Page 35 of Broken: Taylor

Chapter 15

The noiseof the talking heads on the television in the hotel room barely drowned out the inhuman sounds that came from the man huddled on the floor. His back to the corner, Taylor let every emotion loose, even after his throat became hoarse from it.

No one in the cheap, rent by the hour motel would come check to ensure someone wasn’t being killed. In this area of Billings, people kept to themselves. Better to let the owner or the cops find out than be tied to any kind of crime.

When one needed total privacy, this was the place. He’d paid for a week in advance just to ensure it. Told the manager no maid service and the man hadn’t even blinked at the request.

He was barefoot and had worn the same t-shirt for three days now. Probably stunk too since he’d not bathed for just as long. The last thing Taylor gave a fuck about right then was hygiene.

The faces he’d blocked for years appeared over and over again. Each memory of time spent with his son and daughter sliced at him, like a sword across the chest. The pain was so vivid now, he was shocked to have lived through it then.

Yes he’d grieved along with Janice and the family. He’d been strong for them, especially Janice who’d gone into a silent shock for days.

While going through the process of repairing their life, he’d lost sight of needing to go through accepting his children and wife’s parents were really gone forever.

The picture of the three of them, his son, daughter and him at the lake was on the still made bed. The smiling faces a reminder of a life that didn’t even seem his.

The man in the picture with the broad smile, holding his kids up, was not him. It was someone he’d once been.

Denial was the only way he’d moved on. It was his weapon of choice, the only way he’d dealt with losing his kids, his wife and finally his career.

The last few days, the pains in his hip were welcomed. Each throb and ache was punishment for surviving. It was his sentence for not going to get his children that day and Taylor had no wish to relinquish it.

The cellphone dinged and like the many times before, Taylor ignored it. It was surprising the damn cell phone was still charged with all the dinging and shit. He’d not had the energy to get to it and turn it off. Eventually it would go dead.

His eyes were swollen and dry. His eyelids felt like sandpaper rubbing across the surface when he opened them.

Prying his eyes open, Taylor cringed.

With each hour that passed, the pain from his left hip down the leg became more unbearable until Taylor groaned with each breath. So, this was what he’d been missing by popping the pain pills like Tic-Tacs.

The visit to a doctor, whenever he decided to go, wasn’t going to bring good news. He didn’t need a PhD to know surgery was on the horizon for him. It would be either number ten or twelve. He’d lost count during the haze of going under over and over in the aftermath of the shooting.

Recovery had been worse than the actual shooting. Maybe it was because he’d gone into shock and lost consciousness quite a bit. After the surgery, he’d been wide-awake for each and every torturous second. Tears had poured down his face as he’d taken his first pain-filled steps. The physical therapy was a barely tolerable event for many weeks.

The sunlight that trickled through the faded curtains turned to shadows as the third day ended. His stomach had stopped growling. Hunger now replaced with pangs of hollowness.

Yet Taylor could not be motivated to move. At this point he’d consider wetting his pants instead of having to deal with the agony of having to stand up.

Sitting too long did that to an old injury. It turned stiff and painful, which was the reason every morning was not exactly a fun time.

There was mumbling outside and he stared at the door. The manager was talking to someone. He couldn’t make out the other voice, but it was deep. Probably it was someone wanting to get into the room next door or something. He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes closed. One more day, maybe two and he’d go directly to the pain management place to see the doctor.

Too bad a hip couldn’t be amputated.

“Open the door or I’ll kick it down,” a familiar voice said from the other side. “I mean it Taylor. Open the fucking door.” It was either Luke or Tobias on the other side. Probably Luke from the way his deep voice lowered when threatening.

The fucker was intimidating as hell. Most people gave him a wide berth whenever he passed them.

Unlike most people, Taylor didn’t give a rat’s ass what the guy threatened him with.

“Fuck you,” Taylor replied. The hoarseness of his voice was just above a whisper. Damn. So much for sounding like “I’m all right.”

Bang. Bang. Whoosh.

There were two kicks and daylight streamed in around the huge asshole who stood in the entrance. He wore a worn baseball cap and wraparound sunglasses, which meant he’d ridden his motorcycle. The heavy boots crunched over splinters of wood as he stalked toward him.

The manager screamed that he’d found the key and telling Luke he’d pay for damages and calling the cops.