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“It’s just medication for when I get flustered,” I answered, “No big deal,” I added, trying to convince her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying what I was selling.
Her arms folded and she leaned against the bedroom door frame. “I’ve never seen you take that medication once. Let me see it,” she pressed on. Her arms unfolded, and she started walking closer to me.
“Azzaria, it’s no big deal.”
“Then show me. If it’s not a big deal, you can show me the bottle.” She had a point in what she said and fuck it, I took it from between my crotch and handed it to her.
As her eyes landed on the name, both shock and fear ran through her body, and I knew why. EVZIO was the drug her father constantly took, and it’s the one that started tripping him out.
I read it when I had that file on him. The only difference was I didn’t take them every day, and I wasn’t an addict. He was a full-on addict and psychopath. That’s why I murdered him, and felt no guilt.
“How long have you been taking this?”
“I’ve had it since I was younger,” I confessed, “I take it when I have night terrors or when I get flustered.”
She let out a whimper, and a single tear fell from her eyes. “I know that you know what this medication can do to a person.” This entire Saturday was messed up, and I wanted it to end. If those people didn’t come to my house, I wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place.
“I’ve been taking it since I was about ten. Initially, it was prescribed, but when it became excessive, my granddad attempted to wean me off the medication. However, it was beneficial for me, so he had me closely monitored. Despite our wealth, my childhood was still challenging. After what happened with Annalise, I nearly overdosed on them, which upset Mara, especially. I’m not addicted; I use it because it helps.”
“We’ll get through it, together.” Her words were laced with comfort, and I was glad for it. I had expected a different reaction, but she made me feel comfortable, she made me feel safe. She made me feel like I was home.
“I love you,” I whispered and nestled my head against her chest.
“I love you too,” she responded.
“Wanna make out?” I asked with a smirk on my face.
She placed her hands on my cheek, and I smashed our lips together. When she and I kissed, it wasn’t soft or gentle. It was raw, sloppy, and filled with passion. I loved how passionate she was with me, and for the minutes we were caught up in this, I felt myself forgetting everything. We forgot all our troubles when we were together.
CHAPTER 32
Dillon
If you had asked me about therapy a year ago, I would’ve called it foolish. However, I’ve recently found myself doing things I never thought I would do. One example is going to therapy. Azzaria is undeniably having an influence on me, and I’m not certain if it’s for the better or worse.
The night was dark, except for the dim glow of a few distant streetlights that cast eerie shadows across the empty parking lot. I sat on the hood of my car, a bag of cold, half-eaten fries in my hand, Taylor Swift’s 1989 album in the background and my mind as cluttered as the world around us.
She, with her wide, thoughtful eyes, sat beside me, peering at me as she nibbled on a fry and singing her heart out. The silence between us was comfortable. But then she broke the quiet, her voice barely above a whisper, “Dill, what do you think of therapy?”
I paused, taking a deep breath as I considered her question. Therapy? It’s not something I had ever seriously considered. I’ve seen how awful therapists can be, and it wasn’t something I actively saw myself doing.
“Honestly,” I began, my gaze fixed on the dark horizon, “it’s not my cup of tea.”
Her fingers brushed against mine, warm and comforting. “I understand, but I think it might be good for you. For us.”
I turned my head to look at her, her soft features illuminated by the pale moonlight. “You think so?”
She nodded gently, her eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s helpful to talk to someone, you know? A professional who can guide you through whatever is bothering you. And quite a lot bothers you, and there’s a lot of trauma you haven’t healed from.”
I shifted on the cold metal beneath me, my thoughts racing. She was right, partially. “I’m just not sure if I want to go that route.”
Her fingers tightened around mine, and she leaned in closer. “It would make me really happy if you considered it. We could even do it together if that makes you more comfortable.”
I looked into her eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation or insincerity. But there was only genuine concern and love. The thought of making her happy, of taking this step together, tugged at my heart.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said, my voice quieter than before. A small smile danced on her lips, and she squeezed my hand gently.
“Okay.”
