023: Regrets of the Past

Dexter 

My meeting with Red has come to an end. 

I'm about to leave but I stop at the bar one more time for a drink. I sit there and drink it slowly. I have to go home but for some reason, I'm dreading it. The argument I had with Ellen keeps replaying in the back of my mind and leaves a sour taste in my mouth that the whiskey fails to flush down my throat. 

I should never have said those things to her and I feel like a jackass. 

I run my fingers through my hair. I look to my left and see a man doing just about the same thing as me. The only difference is that he doesn't have hair, so he's just rubbing his scalp repeatedly. He flashes me a sympathetic smile. "Women problems, eh?"

I don't answer him. 

"Yeah," he says. "I thought so. Welcome to the club. Everyone here comes to distract themselves from whatever shit is going on at home. These girls aren't judgmental, are they?"

I don't want to have to talk to a stranger about my problems, especially the problems I have with my mate. I strive to keep my personal problems as far away from strangers as possible. I take a sip of my drink but keep an eye on the man's face. He downs half his beer and then slams his cup down. He smacks his lips and then says, "Looking at me now, you wouldn't think that I was the son of an Alpha, would you? Well, I was."

No, I wouldn't have guessed it. He's about fifty and his clothes are dirty. He looks like an Omega at best; in fact, when I first looked at him, I assumed he was a rogue. Like me. He nods at my silence and adds, "I made the wrong choice. That's what landed me here. Chose the wrong woman to mate with. She sucked all the life out of me, that woman, and I couldn't leave her because she was the mother of my children and I was all she had. She was a rogue, you see. Everyone saw what she was apart from me. Now, I run away from her whenever I can. It kills me to go home."

As I listen to him, I can't help but think about my own situation with Ellen. I feel a nauseating feeling deep inside of me, especially when I recall how unenthusiastic I was at our mating. Jenna gave me one look and asked, "Now, why are you mating with her exactly when it's clear you don't love her?"

I was fixing my tie and told her, "I respect her. Isn't that enough?"

"You'll see in due time," she had said. 

In the end, it hadn't been enough. I never loved Ellen, not once. I mated with her because I respected and loved her father, and at the time, I had been willing to do anything to be a part of Mr. King's family. Having his daughter as my mate seemed like the perfect solution to that. 

Now, I'm deeply regretting it. Ellen and I have nothing in common, and I'm drowning in that relationship. 

"It is what it is," the man concludes. "We just have to live with what we've done."

I put my glass down and call the bartender over to pay my bill. The guy glances at the man next to me and says, "Now, Jacob. Why don't you have your drink in silence and leave this man alone? You spoil everyone's fun."

The man who had been talking to me, Jacob, flips the man off and says, "You're all no fun. I'm going to Red. She's the only one who comforts me and makes me feel good."

I feel as if an ice pick has been thrust into my heart upon hearing this. Jacob slams a bill onto the counter and gets down from the stool. I watch him as he walks past me and goes to Red's room. I know it's where she is because I left that room not five minutes ago. 

"That'll be twenty dollars," the bartender tells me, capturing my attention. 

I retrieve my wallet from the inner pocket of my coat and pay him. I then decide that it's about time to leave. As I walk past the VIP room, I feel acid burning through me. I close my eyes, annoyed that I feel this way. She's a stripper. This is what she does. Why the fuck do I feel like this? It doesn't make any sense.

I'm deeply disturbed by the thought of Jacob in there, though. I imagine myself barging into the room and grabbing the nape of his neck and shoving a gun down his throat. I'll then pull the trigger until I've emptied all the bullets down his fucking throat. This scene is so vivid in my mind that I almost feel his blood splattering my face. 

I then blink once, and it's gone. The negative, burning feeling lingers, though, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm outside. I don't even remember walking down that darkened corridor. I exhale sharply and then reach into my pockets for my pack of cigarettes. I need to smoke this feeling away. I doubt it'll help a lot, but it's better than doing nothing about it.

"That's bad for you," I hear a young voice say.

I say 'young' because it sounds like a child talked to me. I look around and don't see anyone. That unsettles me. I'm pretty sure I heard that. After not seeing anyone, I put the cigarette between my lips and start searching my pockets for a lighter. 

"It's really and for you."

This time, I turn around, determined to find this person or child or whatever it is. "Hello?"

"Over here."

Right on the side of the building, there's a metal staircase. From what I know, this staircase leads to apartments Ambrose has. I know some of his girls live up there, including Red. There is a boy of about eight or nine years sitting right at the foot of the stairs. He's staring at me intently. 

I frown and ask him, "What the hell are you doing here, kid?"

He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he says, "Smoking is and for you."

"So you keep saying."

"It's the truth."

"You know what else is bad for you?"

"What?"

"Not minding your business."

This makes him laugh, and I stare at him with wide eyes. That was meant to be a threat, not make him laugh. 

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"What you said."

"It wasn't meant to be funny."

"Well, it was."

A scoff leaves my lips. "Where's your mother and why does she leave you hanging around in places like this?"

"She works here."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Does she?"

"Yeah."

This makes me pause, and my nausea increases. I can't stand the thought of children being in places like this and no, it doesn't matter that this isn't like the brothel I grew up in with my mother. Creeps come to places like this and he's just a kid. He shouldn't be exposed to things like this.

"Don't you have someone to take care of you while your mother works?"

"My great grandma is dead," he answers. "I only have Mom."

A shitty feeling takes over me, overpowering all my senses. I need to stop relating everything to my childhood. This is none of my business. Still, I can't help but ask him, "You don't have a Dad?"

"Everyone does," he answers me. His answer makes me smile. He's a smart kid. "I don't know who he is, and Mom said he died."

"That's a shame," I tell him.

I see him shrug. "It doesn't hurt."

I smile and chuckle a little as I finally find the lighter. For some reason, I don't feel like smoking anymore. I put the cigarette in my pocket and get closer to him. He doesn't budge or move away from me. I'm a stranger. I remember how wary I was of strangers when I was his age. I ask him, "Do you sit down here waiting for her every night?"

"No," he says. "She doesn't know I sit here. She tells me not to."

"You should listen to her. It's not safe down here. If someone tries to kidnap you or something, you won't be able to fight them off. You're just a kid."

Again, he shrugs. "I get bored up there. There's nothing to do."

"You live up there?"

He nods. 

I fall silent and he doesn't say anything else. Just then, my phone starts ringing and I turn away from him to answer it. I notice that it's Mr. King's number. I answer the phone right away. "Yes, sir?"

"Dex, something has happened to Ellen!"

My heart drops to the pit of my fucking stomach. "What? What's happened?"

"We're at the hospital. Come quickly!"

I don't look back at the kid. I get in my car and drive off. My hands are shaking as I grip the steering wheel. My mind is racing. What's happened? Is it something serious? It can't be nothing, otherwise, her father would never be there.

I reach the hospital. Her whole family is sitting outside and Mr. King stands up when he sees me. I go to him and ask, "What happened?"

"She's had a nervous breakdown of some kind," he explains in a low voice. "She fell in the kitchen and cut herself. She was bleeding a lot by the time the maid got a hold of us. She wants to see you. She's been asking for you. I know you're busy. I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't important."

I nod and go into the room. Ellen is lying on the bed. Her face is very pale and she isn't looking at me. She doesn't look at me as I approach the bed. I ask, "Ellen, are you alright? What happened?"

"You don't care, so why are you asking?"

I try not to sigh or groan. "Your father says you asked for me."

She shakes her head and starts to cry. She covers her face with her hands. I look at her for a while before wrapping my arms around her. She leans against me, crying still. I feel even worse. I stare at her bandaged arms and wonder what kind of accident this could have been. 

I hold her for the longest time. 

Eventually, she falls asleep.