Deviation (Deviate Series) Read online

  “Nevaeh?” he calls.

  I don’t respond. He runs over to me and tries to wake me up. I can’t feel his hands on me and that’s starting to scare me. I touch my arm where his hand is and there’s nothing- no warmth, no tingling sensation, just… nothing. He tilts my head back, and presses down on my chin to open my mouth. He pinches my nose, and breathes air into me. I bring my hand up to my lips. Suddenly I can feel them on me, I can feel the spark of life ignite and he continues working on me. Then I feel myself being drawn to my body and my eyes are open to see Angel staring at me as I finally take a breath on my own.

  “What are you doing here?” That’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth? I’m stupid, so freaking stupid. No, “thank you” or “what happened.” Mortified, I look at him, and I mean really look at him. He’s absolutely stunning, and his blue eyes capture my gaze and hold it there. He looks… worried? Why would he be worried? He doesn’t even know me so why should he care? He does care though because I can see it in his eyes and he’s smiling. He laughs and says “It’s lucky that I was here and found you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now.”

  He’s absolutely right, but I still don’t feel like thanking him since I’ve been cheated out of death once again. Damn! I must be cursed to walk this earth since I can’t even die by accident. I sit up and come face to face with him. But whatever I was about to say was lost as I moved closer to him. Strangely, now all l want to do is kiss him and to have his lips on mine again, actually feeling it this time. Weird! Being around him is making me want to feel? This just can’t be good. I need to get away from him fast before he tries to “save me” again.

  I want to make sure he doesn’t so I say to him, “Did you ever think that maybe that was my intention? Maybe I don’t want to be here in this place. It may look beautiful now with all the colors of the sunset but it’s actually just a clever disguise for my own personal hell. Did you ever think that? No, of course you didn’t.” I get up and walk down to the water.

  I’m pissed at him. Actually, I’m livid, even though I have no reason to be. It’s not his fault, after all, and instead of acting like a crazy bitch, I should be thanking him. I hear him approach and just when I’m about to turn around, he places his hands on my hips again. He leans in and whispers, “We both know that wasn’t your intention.

  And even though you feel like pushing me away, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Excuse me? Just what the hell does that mean? “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Angel. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it long enough.” (Of course I haven’t. Not a good job of it anyway.)

  “Why won’t you let me help you?” He asks, seeming genuinely curious.

  Should I tell him why? If he helps me, that help always comes with expectations. “Why? I’ll tell you why. It’s because nothing comes for free. There’s always a catch. So, what’s yours, huh? You want to help me so you can fuck me whenever you want? Is that it?” I yell.

  “Do you always answer a question with a question?” he challenges.

  “Do you always evade a question with another question, Angel? What’s it to you whether I live or die anyway, drugs or no drugs?” I challenge back.

  “If we keep at this we’ll be here all night with hundreds of questions and no answers.” He states.

  That might be true, but he’s still being evasive. “So, I guess we’re at a crossroads then. Do you keep evading my questions or do you ‘man up’ and tell me what you want? What do you mean by ‘you’ll never leave my side?’ What the hell is that all about? You don’t even know me, so spare me your half-ass attempt to convince me you care.”

  Unfazed by my rant, he says, “But I do know you. Well maybe not “you” exactly, but I’ve been where you are now. I’ve lived like you- on the streets, doing whatever you have to do to score the next fix just to get through each day. Believe me when I tell you I want to help you. I know you’re better than this.” He gestures to me, “you’re beautiful, but you use that beauty to get what you want. So, you want to know what my ‘catch’ is? I’ll tell you what. If you come home with me and stay there, just so I can help you, the only thing I’ll ask for in return is that you let go of whatever negative image you have of yourself. If you can do that, if you can let go of the past, the drugs, and everything that’s been hurting you, I can and will stand by your side.”

  Oh my god! Seriously? “Do you even hear yourself right now? Do you know how totally insane you sound? You don’t know me from Eve, yet you offer your ‘services’ to help me because you’ve quote, unquote, been in my shoes?” Sorry dude but no sale. I’m all for you rehabbing yourself or whatever works for you, but maybe I don’t want to be rehabilitated. Maybe I like this path that I’m on, especially if it gets me closer to my family.” I whisper the end, momentarily letting something personal slip.

  I turn around and break his hold. I immediately miss the spread of warmth his hands caused through my body. I grab a pill from my backpack and wash it down with what’s left in the bottle. It’s not having the desired effect. I desperately need the release that comes from being in oblivion, the nothingness that resides in my soul, and my heart. The blackness is filling me up and I feel like I’m drowning. But I can’t stop it. I’d rather drown in darkness than to feel anything at all. I start packing up my stuff since it’s almost dawn. I so don’t want to be around happy people right now.

  “Nevaeh, please listen to me,” he begs, “I know it doesn’t seem like you can, or even want to do it, but what harm is there in just giving it a try?”

  You’re kidding me, right? “What can it hurt? I don’t know what you did before you became the ‘new and improved you’ or whatever, but I’m the way I am right now in this moment…” I trail off, swallowing the lump that’s formed in my throat. “I mean, the reason I’m the way I am right now is so I don’t have to feel anything! Do you get that? Are you happy now, Angel? Is that the answer you were looking for? Is it?”

  “No, that doesn’t make me happy at all. Of course it doesn’t! Don’t you realize how much potential you have? Don’t you know that you can actually be happy without the help of those?” He points to the bag that I didn’t even realize I was holding.

  “I can tell that neither one of us is going to give in, and as much as you say want to save me, this situation is really about you as much, or even more, than it is about me. Listen to me, Angel. I. don’t. Want. To. Be. Saved! Do you understand me? You don’t get to play ‘Prince Charming’. I’m not a princess and my life is about as far from a fairytale as you can get.” I stand firm crossing my arms over my chest.

  He looks at me intently. “You might be right. Everything you said might very well be true, but at least come home with me now. I just want to know you at least have a safe place to sleep. And who knows, Nevaeh? I might not be ‘Prince Charming’ and this might not be a fairytale but maybe, if you just give me a chance, it could lead to something magical,” he pleads.

  I don’t like this at all. I don’t like the way he’s trying to take responsibility for me. In fact, I tell him just that. “Angel, I’m not your responsibility. I’m a big girl and whether you think so or not, I’m totally capable of taking care of myself.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and I can tell he’s frustrated that he can’t get through to me. “Please. Just for today? This way you can at least get some sleep, food, and a shower. I swear I won’t touch you or anything and you can stay in the guest room again.”

  Ugh. He is obviously not going to let this go. “Okay, let’s say I agree to this. If I say yes, will you promise to drop everything else and not try to ‘reprogram me’ or whatever crazy things you have planned? No deep psychological probing in to what makes Neveah tick, okay? That’s not up for discussion, so don’t even try.”

  “Okay, you’ve got a deal… for now,” he says then walks away.

  I’m so frustrated with him that I take another pill and reluctantly follow him to the lot. I
follow him on my bike back to his place. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to accomplish since the one thing I pride myself on, the one thing I like about myself is that once I set my mind to something that’s it. Nobody can change it. I can’t be anything more than what I am right now, and if he thinks he can “fix” me, then he couldn’t be more wrong. I guess the best thing to do is just play along for now and let him find that out the hard way.

  Chapter 5

  His house is clean like I remembered. So clean it kind of reminds me of a hospital, well, a hospital without the smell of antiseptic and death. A big screen TV is mounted on the wall by the door. The walls have been painted a rich chocolate brown color, except for one which is painted beige, a perfect complement to the sandstone fireplace and gorgeous hardwood flooring. I’ve always been a sucker for hardwood floors. A few of my foster homes had them. They’re beautiful but it makes it harder to sneak around, tip-toeing on carpeting is much quieter.

  There’s a very earthy feel to this room. He has a creamy white couch that’s accented perfectly with a green throw blanket and solid color pillows. The table next to it is made of a tree stump with three branches extending upwards to hold a glass top. It’s absolutely gorgeous Covered in bark and moss, it looks as if it were just cut down and the green of the moss perfectly complements the couch pillows.. This room is just so stunning that I feel out of place just being here. It’s like I’m going to taint is just by my mere presence.

  It’s amazing how much I didn’t notice on my way out the other day. I was in such a hurry to leave and get to Ice that this all passed me by. I follow Angel down the hallway and notice there’s no family pictures on the wall. Hallways are usually shrines to family photos but not his. His hallway is light, the same beige color as the fireplace wall, but lacking the same warmth. The first door leads to the kitchen, which at first glance is just as elegant as the family room. It has black cabinets with glass doors and an island with a countertop that looks like white granite. I ended up learning a lot about interior decorating in my last foster home. The money they received fostering me ended up paying for the renovation of their house instead of buying me clothes and stuff. On the plus side, I learned what I liked and wanted for my own home someday. So far, this house has everything I love. “Okay, this is the room we stayed in. I call it the white room. You can stay in this one, or there’s another if you want to stay in there instead,” Angel says like it’s no big deal.

  I look in and he’s right about the white room. Everything is white, and I mean everything. The bed frame looks country-ish-- kind of like a white picket-fence. The bedding is all white, as well as the bedside tables, dressers, and entertainment center. The only actual color in the room comes from a painting of the beach on the wall and the blue throw blanket at the foot of the bed.

  “Wow. This room is pretty but also kind of depressing. It reminds me of a hospital room I stayed in once,” I laugh.

  “Well then, on to the next one,” he says, as he guides me along with a hand on the small of my back.

  I try to hold in my gasp at the feel of his touch but no luck. Praying that he didn’t hear me, I risk taking a look at him but I’m mortified to see that he did by his smirk. Damn! Before I have time to die of embarrassment we stop at the next door. When he opens it and I peek inside I’m completely speechless. This room is exactly what I would want if I had a room of my own, which, I haven’t. It’s so different from the other rooms, as if it was decorated by someone else

  The walls are painted turquoise and a black-framed bed with a white canopy top is against the wall. Covering the bed is a black and zebra print comforter with pink and zebra print throw pillows piled on top. Except for the far wall with two windows, every surface is covered by books. Shelves full of them fill every square inch of space. Reading used to be my favorite way to escape reality before I stumbled upon drugs and alcohol. A long black dresser is on the wall opposite of the bed with a flat screen TV on top, and there’s even a black make-up vanity. This room was definitely designed for a girl, so I can’t help but wonder if I’m imposing on him and a girlfriend. There’s a massive bean bag chair in the corner and suddenly I just want to curl up and lose myself in it.

  Angel walks in and walks towards the books, pushing on the wall closest to them. He motions for me to follow and when I reach him my mouth drops open. The door swings in to reveal a bathroom and walk-in closet. The bathroom is… unbelievable. It has a Jacuzzi tub, a walk in shower, double sinks, and a separate room for the toilet. It’s absolutely perfect and has the biggest closet I have ever seen. Seriously, it’s as big as a bedroom, bigger than some of the rooms I’ve lived in. Hell, it’s bigger than the piece of crap I shared with Timo.

  In the center of the closet is this island thing. I open a drawer and find matching bra and panty sets. What the hell? I look up at Angel with my eye brows raised but he just shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal. There are jeans, every kind imaginable, along with skirts, capris, and shorts. Dresses are on one side and shirts, dressy and casual attire is on the other side. And then I see them. Separating the tops from the bottoms are rows and rows of shoes: flats, tennis, heels, boots, you name it, they’re here. This makes me certain that I’m crowding in on a relationship here. I back out without another word, walk past a confused looking Angel, back down the empty hallway. Just as I’m about to open the front door, he pushes it closed.

  “Angel, just let me go,” I say with no fight left in me.

  “I will after you tell me what just happened,” his voice is strained…confused?

  What’s there to be confused about? I mean, obviously, he’s either dating someone or some chick is living with him because why else would he have a closet full of sexy lingerie, clothes, and shoes? Oh no! Could he be a cross-dresser? I cover my mouth with my hand trying to hold in the laughter, but when I see his expression, I can’t stop it from tumbling out.

  Once I can talk with out laughing, I say “Well, obviously you have a girlfriend, Angel, and I don’t want to complicate things for you two. It’s best if I just go.”

  “Nevaeh,” he chuckles, “no one lives with me. And if there was someone, I would never have offered to let you stay here. “

  “Ah, I get it. So, this must be about sex then?” I ask. I suspected that was the case but I had a glimmer of hope that he was different. Fuck, I’m starting to have hope, and that’s something I can’t afford to let happen.

  I’m still facing the door when he whips me around to face him. He’s so close that I can see the desire in his eyes. It’s the same look I saw when I first met him. I thought I imagined it then. He brings his hands up, framing my face. He looks right into my eyes, “If it was about sex…” he brings his lips to my ears, my breathing hitches and I shiver as he continues, “Nevaeh, I would already have you undressed, with your legs wrapped around me, and I’d be buried so deep inside you that leaving me would be the very last thing on your mind.”

  He takes a step back and looks at me with a sexy smirk that makes me want to pull his lips to mine and taste him. His words have me so riled up that now my imagination is running wild with those images and UGH! Shower-I definitely need a cold shower right now. I have to get our conversation back on track right now!

  “Okay, well if that’s true, then what’s with all the girly stuff in the closet?” My voice comes out raspy.

  “It’s all yours. I had a friend I work with pick out some stuff for you. I hope you don’t mind,” his voice is husky but unsure. I’m not sure whether to be pissed or excited that he thought of me. Being pissed wins out. How could he just assume I would agree to this? What gives him the right to buy shit for me? How the hell does he even know my size? I feel skanky, like he’s my sugar daddy without the sex.

  He seems to know what I’m thinking and says, “Look, It’s not like that, okay? It’s not a big deal. You were passed out and I did your laundry, remember? It was easy to check what size you wear.” Okay, that makes sense, I’ll give hi
m that but I’m still pissed he assumed I’d be okay with this little arrangement he planned. He’s not getting off that easily. “Oh so you just assumed I would be staying here? What the fuck, Angel? Here’s a news flash for you. I can’t be bought, so you can just take all that shit back because I’m out of here.”

  I’m trying to open the door and he still won’t let me. I’m two seconds away from punching him in the face when he yells, “Just stop, Nevaeh. Jesus fucking Christ it’s like the lights are on but no one’s home with you sometimes. Was I wrong to assume you would come? Yes. I did it because I hoped I would be able to find you and help you. I wanted to make you see that under all that anger is someone beautiful, and someone worth fighting for. Nevaeh, instead of hiding behind booze and drugs, you could be something so much more. Don’t you see that?”

  “No, Angel. Obviously I don’t see that. You want to know what I see every time I look in the mirror?” With his jaw clenched, he nods his head, and I feel Waves of anger rolling off him. “When I look in the mirror, all that I see is a broken girl. I see a girl who survived when she should have died, a girl who was bounced around from one foster home to another and told she was just a filthy bitch who was only good for sex. I see a girl whose dreams died a long time ago and the only thing that’s keeping me alive right now is drugs and booze.

  Happy now? Do you feel better now that you know the truth? Maybe instead of trying to find me you should’ve just stayed clear of me. Maybe death is the only direction left for me to go. Maybe I don’t want you to try and save me.

  I’m so pissed that my body is actually vibrating with anger. The need to punch something is so great, it’s exactly what I do. I punch the damn door with so much force that I hear a crack. Angel heard it too and is trying to grab my hand before I punch the door again. I know I should be crying, collapsing to the floor and writhing in pain, but I’m so angry I don’t feel the pain yet. Instead, I pull my hands away from Angel and reach into my backpack for what I need. I pop 2 Dream pills and chase them down with some Vodka.