Jackson-

After dropping Maggie off I headed straight for home.  The sun was just beginning to set, allowing an orange glow to filter through the traffic-jammed streets of Downtown Phoenix. Luckily, I only have to travel five minutes down the road. It would be less considering I'm only a few blocks from her apartment, yet the bumper to bumper traffic adds time.

The first time I saw an Arizona sunset I was blown away by its beauty. Orange and pinks graced the blue sky filling it with color and grace as the sun-kissed the world goodnight. I trekked to the top of Lookout mountain, far above the hustle and bustle of the city resulting in the people below to appear no bigger than ants and just relished in the scene before me.

Lookout Mountain became a refuge, an area to run away with my thoughts. It was a place to forget and a place to remember all the same. When I met Maggie we were distracted by everything around us, so I brought her with me.

I needed to see her without the pressure of the National Book Awards, without the distraction of Sam the bartender who also fought for her attention. Something inside me had to know her further, deeper than I'd known other women and so I took her to my private utopia.

Now the sunset blinds the traffic of motorists in front of me, resulting in this irritating bumper to bumper traffic. Giving me time to think about going home to an empty penthouse, alone. 

Before Maggie, the thought of being alone would have me jumping for joy.  I enjoyed the casual company of women but I always preferred solitude over the pointless conversations they'd attempt afterwards.

Now the thought of that looming empty grey apartment brings dread. I can't imagine a beautiful evening sunset or the glowing city view without her silhouette framing it. 

I finally pull up to my penthouse and toss the keys to the valet before making the walk to the elevator. Despite the busy traffic outside, it seems unusually quiet in the large and luxurious lobby brimming with chandeliers and vaulted ceilings. For once, I don't have to share the elevator with a single soul, which is unusual for this popping complex.

The thought of going out for a drink dawns on me, but only for a split second when I'm reminded of where that landed me in the past.  It may not be the primary cause of Maggie's accident but it surely was a catalyst.

If I had never sat down with Julie for a drink in Seattle than she would have never shown up to my apartment in the middle of the night.  If Julie had never shown up, Maggie would never have misinterpreted our conversation and she never would have left in the middle of that storm. 

The elevator door chimes before opening, signaling my arrival on the thirtieth floor.  I step out into the dimly lit hallway and make my way to my door, walking the same halls Maggie scampered through when she fled in such a hurry.

My temper begins to flare and rabid thoughts run through my mind uncontrollably, a nice flat glass of whiskey starts looking more and more appealing. 

For a moment, before severely scolding myself, I'm jealous of Maggie's memory loss. In a sick way, she's lucky she doesn't remember anything about that disastrous night, yet my mind is plagued with the gory images.

"You've won, you can have him." Maggie growls at Julie and my mouth drops in shock. She's ready to give up without hearing an explanation? How much could she possibly have heard?

Maggie storms passed me and her shoulder catches mine wrenching my body to the side but she doesn't slow, instead, she forcefully makes her way into our bedroom.

The wretched memories plague this house but I don't dare follow them to the bedroom, instead, I turn for the kitchen.

Quickly fleeing the unwanted thoughts, I avoid lighting the halls and allow the glow of the city lights below to continue barely illuminating it.  I pace straight into the kitchen and open the fridge staring into the bright blinding lit up box I realize, empty.

I groan with disappointment and lean my head on the refrigerator door. I haven't been home to stock it and even if it were stocked, it would absolutely be rotten.  I was always more of a takeout guy, despite my knack for cooking which Maggie properly lacks.

The refrigerated air feels nice on my skin, the weather in Phoenix is relentless and I've kept my AC a bit warmer while I was gone. I sulk knowing it will take some time to get this apartment cooled down to a livable temperature again.

I release my hold on the fridge door, letting it slam shut and pull my shirt over my head then toss it lazily on the dining room chair.  There's no need to be cleanly, I don't imagine I'll have company for a while. 

The apartment feels so empty without the sound of Maggie's laugh echoing through it.  I've only the basic black leather furnishings, can't say I've cared enough to make this feel much like a home. So sounds easily reverberate off the walls, giving lovemaking a much more acoustic sound.

I smile thinking of all the rooms we've broken in, then quickly frown remembering my loss.  I grab a bottle of whiskey from one of the dark stained cabinets and take it to the bedroom with me, just in case.

My room is a mess, clothes strewn about, bed unmade, and an old dried up coffee cup left from the same night she walked out the door. Disgusted, I simply toss it in the bathroom bin. I can't be bothered to deal with that mess.

Without taking off my jeans I lay down in bed and start wondering about Maggie. The temptation to call her is strong, but my willpower overcomes it. I can't have her thinking I'm some sort of pest.

The ceiling taunts me, playing out scenes that I've been desperately avoiding revisiting. Regardless of whether my eyelids are open or closed the scene plays out in my head and I'm forced to watch the gruesome cinema unfold again and again.

I drive slower than I usually do, something tells me to be careful on this dark road. I can't imagine taking this route in this awful weather, especially in her run-down car. I begin to doubt that she even came this way until I see it. The glow of fading tail lights in the distance, but they're upside down.

My heart leaps into my chest as I press down on the pedal urging my car forward. Her car is flipped over lying on its head and the car is somehow still on. How long has it been here? Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes? How long since she left my apartment?

I throw my car in park and sling the door open, not bothering to power it down or shut the door behind me.

"Maggie?!" I scream her name repeatedly as I run towards the car as fast as my legs will take me.

I roll over on my side, hoping to stare at the bare grey walls that line my room but the bottle of whiskey on my nightstand stares back at me. I feel as if I'm bloody Alice in Wonderland and the label on the bottle is whispering, "Drink me."

My legs carry me forward, closer to the wreck but my body is numb. I know I'm moving because the nightmare just continues getting closer as I float towards the disaster. I approach the car and spot her through the driver's side window, the glass has shattered, the dash caved in, and her body hangs lifeless strapped in by her belt.

It feels as if time has slowed and sounds are muted. I hear obnoxiously loud screaming and at first, I'm unsure of where it's coming from, it can't possibly be Maggie. Then I realize I'm the one making these terrifying noises. Tears stream down my face and waves of sobs rip through my body as I pry open the smashed door.

Panic runs through me as I attempt to wake her but she doesn't flinch or utter a single sound. I'm not even sure if she's breathing, she just continues dangling by her belt. I'm hesitant, unsure if I should drag her out myself or call for help but I can't leave her like this, not even for a split-second.

I grip my arms around her and lift her body against mine. She's cold and the blood smeared all over her face and body coat my arms and face. I grip the belt and attempt to unlatch it but it's somehow bent in a way that won't dislodge. The airbag hadn't gone off in this shitty old car, probably causing her belt to pull and the metal to bend. I told her to get a new one but she wouldn't listen and now it might have killed her.

Fuck!

I glance around me for anything that might help cut the seat-belt and notice a slice of glass large enough for me to use as a blade. I feverishly yank my shirt off then wrap it around my hand before palming the glass and rubbing it against the strong fabric.

It finally comes loose and I attempt to gently pull Maggie from the wreckage, careful not to move her too much. After hauling her lifeless body a yard away from the accident, I lay her down gently in the mud, then sprint back to my Charger as fast as my legs will take me.

I dial 911 with trembling fingers and they answer immediately, without waiting for the operator's response I scream our location into the phone.

As fast as my legs will take me, I scamper back to Maggie and fall to my knees in the sludge. Cautiously, I attempt to wipe some of the dried blood from her beautiful face and speak to her, coaxing her to come back to me.

That's it.

I stand abruptly and decide no matter how much I may love her, my entire world cannot revolve around this night. If I'm going to keep myself from going bloody nuts, I have to get out of here.

There are a few amenities The Tower has offered and I've never taken part in any of them.

I grab the bottle off the nightstand and chuck it in the bin on my way out the door. Tonight's the night I actually make use of the gym.

After making my way through the dimly lit hallways to the luxurious fitness area, I find myself in a large room lined with mirrors. Benches for pressing weights, treadmills, stair-steppers, all the equipment I can imagine I'd need are all here within reach.

Unsure of where to start, I simply grab a few weights lined along the mirror and lay on my back on one of the benches. My bare skin sticks slightly to the leather as my arms rise and fall against the pressure.

I've always heard of people working out their emotions physically, but I've never actually attempted it myself. Well, other than beating the shit out of someone, that is. Besides a good fucking, there's nothing quite as satisfactory at releasing aggression as pounding your fist into someone else's flesh.

I lift weights for about thirty minutes but I can't feel any of the tension lifted from my chest, so I move on to jogging. The treadmill undoubtedly helps, but further down and through a murky glass door, I notice a punching bag that seems to be beckoning me.

The lights in the room are turned off so only the emergency bulb dimly lights the room.  I don't bother turning them on because I can't imagine I'll be here much longer.  Working out hasn't helped much and the faint glow in the room matches my gloomy mood.

However, I'm quickly proved wrong as each time my fist connects with the sand-filled bag, a little of my anxiety and aggression fade away.  One punch, another, a few more, ten more, twenty more, harder, faster, until I've spent an hour pounding my bare fists into the limp bag.

Before long, I'm too exhausted to go on and my knuckles are red and bloodied.  I'm drenched in sweat, the light beads that originally glistened on my skin turned into streams pouring from my hair and into my eyes.  My jeans are also saturated, rubbing awkwardly against my skin and reminding me to buy gym clothes in the near future.

After a resounding success and a quick shower, I can say I'm physically exhausted enough to crawl into bed with only hollow thoughts. I fall into the sheets wearing nothing but a large fluffy white towel and pass out the second my head hits the pillow.

The dawn light surges brightly through my to ceiling to floor windows and I sprightly hop out of bed feeling fully rested. I haven't felt this rested since- Well since Maggie slept next to me.

But even now, a painful hole widens in my chest just with the mere mention of her name. I feel the lack of her everywhere I look, so I decide on escaping. The office would be the perfect distraction.  

After a hot shower, I comb my wet hair from my eyes with my fingers and toss on a clean pair of boxer briefs and a pair of dark jeans. I pull a simple white Hanes t-shirt from a closet hanger and toss it on as I'm heading out the door.

It's early enough so the traffic is light on my way to work and I make it there in half the time. Despite it still being early morning the office is filled with workers, all running around in different directions filled with hustle and undoubtedly all working under harsh deadlines.

Luckily most people here are either afraid of me or I've slept with them and neglected to speak to them again, so they always politely give me a clear pathway from the elevator on the fifteenth floor to my office.

Maggie Carpenter.

The office next to mine has her name etched into the door and I stare at it for a moment, thoughtfully wondering when she'll be back before I enter my own empty office and decide to call her.

I've given her enough space, a full twelve hours or so and I can't be bothered to wait for another twelve before I hear her voice.

My phone lights up with her name after I enter her number and I hold it to my ear, waiting for her voice to tickle my ears.

Nothing.

I dial again, thinking maybe she just didn't hear her phone. She sleeps like the dead so it's a possibility she's slept through my call.

Again, nothing.

I walk to the window and stare out at the view. It's not as nice as mine at home or on top of Lookout Mountain, but it's still got a decent view for being fifteen floors up.

I watch the frenzied people below exit their vehicles and run inside the building.  I examine each one, wondering how many little people will come and go before I find Maggie.

I look towards the bar she used to work at and a thought comes to mind, Bethany. I dial her line and Bethany picks up after a few short rings, she's always reliable.

"Maggie's not here, Jack." Bethany answers with an immediate complaint.

"It's ten in the bloody morning, where is she then?" She never wakes up this early.

"She's actually on her way to the office." Bethany states.

"So soon?" I can't imagine her getting back to work so soon after the accident, but then again Maggie always seems to surprise me. Then my mind drifts to the destroyed Hyundai Sonata that I found her in and I realize, there's no way she's driving herself. "Who is she with?"

Silence fills the line and before Bethany can think of an answer I see Nick's Lexus pull to the front of our building and a laughing Maggie get out of the passenger seat.

"Jack, she just needed a ride-" Bethany starts but I quickly cut her off.

"Thanks." I reply to Beth through grit teeth and hang up the phone before watching the two interact below.

Maggie shamelessly laughs along to whatever Nick has just said, her sun-kissed brunette hair flowing in the wind as she tips her head back carelessly. I feel my heart clench in my chest as his hand slides to the middle of her back and he guides her to the door.

This kid is just begging for a beating.

I press my forehead against the glass window and close my eyes, forcing myself to take deep breaths. If I go down there and beat his ass I'll just scare Maggie and that is definitely not how I want her to see me.

The angel and devil on my shoulder battle each other relentlessly for what feels like hours but could only be a minute until I straighten myself up and head towards the lobby.