If I Break: Beautifully Broken Part 11

I didn't.

I had no feelings about it. They were all I knew, all that I remembered. No one else was important, the past wasn't important and just like whatever happened before it, I buried deep down in no man's land.

"Killed. She was murdered?" I ask, my voice a ghost of itself. Every emotion in me seems to be on pause. I'd thought that my heart would speed up, that my breath would catch but I feel nothing.

Numb.

"She was shot," he says simply.

"By Clay Rice," I infer, putting the pieces together.

"That's what Cal believes," he replies.

"Was he ever convicted? Did he go to jail?"

"There wasn't enough evidence."

"So what happened to him?"

"After the charges were dropped he disappeared," he explains and reaches into his brief case and pulls out a flash drive.

"This is all the information that I have about the case, information about both of your parents." He is holding it out for me to take. My eyes stare at the little black drive that holds a key to my past, to a world I never knew about, or wanted to know for that matter.

"I don't want it," I tell him sternly.

"Do you think it's wise for you not to have it?" he asks smugly.

"Tell me whatever I need to know." I'm sure nothing is in there that he wouldn't want me to know anyway. I don't trust the Crestfields further than I can throw them.

"Well Christopher," he says, a little annoyed. "You should know that Cal is pretty set on killing Clay Rice, and he's coming dangerously close to doing it,"

"What?" I ask, not able to hide my anger or surprise.

"I have done my absolute best at trying to prevent that from happening. However, since Cal has not been working for me, I'm unaware who his contacts are and the fact that he told me to go f.u.c.k myself during his last excursion, it will be more difficult than it has in the past to keep him from doing so."

This is a bad dream. This is all a bad dream. He wants to kill someone. He wants to add murderer to the list with a.s.shole and jerk off?

He can't do this.

"I can't let this happen. I won't let this happen..." I let out a long grunt.

"What is wrong with him? Does he not care about going to jail, or ruining his life?" I ask in disbelief.

"He doesn't think that he'll get caught of course, Christopher."

"Right because he doesn't think. He just acts!"

"Do you not think that someone who has committed murder deserves to face some means of punishment?" he asks quizzically.

"It's not my job to punish people. He's not the judge and the jury. He doesn't even know if this guy killed her."

"That's what he remembers, Chris." I look up at him, confused.

"Remembers. He remembers?" I ask.

"He remembers quite a lot apparently."

"I have to stop him. He can't do this," I say quietly.

"I need your help," I say, forcing the words up from my throat, it tastes bitter to even say them aloud.

"With my help comes inconvenience, as you may know."

"I don't care about the inconvenience. If he does this, I won't be able to deal with it. If he's able to make this happen..." I say honestly.

"I can have someone tail you."

"Follow me?"

"Just in case."

"He's resourceful, I think you need to tell Lauren what's going on."

With all that has happened, and all she has worried about, I don't want to put that type of stress on her. Telling her that he...that I'm intent on killing someone-my biological father. That's not something she needs to know.

"I'd rather this stay between us. She has enough to deal with."

"Your choice, my friend."

"My people are very discreet. It will be like they're not even there."

"It has to be. I don't want her to think we're being followed. I want things to be as normal as possible."

"Thank you Dexter," I tell him, before reaching for the door.

"There may be another way, where you don't have to live like this," he says casually.

"Like what other type of way?"

"It would come with some risks..."

Cal April 16, 2011 Same dream, almost every night. One of the only ones I wish I could get away from. I used to wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through me, now I've grown immune to it. Or at least that's what I tried to convince myself. Trying to convince myself that it doesn't affect me. That it isn't as terrifying as it used to be. The woman in my head I can't forget. Her creamy white skin contrasting against the pool of red blood surrounding her, soaking her clothes and mine. The little boy in the dream crying for hours before someone found him. My own cries won't leave my head while panic tried to suffocate me.

Now it's different. I look over at the woman next to me that's made my dream feel worse. Before her I never wanted kids, I never wanted a family, to be so close to someone that their loss could be worse than this dream I have every night. A love interferes with my only cure. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to love anyone but myself. The only feeling I ever wanted was revenge. Revenge and pleasure-nothing more, nothing less, both became one and the same to me. An obsession that became an addiction. But this, her arms wrapped around me, her breath on my skin, it feel almost like peace, and peace and vengeance don't work well together. Having one sacrifices the other.

She graduates soon. She'll be done with school, going into another chapter in her life and I feel like the chapter's about to be closed on me. She's not sure what she wants to do after school, she talks about getting a job. She's hated every place she's interviewed for, about to jump into the cycle I loathe. Work for pennies, buy a house you really never liked and grow old and miserable as each year pa.s.ses. She should travel, see the world and draw it on that sketch pad of hers. I want her to see the places I was able to see once I broke free. Paris, Rome, the Alps. I've been around the world and back. She deserves the same, she deserves everything she wants. The problem is she wants me, but she doesn't really know what having me comes with, and the problem is I want her more than anything. That's what drove me to the jeweler Dexter uses, what caused me to sell my bike to get her one of the most expensive rings in the store, but what's stopping me at the same time is that I love her, and I know her. I know that she wants marriage, but not the kind that I can give her. She wants children, she wants someone that she can grow old with. A normal guy, and that's just not me.

Then why do you have the ring?

"Good morning," she says groggily, running her hand through my hair, her eyes barely open.

"You still have two hours to sleep," I tell her, glancing at the clock.

"What's wrong?" she asks, cupping my face.

"Nothing," I tell her playfully before rolling on top of her. She laughs.

"It looks like your mind is somewhere else," she says, her face scrunched up looking at me.

"Just thinking about how I want to take you to Europe," I tell her and she rolls her eyes playfully.

"Yeah right," she says disbelievingly. Then I tilt my head and look into those hypnotizing eyes and they widen.

"Are you serious?" she asks, her excitement growing by the second.

"Your graduation present," I tell her and she pushes me off her.

"I-I can't go to Europe with you," she says, and I have to hide how much her words sting. They're stern and like a kick in the nuts. I try to think of something to say to brush it off.

"You'd rather have fun here hanging out at Navy Pier?" I joke, nudging her in the side. She sighs and looks back at me, her eyes big and sad.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is all real," she says quietly.

"What do you mean?" I ask, getting up and sitting next to her.

"I know I've told you this before but, you're not like anyone I've ever met before."

"I'm one of a kind," I wink at her and a small smile spreads across her face.

"You are, and that's what's so scary about this. What do I do after you, how do I get over Cal Scott?" she says, looking me right in the eye and a wave of sadness pa.s.ses through me. Get over me. What is she talking about? Is she breaking up with me? Am I being f.u.c.king dumped?

"What are you talking about Lauren?" I feel my voice becoming tense. I feel anger starting to course through every part of my body. She gets out of bed and starts putting on her clothing, which is littered across the floor.

This could be your easy break. If you love her you'd let her go.

"We're in two different worlds Cal. I live in the real world and you live in the perfect world...for you," she says looking away from me.

"I feel like my stay's only temporary. Things are so great and I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For when you'll wake up and realize that you're suffocated or this isn't what you want. That I'm not what you want," she says and I hear her voice choke up. I get off the bed and on my knees and pull her towards me.

"Hey. You're the greatest thing that has ever happened to me," I tell her, her eyes still downcast.

"I'm not the prize. You are," I tell her, cupping her face in my hands. I hate that there's tears in her eyes. The first time I've ever seen her cry, but I think of all the tears she'll shed if I don't let her go.

What am I doing?

"I graduate next week, Cal. I'm going to get a real job and really be an adult. I have to start figuring things out."

I feel myself getting mad, disappointment taking over and I can't let it boil over. I stand up and walk to the other side of the room. I can't let her see it.

This could be for the best. She deserves more than this.

"There are things I want but I don't know if we both want," she says sullenly.

This is your chance. If you love her you'll let her go. Take the ring back to the store and set her free.

"I don't know if what I want is going to be good enough, or exciting enough for you."

She wants normal and you sure as h.e.l.l can't give her that.

"What do you want Cal?" she asks.

"To be happy," I say with a chuckle.

"Me too," she says quietly. She grabs her little overnight bag she brings whenever she comes. I'm tired of her bringing that stupid bag. It reminds me that she's only here temporarily. She walks past me and heads to the bathroom. I head out of the room and go downstairs. In the kitchen I pull out my pill vial from behind the cups in the cabinet and look at the little blue pills in them. Helen's voice echoes in my head.

There's no guarantee that this will work, Cal.

This isn't even considered trial stage yet.

There are a lot of risks for you to consider.

"Sometimes the reward is worth the risk," I tell myself before popping my second one for the day in my mouth and washing it down with warm water.

A half hour later she's down stairs, fully dressed with her bag on her shoulder.

"I'm going to get out of here," she says, grabbing all her hair and putting it at the top of her head. I get off the couch and walk in front of her. Her eyes avoid mine. I put my hands on her waist and pull her towards me.

"You're coming to Europe with me," I tell her simply and she rolls her eyes.

"How many times do we have to talk about you asking and not telling," she says, a small smirk on her lips. She says she wants me to ask her whenever I do something, but I know she likes it when I tell her what to do.

"This is an exception, you told me no so now I'm telling you that you're coming with me to Europe, because you work hard and deserve it and I want to have you on every beach I step foot on," I whisper in her ear. She giggles and then sighs.

"No, no, no no," she says, stepping away from me.

"You're not going to convince me like that," she says playfully.

"Then I'll convince you another way," I tell her, picking her up and pulling her on top of my lap on the couch.

"You're hot," she says in between pants.

"I'm always in heat," I tell her with a wink.

"No your skin is really hot," she says, her voice rising in panic. I put her down and she puts her hand on my head.

"Do you have a thermometer? You feel really warm," she says worriedly.

"No I'm fine," I wave her off. I don't feel hot, but when I put my hand on my head I do feel hot, I think.