in general was no longer a passion of mine. I didn’t want to sketch or help Q with new projects.