Find You In The Dark Part 18

Clay lay in a bed, with a bunch of wires hooked up to his body, the beeping of machines echoing much too loudly in the small s.p.a.ce. "You can only have a few minutes. I'll be back." Nurse Burke said, before leaving to give us some privacy.

Clay noticed I was there and watched me as I came to his side. His eyes were heavy and clouded with the sedative. The white of his bandaged wrists stood out against the blue hospital blanket. He was deathly pale and he looked at me with an unreadable emotion as I gently took his hand in mine.

"Maggie." He said. His voice sounded as though he had been chewing broken gla.s.s. My name roughly rolling off his tongue. I carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hey." I replied, trying hard to smile. Clay closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did this to you. I'm just so, so sorry." I didn't say anything, just leaned over and pressed my mouth to his cheek. His skin was cold on my lips.

"You're parents are on their way here." I told him, and he only nodded. The nurse must have already told him. "They're going to put me away." He said matter of factly. "I know." Was all I could reply. Clay opened his eyes and I could see a spark of the old Clay there, hidden in their depths. "They're going to take me away from you. That's exactly what I didn't want to happen." He told me flatly. I could see him struggling under the weight of his sedation.

He reached out to touch my face, but his fingers fell back to the bed before they could make contact. "You look so sad. I did this to you. I hate myself for making you feel this way. I ruin everything. I always have." He said, his voice deadened by the drugs. I shook my head. "No! Don't say that. It's not true." Clay closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows, almost as if it were too painful to look at me.

"I can't keep doing this to you." He whispered, putting his hands up to cover his face. I needed to put an end to his bitter self-loathing. I just didn't know how. "Just stop this, Clay. You need to worry about getting better. Nothing else." I said with more conviction than I felt. I reached up and pulled his hands down. "Please, just get better." I begged him. He covered my hand with his and held it to his face. "I love you, Maggie. Forever. I was being selfish, only thinking about myself. I should have put you first, always." He agonized, showing more feeling than he had since I walked in. I didn't say anything more. I pulled myself up onto his bed and spooned my body against his and held him until Nurse Burke returned.

As I was forced to leave his side I turned back to look at him one more time. Who knew when I'd get to see him again? His eyes met mine and he looked completely and utterly shattered- broken. His expression was haunting. And was burned into my mind.

Once back out in the waiting room I was greeted by a very angry Mrs. Reed. Mr. Reed stood behind her looking bland and disinterested, as though he'd rather be in a meeting at work than a hospital waiting room. Regardless that his son had been admitted there for trying to take his own life.

Mrs. Reed took two steps and leaned in uncomfortably close to my face. "What did you do to him?" She hissed. I reeled back in surprise. Was she for real? I almost laughed with the absolute absurdity of her question. To think this self-important b.i.t.c.h could actually stand there and place the blame for Clay's condition squarely on my shoulders. Especially when the root of so many of his problems rested solely with the two narcissistic people standing in front of me.

"Does this amuse you? And here I thought you and my son were in love. When in reality you're that little gold digging mooch I knew you were. Did you talk him into leaving town with you? Have him take you on some whirlwind vacation with our money?" She spat at me with all the venom she could muster.

This time I did laugh. "Oh yeah, because the Motel 6 is livin' large." I said sarcastically. Mrs. Reed looked as though she wanted to slap me as her hand tensed by her side. "My son is a very sick boy. He doesn't need to be led astray by a selfish little b.i.t.c.h like you." The hatred in her voice startled me. What in the world had I done to garner such a strong dislike from this woman?

Though if I thought about it, I knew Mrs. Reed's problem was that she wanted to place blame anywhere and everywhere but where it belonged; with she and her husband. She couldn't see her own failings as a parent, so instead I became the bad guy.

Well screw that!

So, I got right back in her nasty, smug face and poked my finger in the middle of her chest. "Back off Mrs. Reed. Your son is lying in a hospital bed after slitting his wrists because the two of you have been more concerned how this could make you look, rather than involving yourselves with what's going on with your son." Mrs. Reed's face turned crimson and her jaw clenched.

And I wasn't even close to being done speaking my mind. "Maybe if you spent more time being actual parents, he wouldn't be where he is now. In ICU! After attempting suicide! I love your son. More than anything. And because I love him, I can recognize that the best thing for him is to get help, even though that means he will go away. I love him enough to realize my desire to be with him is not necessarily what's best for him. And I hope you can remember that he is your son. Your own flesh and blood! And that what he needs more than anything, is love and support. Not judgment and condemnation. And he sure as h.e.l.l doesn't need you pressing bogus charges against him! So, for once, maybe you can do what he needs rather that what you want."

My anger fizzled out and all I felt was bone weary sadness. I wanted to keep throwing my rage at these two horrible people, but I just felt depressed. Being p.i.s.sed off wouldn't change what had happened or help Clay.

Mrs. Reed pulled herself up as straight as her spine would let her. Her red face and icy eyes looked like she was about to rip into me again when Nurse Burke interrupted. "Are you Mr. and Mrs. Reed?" Mrs. Reed was distracted. "Yes, I'm Samantha Reed and this is Clayton's father, Nicholas. Where is my son?" She demanded. Nurse Burke's no nonsense expression never faltered. She was probably used to dealing with pain in the a.s.s people all day long.

"I'll take you to see him. But I have to let you know that it is extremely important that he not be agitated. He is in a very delicate state right now, and needs nothing but calm. The staff psychiatrist, Dr. Lang, is waiting for you to discuss possible options for continued treatment. So, if you'll follow me." Mrs. Reed picked up her purse and, with a final scathing look at me, she followed Nurse Burke, who offered me a slight sympathetic nod. I smiled half-heartedly in return, hoping she understood my appreciation for her intervention.

After Clay's parents disappeared I collapsed into a chair. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew Rachel was shaking me. "Maggie! Oh my G.o.d, Maggie!" I opened my eyes to see Rachel, Daniel and my parents crowded around me. Daniel pulled me to my feet as he and Rachel hugged me. "You scared me to death! I could smack you." Daniel said with a frown, but not once did he let go of me. Rachel just started crying and clung to me as though we had been apart for months rather than days.

I pulled away from my friends and launched myself at my parents. They held me tightly to them, each telling me over and over that they loved me. I was so appreciative of them, especially after being subjected to Clay's cold and self-centered family.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered repeatedly. "Shh. Don't worry. It's all over now. Let's just go home." I hesitated. I felt torn about leaving Clay. How could I just go back to Davidson and leave him here at the mercy of his parents?

As if on cue, Mrs. Reed came back through the ICU doors, talking to a tall bearded man, with a hospital badge that identified him as Dr. Lang, the staff psychiatrist.

Knowing it was futile, I approached her after she was finished speaking with the doctor. "Is Clay all right? Are you taking him home?" Mrs. Reed looked at me with cold, unfeeling eyes. "We're taking him back to Florida where we can get him the help he needs." Was all she said as she started to turn away from me to fill out the paperwork Dr. Lang had handed her.

I peaked at the form she was signing and saw that it was transfer paperwork. My throat tightened. They really were taking him away. My mother came up behind me. "Mrs. Reed, I'm Elizabeth Young, Maggie's mother. I know my daughter will be very worried about Clayton. Is there any way you can let her know about his progress? Maybe let them communicate while he's in treatment?"

I tried to control my shocked expression. I couldn't believe my mom was actually advocating for me to be able to maintain communication with Clay. I squeezed her hand in thanks. Mrs. Reed didn't even bother to look up at my mother. Rude b.i.t.c.h.

"I don't think that would be appropriate. Your daughter has been the source of a lot of my son's problems during his stay in Virginia. I think the best thing for Clayton will be to get as far away from here, and her, as possible." I felt my mom tense beside me, and waited in antic.i.p.ation for her to unleash the mama super powers.

"Excuse me Mrs. Reed, but I think you are quite mistaken." Mrs. Reed looked up at my mother, looking bored with their conversation. My mom continued. "Maggie has been nothing but supportive of your son, even when he treated her badly. Perhaps you need to take a long look in the mirror and see why your son is so troubled. Because, in my experience, issues usually lie a little closer to home." Mrs. Reed simply raised her eyebrow, which was so much like Clay, and didn't bother to respond. She turned on her heel and walked back into the ICU.

And just like that the door to my relations.h.i.+p with Clay slammed firmly closed in my face. I was crushed and my body literally sagged in defeat, feeling an immeasurable weight pressing down on me. "Thank you for trying, Mom." I said as she gathered me to her. "What a horrible woman. Poor Clayton. No wonder he struggled so." That was the nicest thing my mother had ever said about Clay. She held me close against her as we left the hospital. My father on my other side, and my two best friends following close behind. We all piled into my family's minivan, and I tried to stop the tears as I watched the hospital, and Clay, disappear behind me.

"I need to go back to the motel and get mine and Clay's things." I said as my dad pulled out onto the road. "I don't know if that's a good idea." My mom sounded concerned. I leaned forward and gripped the seat. "Please, Mom. I need to do this." My mom and dad didn't pose any more arguments. And when we pulled up to the Motel 6, my parents and friends accompanied me into the tiny room that held my last good memories of Clay and I together.

I felt like he had died, because I knew I wouldn't be allowed to see or talk to him for a very long time. At least not until Clay was able to make those decisions for himself. I wanted to be confident in the belief that he would contact me as soon as he was able. But I couldn't be sure and that made the hollow feeling that was building in my chest nearly intolerable. Clay had looked so broken when I left. I wasn't positive he would ever be a part of my life again.

"s.h.i.+t." Rachel breathed as she took in the destroyed room. No one said anything as I pulled out Clay's duffel bag and started gathering the clothes that he hadn't shredded and stuffed them inside. I went into the bathroom and almost lost it at the sight of the dried blood on the floor. I closed the door and fell to my knees and let loose my pain. I cried for Clay, for myself, for the future together that we would never have. I put a clean towel under the tap and then got on my knees and scrubbed. I wanted to wipe up every last drop of his blood; as though that would erase the horrible memories of him lying motionless in my arms as I struggled to keep him with me to keep him alive.

I must have been in there for quite awhile, because my mom came in and found me furiously wiping the floor. "Honey, you can leave that. That's enough." She said gently, yet I couldn't stop. I wet the towel again and got back on my knees and scrubbed some more. "Maggie. Please, just leave it." She got down on the floor with me and put her hands over mine. I looked up into her eyes that were filled with love and concern. "You don't have to do this. Leave it here." I knew that she meant more than the blood. I dropped the towel and let her take me out of the bathroom. Daniel picked up the duffel bag and we closed the door to the motel room. I left the key card outside on the stoop.

Rachel rode beside me on the way home, squeezing my hand every so often. I let my head drop to her shoulder and my best friend stroked my hair as we finally made our way back home.

Epilogue.

"Maggie, can you bring me the bag of salt from the garage?" My mother called from the front door. I got up off the couch and made my way to the foyer. My mom was covered in fresh snow and I could see it falling from the late January sky behind her. "I think your dad put it up on the shelf. Hurry up, this snow won't shovel itself." I pulled on my boots and thick wool coat. I stuffed my hands into a pair of gloves and went outside, then around to the side of the house toward the garage.

Two months and I was still trying to feel normal, like I still fit inside this life that I had once called mine. My parents kept me busy. My weekends were now filled with shopping trips and movies. My parents had decided to try their hand at some home improvements and enlisted my help in figuring out how to hang drywall and use my mother's ancient sewing machine to make curtains.

Christmas had been hard. I had expected to hear something from Clay, but the holiday came and went. Nothing. Just silence. I tried to hide the hurt I felt, but I wasn't fooling anyone. Rachel and Daniel had been glued to my side for the entire winter break. Even though they were a little suffocating, I appreciated their presence.

Now that I was back in school, Rachel had talked me into signing up for the school musical. I was helping out with the set designs and that was eating up a lot of my down time in the evenings. Time I would have otherwise been moping in my room.

Everyone else was trying, so why couldn't I? Most of the time I put on a good show. I had become well-practiced at pretending I wasn't broken inside. Pretending that part of me didn't still linger in that tiny room in the ICU where Clay and I had last been together.

"Do you need help with that?" My dad asked, as I struggled to get the bag of salt from the shelf. I gave up and let him get it down for me. "Wow, that's heavier than I thought. You want me to take it to your mom?" He asked. I laughed at him. "You are so out of shape Dad. We're getting you on an exercise plan as soon as it's warm." I threatened him. My dad feigned indignation. "I'm plenty in shape." "Sure you are, Mr. 'I eat four donuts for breakfast and a bag of Doritos for lunch'. Go on inside and let us younger, fitter people handle the heavy lifting." I joked. My dad chuckled, but left me to my ch.o.r.e.

It felt good to have my relations.h.i.+p with my parents on the mend. Sure, they still watched me closely. But I really couldn't blame them. I had dragged them through h.e.l.l and back. I deserved their vigilance, despite how much it smothered me at times.

I wasn't entirely sure what they were watching for, though. Clay was gone. I hadn't heard from him or his parents since that day in the hospital waiting room. Not that I was surprised. His mother made it very clear she wanted me to have absolutely nothing to do with her son. But I struggled with the betrayal that pierced my chest when I wondered why Clay hadn't tried harder to get a hold of me. I had honestly thought his love for me was stronger than that. If the tables were turned, I knew I would stop at nothing to talk to him again.

But I tried to focus on the margin of happiness I felt in knowing, that despite not hearing from him, he was getting help somewhere. Even if it was away from me. Yeah, I didn't wear selflessness very well.

And every time I thought of him, I ached inside and I found it hard to breathe.

I had wondered a million times how I could possibly go on living when my heart was gone? How was it possible that it still beat in my chest when it felt so empty?

"Here you go, Mom." I said, as I let the heavy bag fall to the ground. My mom stopped shoveling and bent over to rip open the bag. "Thanks Maggie May." She said before dumping some salt on the sidewalk. "I don't know why you bother. Just wait until it stops snowing. You realize it'll just have to be redone in the morning." I told her, watching her freshly shoveled path disappearing under a blanket of white. "Because it'll be much worse in the morning if I don't do some of it now." She said, returning to her task.

I just shook my head and turned to head back into the house. I stopped for a moment, possessed by some childish impulse. I turned my face upwards toward the sky and stuck out my tongue, letting the cold flakes melt in my mouth. I loved the snow and it, like almost everything else, reminded me of Clay. I remembered our time at the cabin, lying together in the loft as snow fell outside and thinking that I could never be happier than I was at that moment. I sighed. Those memories were a blessing and a curse. I was thankful that I had them, but they hurt so much. It had to get better eventually, right? I asked myself this every single day. I slowly trudged forward, my steps feeling heavier than they had before.

I tried hard to pull it all together. I wanted to be the daughter my parents deserved, and the friend I knew Rachel and Danny needed. But it was hard to be that girl some days. Maybe it was the lack of closure. Not knowing what Clay was doing, or how he was doing made it tortuous. Then there were the doubts that festered like a disease in my mind. Sometimes I found myself thinking that maybe he realized he was better off without me. That what we had wasn't as life altering for him as it had been for me. That maybe, I was alone in the love I still felt as deeply as I had from its onset. I tried to put my dismal thoughts away. Every day I tried. I couldn't let myself get mired in them, or I'd likely find myself in the same depression I had been drowning in for too long after leaving Clay lying there in the hospital. I determined that I must go on, move forward, live my life, and be as happy as I was capable of without him. Despite how daunting and impossible the task seemed.

I caught sight of the mail truck as it skidded to a stop in front of the house. I don't know why it made me pause, but it did. I walked out to meet the mail man. "Here, I'll get that." I said, forcing a smile and taking the pile of envelopes. "Drive safely." I told him as he got back in his truck. He thanked me and left.

My hands began to shake as I sorted through the stack of bills and junk mail. My reaction was always the same when the mail arrived. I always wished, actually yearned, for just once be a letter addressed to me. I hated that I repeatedly go my hopes up, but I did anyway.

But this time, I found what I was looking for. There at the bottom of the pile was a small envelope. Pulling it out, my heart stuttered at the sight of my name written in a familiar, sloping hand. Funny how just the sight of his handwriting had the power to shred my guts.

Standing there, with snow up to my ankles, I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to rip the letter to pieces, frightened by the crippling pain that would inevitably accompany his words. But that was such a small part of the hurricane of emotions I was feeling that I hastily shoved it away. Of course I would read it. I had to. I felt compelled to, never mind the emotional wreckage it could create. It wasn't really even an option. I most definitely would read it. Just not right now.

I folded up the letter and put it in my jean pocket and went about the rest of my day, even as the envelope weighed me down like a stone around my neck.

I spent the rest of the morning channel surfing, enjoying the snow day. Rachel and Daniel trekked over in the afternoon and Rachel insisted on giving me a hair cut. Normally I wouldn't let scissors anywhere near me, but with Clay's words deep in my pocket, I felt a sudden overwhelming need for change. Daniel flopped down on my bed and leafed through a magazine as Rachel snipped and layered and snipped some more. "I can't believe you read this junk." Daniel snorted. Rachel held my head straight as I tried to see the article he was reading on how to get a boy to notice you. "If you don't want to have to buzz your head later, hold still." I immediately sat up straight.

When Rachel was finished she held up a mirror. "So, whatcha think?" She asked. I turned my head side to side and grinned. She had done an awesome job. My normally long brown hair had been chopped off above my shoulders. Rachel had given me chunky layers around my face and it looked amazingly sleek and stylish. I fluffed it. "You have a gift, my friend." I complimented, very pleased with the end result. Daniel looked up and gave me a low whistle. "You look hot, Mags." Rachel and I grinned.

"So Maggie..." Daniel began. I was instantly suspicious, because he never used my full name. I looked at him archly. "Yes." I prompted. "I was talking to Jake Fitzpatrick the other day and he was asking about you." I looked away from my best friend. I knew he was trying to be helpful, wanting me to move on with my life. Attempting to re-acclimate me to the life I had led before Clay had appeared in it. But Jake Fitzpatrick, actually any guy, didn't have a chance as long as Clay still held my heart.

"Don't think so, Danny." I said lightly, trying to hide the misery the thought of dating other guys created. "Jake's hot. I mean, what would it hurt to go out on a date with him? We could all go together if that would make it easier. It's not as though you're cheating. I mean...you know, I don't think Clay's...ummm...well...you know." Rachel didn't finish her thought, letting her sentence trail off into what became an awkward silence.

Her well-intentioned encouragement made me snap and I flushed with anger. "Well, I can't do that okay. I love Clay and it wouldn't be right. So just drop it please." I told them shortly. I didn't miss the look that pa.s.sed between the two. And the subject was dropped.

Daniel and Rachel didn't stay much longer and sadly, I was relieved when they left. Trying to put on my happy face was proving difficult today. Not when I was just waiting to read Clay's letter.

Finally, after dinner, I excused myself and went to my room. My parents didn't question it, as this had become my normal routine. I closed the door behind me and sat on my bed. I slowly pulled out the crumpled letter from my pocket and held it, feeling its warmth from being tucked against me all day.

I inspected the envelope and saw that there was no return address. That seemed to speak pretty loudly that whatever Clayton Reed had to say to me required no response. I couldn't help but feel equal parts angry and hurt by that.

Tearing open the envelope, I carefully unfolded the paper. My name jumped out at me. I noticed the indentations where Clay had pressed his pen down hard. I could almost feel his anxiety. His fear. His grief. Undoubtedly because that was exactly how I was feeling. I closed my eyes, bracing myself and gearing up my nerve. Then I began to read. His love for me immediately lept up from the page. I was almost crippled with the intense relief. I realized then how scared I had been that he would stop loving me. That he would go on and live his life and forget all about me. But I guess I should have given him more credit than that.

Maggie, I'm not sure I should be writing this. I feel like it's incredibly selfish of me to need to write these words and to need you to read them to need you to know they are true. As if I am more ent.i.tled to these feelings than you are. But I'm not. Your thoughts, the way you feel, every single thing about you, means everything to me.

I guess that's why I'm writing. There isn't a second of every day that pa.s.ses that I don't think about you. You are everywhere. I can still smell your hair, hear you cursing me when I drive too fast, and feel your breath as I fall asleep.

It hurts to remember you. But it scares me to try and forget. I remember you telling me that my love for you shouldn't hurt, that it should be something wonderful. And it is. It is the most wonderful thing I've ever had. But the truth is, it does hurt. My love for you destroyed everything around us and almost destroyed you, and I hate myself for that.

You deserve so much more than me. You always have. I hope you do find what you deserve one day. Someone who can love you selflessly and unconditionally without baggage and strings. Someone who doesn't let you leave your family behind. Someone you don't have to follow into h.e.l.l.

I am a selfish person, Mags. Because I still love you and I know that I will until I die. And even as I tell you to move on with your life and live it - to find someone else, I pray you don't. Because I can't handle the thought of anyone else holding you, anyone else touching you, anyone else experiencing your love the way I did.

I don't know exactly what I'm trying to tell you here. I can see the frown on your face as you're reading this and hear you telling me to spit it out and get on with it. (I smiled through my tear-filled eyes at that comment. Clay knew me too well).

I suppose what I'm really trying to say is thank you. Thank you for giving me the most beautiful and amazing months of my life. Thank you for loving me in spite of me. Thank you for giving me hope and light, even if it was only for a little while. And I want to tell you again, I'm sorry. I should have been stronger and let you lean on me, instead of forcing you to shoulder the burden for both of us.

I realize my love for you crippled both of us.

But your love saved me.

Which is why this has to be goodbye. I can't stomach the thought of you waiting for me, for a person that I may never be. I'm trying to get better. But it's a hard and bitter road and I don't know when, or even if, I will ever be completely okay.

I want you to move on. To live your life, even if it rips me apart to not live it with you. I can't even give you the hope that there is a maybe at the end of all this. Because I would hate to kill that hope again.

Just know that you are and always will be my world. You found me in the dark and saved me from myself. You have shown me the type of person I want to be and I strive to be him. For you and for me.

I will love you forever.

Always, Clay Wow. I dropped the letter at my feet and made no effort to wipe the tears that streamed down my face. Whatever I had been expecting, that wasn't it.

d.a.m.n Clay Reed and his stupid back and forth c.r.a.p! How perfectly typical of him. Telling me how much he loved me and in the next breath pus.h.i.+ng me away. He had effectively shut me out of his life. Again. He wanted me to move on. To live my life. He told me not to wait for him, that he wouldn't be coming back to me.

I found it hard to breathe as I faced the finality of his words. We were over. There was no more us. I couldn't help but feel anger and betrayal at how he gave up. How he just let go of all that we had.

I picked the letter up from the floor and balled it in my fist, planning to throw it away. But I stopped myself. I placed the paper on my desk and smoothed it out. I couldn't get rid of it. It was my last link to him, and I needed that.

So I put it in the very bottom of my desk drawer. I didn't want to see it again, but I couldn't let go of it either. I couldn't read his goodbye, but I had to know that it was still there. That his love was a real thing. That I hadn't imagined it.

I felt older, and maybe just a little bit wiser. I had my own baggage and strings and it would take time for me to lighten my load. But I would.

Because I was Maggie Young. And from now on I vowed to stay out of the dark.

A Sneak Peak at the sequel to "Find You in the Dark"....

Light in the Shadows

Chapter 1.

~Clay~ "You're cheating! There is no freaking way you can win six rounds of poker!" The scrawny boy across the table from me said, throwing his cards down in frustration. I chuckled, as I scooped up the pile of red and blue chips, adding them to my pile.

"I warned you that there was no way you could beat me Tyler. Not my fault that you didn't take my advice." Tyler grumbled under his breath but grabbed the pile of cards and started to shuffle them again.

I leaned back in the wing back chair waiting for my friend to deal. I had been at the Grayson Center for almost three months. I was enrolled in a 90 day program and my time was almost up. Looking around the recreation room, I would actually be kind of sad when I had to leave.

Which is weird considering how much I had fought coming here in the first place. Once I had gotten over my anger and oppositional reaction to treatment, I sort of came to enjoy my time there and found that the staff and the other patients did something I never thought possible.

They showed me how to heal.

And that's what I was doing. Slowly. Not that I expected a perfect fix in three months. I realized my healing would take years. And there were days I never thought I would be able to leave and live a decent life outside the supports of the center and the safety of its walls. But then there were good days, like today, when I felt like I could take on the world.

Like I could find my way back to Maggie.

"What's with the goofy smile, bro? You look like an idiot." Tyler said good- naturedly as he tossed out cards. I blinked, taken away from my happy thoughts and picked up my cards. "Nothin' man. Just having a good day."

Tyler smiled. Other guys would probably have given me s.h.i.+t for acting like an emo p.u.s.s.y. But not the people here. We were all there because we needed to have those good days. So we understood the importance of being happy for those who had them.