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“Yeah. What day is it?”
“Saturday. You’ve been out for a few days.”
“Out like…”
“You passed out. I think Fox did some kind of voodoo on you.”
“Oh.” That was disappointing. When I woke up still in one piece, I thought I’d done it alone, beaten the addiction and somehow proven that…I was strong enough.
“It was really bad,” she said, pressing her hand to her neck. My eyes were instantly drawn to her hand, and a flash of anger washed over me, but it wasn’t at her. There was something about the gesture that my memories were trying to decipher. It was just locked deep inside my head.
“I need to shower.”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’m sure that’ll make you feel better.”
I watched her for another minute, my eyes glued to her hand. What was it about the gesture that had me so freaked out? I felt like I wanted to punch myself, but I couldn’t remember why.
“Jack?”
“Huh?”
“Are you okay?”
“Uh…probably just hungry.”
“Well, I can take care of that. There are fresh clothes in the dresser.”
I nodded as she shut the door, wondering just how bad it was while I was out of it. Had she witnessed me at my lowest? I prayed Jason kept her from me, maybe closed her in another room while the drugs left my system. I headed for the bathroom, wincing when I stepped on something sharp. A shard of wood stuck out of the bottom of my foot, and when I pulled it out, I remembered the anger rushing through me as I threw a table across the room. I looked up and saw the hole in the wall.
I stripped out of the smelly clothes and turned on the water. A dull headache throbbed, but it was barely noticeable in comparison to what I normally felt. Warm water cascaded over my body, soothing my sore muscles. It felt like I’d run a marathon for the past four days. Basically, I was just fucking tired. Standing under the shower for even five minutes was enough to wear me out. I rested my palm on the tile wall and did my best not to fall over. Eventually, I had to start washing. I needed to get out before my legs collapsed under me.
It was when I was running the washcloth over my neck that the memory hit. Her terrified eyes stared at me as I crushed her throat under my hand. I dropped the washcloth, shutting off the water as I tore the shower curtain open and snatched a towel to wrap around mywaist. In seconds, I was ripping the door off the hinges to get to her. She spun, surprised when she saw me charging toward her.
She was scared of me, backing away as I walked up to her and grabbed her head, gently twisting it up so I could see the bruises on her neck. I was aware of the silence in the room, how everyone watched every move I made. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t release her as I stared at the damage I had done.
“I did that,” I croaked out, more broken than I’d ever felt before. I’d never, not once in my life hurt a woman. I used to be able to say that. Now…
“Jack, you didn’t know what you were doing. It was the drugs?—”
“I put my hands on you,” I growled. “I could have killed you.”
“I got away,” she insisted. “I kneed you in the crotch. Trust me, I know how to handle myself.”
“I put my fucking hands on you!” I shouted, tears pricking my eyes unwillingly. I had done it, become the one person I swore I never would. I was my father.
My hands slid from her soft skin as I took a step back, devastated by the reality of what happened. It didn’t matter that I was on drugs. It didn’t matter that I was sick. I had become uncontrollable, and she paid the price for it.
“Jack—”
“I need to leave. Now.”
“Jack,” she pleaded, rushing forward.
I scrambled further away from her, unable to even look at her. The damage I’d done, it was unforgivable. “Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t come near me. I’m no good for you.”
“Is that really what you think? That you get to order me around?”
“Yes, because you have a kid to think about, and I shouldn’t be anywhere near him!”
