Page 4 of Revival

It's been a month since my last episode. An entire month without the terror of that moment that took Bailey from me replaying itself over and over in my dreams. An entire month without my brain reminding me of my inadequacies, of my inability to protect someone I love.

And an entire month is the perfect amount of time to develop a false sense of security. I finally start to let my guard down, and as soon as I do, the darkness rears its ugly head right back into mine. I'm beginning to think this nightmare will never end—literally and figuratively.

Guilt consumes my days; terror consumes my nights.

And Bailey continues to lay in that bed, unmoving, unspeaking.

Lying back down, fear of closing my eyes rushes over my body. Sleep only allows my mind freedom. Freedom for the memories to take over. Memories I'm trying hard to forget.

I turn on the TV and decide to stream another episode ofThe Golden Girls. My doctor suggested finding something to have on in the background to distract my mind, something to remind me of happier times. I can't think of better times than growing up with my grandma and watching her favorite stories.

I'm startled awake again, but this time, by the alarm. Seven-thirty comes early when you've been up most of the night. Jumping in the shower, I attempt to wash away the remnants of a tumultuous night.

I need to get my shit together, or I'll never be able to move on.

Within an hour, my bags are packed, my condo is locked up tight, and I'm on the road. Just a few stops before I get the hell out of a town whose residents look at me with nothing but sadness and pity—and occasionally the worst of them, blame—and begin my escape.

As I pull my truck into the parking lot, my body starts to shake. It's been three months, and I still can't bring myself to walk through those doors.

The sign on the building flashes Roman Empire Tattoo.

This shop was supposed to be my forever. The culmination of all my dreams and aspirations, years of hard work and dedication. I worked my ass off for this dream, and just as I reached the top, everything was taken from me with a single shot.

Kevin knocks on the window, startling me from my thoughts. "You okay, man?" he asks as he steps outside to join me in front of the shop. He knows enough to not ask that I come inside.

"I'm good. Thanks for meeting me so early. I know how much tattoo artists like to get up before noon," I joke.

"Of course. You said it was urgent."

I hand him a large manila envelope.

"What's this?" he asks.

"The deed to the shop. It's yours, man. I'm walking away."

He shoves the papers back at me, refusing to accept them. "No fucking way. Whether you're here or not, this is your empire. I was just the guy lucky enough to go on the ride with you."

Kevin was an apprentice at a shop I worked at near the beginning of my career. He's an artist beyond anything I've ever seen, and I have been proud to have him as my friend and business partner. But this isn't my world anymore.

"Look, the shop is yours. It's a done deal. If I ever do decide to join the game again, I think I know a guy who might give me a job."

"Any time, brother. Any time.” We shake hands, and as I turn to leave, Kevin says, “Hold up a minute. I have something for you before you take off." Kevin runs into the shop, returning with a duffle bag full of equipment. "Maybe the guys you're on the road with will want some ink from the famous Rome Abrams."

I toss the bag in the back seat, where it will stay. "I'll call you in a few weeks." I'm not a touchy-feely guy, but Kevin pulls me into a hug. Not knowing when I'll see him again, I don't fight the embrace.

We part ways and he walks into what is now his shop as I drive away from what used to be mine.

Grabbing my phone, I send my buddy Jacob a text.

Me:Leaving SoCal now. See you in a few days.

J:Looking forward to it, brother.

I find my favorite podcast and pull my old truck onto the road. This solo stuff is new to me. I'm not the best at being alone, especially for extended periods. Being an only child, I surrounded myself with friends as soon as I was old enough to go to school. It was one of the things I enjoyed most about tattooing: getting to work all day with your buddies while creating art on a plethora of people. I was never alone.

Chapter Four

Andrea