Red Bullets in June

Chapter 28: New Job

     "No mom, I'm not leaving you!"

     Hm?

     Am I dreaming?

     "No! I'm not moving!"

     My eyelids spring open to a thick and tangible, black presence that seeps into the very marrow of my bones and cuts off my supply of oxygen.

     It's suffocating.

A sinister chill torrents up my spine.

     I've felt this before...

     Jaxon's dark form thrashing and struggling beside me materializes. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore!"

    The ghost-like cries...

     Bolting upright in bed, I take hold of Jaxon's shoulders and shake them. "Jaxon, baby. Wake up."

     He continues to flail around viciously. "YOU KILLED HER!"

     I shake his body again with more force and raise my voice. "Jaxon! Wake up! Jaxon!"

     His ebony eyes dart open in a panic and they're clouded with unspeakable horrors. He blinks rapidly as traumatized drops of sweat trickle down his face. I cradle his damp cheeks in my hands. "Jaxon, baby. You had a nightmare. It's okay, I'm here."

     Jaxon trembles violently. "He killed her..." he begins to hyperventilate. "My dad... killed her..."

     "It's okay, baby. It was just a dream."

     "No... He... killed her..." he continues to choke on his words. "She's dead... My mom... is dead..."

     I reel Jaxon's quaking form into my arms and attempt to calm him down. I comb my fingers through his wet and matted, nightmare hair with slow and soothing strokes and he buries his face into the curve of my neck while he clutches onto me like an over-attached child. "It's okay, Jaxon. It was just a dream."

     "I couldn't... stop him..." he begins to cry and tiny beads of tortured liquid dissolve into my skin. "I'm - the reason... she's dead..."

     "That's not true. What your dad did isn't your fault."

     Just like that, all the puzzle pieces come together to form a horrific picture.

     Jaxon's dad killed his mom. She died when he was 10. He was shot when he was 10...

     His dad shot him...?

     "I miss her, Charlotte... I miss her so much..." Jaxon's harrowed whimpers and sobs seize my heart by the neck with merciless hands and constrict her airways. She's bracing against a nearby wall, battling for oxygen.

     His broken appearance is the most melancholy sight I've ever beheld. All I want to do is console him. "I know, baby. I know. Shh. It's okay. You'll see her again someday."

     "No I won't... She's gone forever..."

     "You don't believe in angels?"

     "No."

     "Well, I'll always be here for you. Okay?"

     He nods and clings to me in desperate need of comfort. "Promise?" He sniffles and I feel like I'm holding an innocent, 10-year-old boy.

     I plant a healing kiss on his damp, trauma tainted cheek. "I promise."

     I continue to hold this damaged man, trapped in the tragedies of his 10-year-old self while he clutches me in chronic need. I massage my fingertips through his matted hair and pause intermittently to press my consoling lips against his sorrow stained cheeks. I repeat this sequence over and over again until his tremors gradually subside and his whimpers fade into a still silence.