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PROLOGUE
NOAH
SIX MONTHS AGO
There is nothing more that I hate than people. In particular, sniffling fuckers like the piece of shit who thought he could try to steal from me with the most pathetic looking knife I’ve ever seen. I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to get back home to Seattle, even though I hate it there as much as I do here on the East Coast, where I’ve been living for the past year. I’m only going back home because of my grandfather’s trust fund that I need to claim now that I’m twenty-five. But it’s a change. I’m bored. Bored of life and the bullshit it has to offer like this crying cunt whose nose I’ve just broken. You’d think I’d cut his leg off with how loud his irritating cries are.
I don’t have any tolerance. Granted, I’m not in the best neighborhood, but I needed to get out of my apartment tonight, and on my walk, I somehow drifted to this side of town. I’ve been restless lately. I can’t sleep or focus. It’s been the same most of my life. I’m a loner. A drifter. I don’t ever remember having arelationship with my parents from a very early age. The nannies that passed through the house cared for me with the basics, but from the comparisons I’d witnessed with kids from school, I was never shown what affection or love was. I don’t even know what the fuck that word means. I’m not complaining as I was never sad about it. I was never sad or joyful about anything. I mean, fuck, I’ve haven’t cried since I had control of my mind. I was always just content with my own company. I watched people a lot in my childhood home. I picked up on how to behave, what socially acceptable behavior was, what lying was. I could never focus too long on one thing as boredom was and still is real for me. It makes me irrational and impatient. It’s only gotten worse as I get older. I think most psychologists would blame my upbringing, but I think it’s exactly who I was born to be.
My father was a domineering guy with the people around him, but he never affected me. When I was in his presence, he always seemed to eye me with suspicion, always lost in thought as he studied me. I decided it was because he saw something different in me as I got older and bigger. Maybe I was too much like my bitch of a mother. Now, she is a class act. I can’t recall a single time in my life where we were alone together. She often shooed me away if I came into the room. Her life is one big social event and her resting bitch face is a constant. I’m surprised she can socialize with others or even wants to. Since I’ve become a grown man, my father has had more interest in me helping with his business, which helps keep the boredom away. My mother is still the same, she acts no different towards me than she did when I was a child. I’ve never had anyone in my life that I’ve given a shit about or wanted to even talk to.
The groaning idiot on the ground pulls me back from the memories.
“Get the fuck up.”
I grab the piece of shit thief by his collar and push him into the wall. This street is depressing. It stinks of piss and is littered with needles, and god knows what else. But this is the most entertained I’ve been in a while.
“Hey man, I was only after some cash. Desperate times, no need to get angry.”
“You mean like threatening to stab someone? Like you just did to me?”
I’m so sick of fuckers like this. Excuse after excuse. Evil knows evil, and this guy is right down there in the fire pits with me.
As I move back from him because his bad breath is making me nauseous, he lunges for me with a smaller knife that he pulls out from the inside of his jacket. I duck down as he approaches me and slam my shoulder into his stomach, forcing him to the ground and making the knife fall out of his hand. He tries to hit out, but a blow to his belly with my fist halts his movements as he attempts to hold himself steady against the wall. Now, if he’d just backed off, I could’ve maybe moved along. But he’ll never learn.
I pick up the small knife that he dropped and walk over to where he is still huddled over himself, gripping his stomach. Grabbing his long hair, I force his head back, and he shouts in pain as I tighten my hold.
“You picked the wrong guy,” I say as I stab the knife up under his chin, where it pierces through the tissue with ease until the tip of the blade is visible in his mouth. He collapses backward, his back slumped up against the wall. His breathing is panicked, but he’s mostly silent. It’s probably the shock.
I search the ground to find the other knife he threatened me with and pick it up, examining the handle that has been taped so many times with duct tape to keep it attached to the blade. It looks comical. But it will serve its purpose. Nobody touches me.
“Just be grateful you won’t need money where you’re going.”
I laugh and stab the knife into his chest. His half-closed eyes open in surprise but start to dim shortly after. Blood drips from his mouth onto his chest, where the blood spreads like a wine spill. I grab some tissues that I keep in my pocket and clean the handles on both knives to remove any of my fingerprints while they remain in his body. Then, I try as best I can to clean my hands. What a mess. Grabbing my phone, I take a quick picture of the useless fucker to store away. Some people collect stickers or stamps, I collect images of death.
With this evening’s entertainment being better than I thought, I leisurely walk back to my apartment, whistling into the night, knowing I’ll sleep a little better.
CHAPTER 1
CHASE
My phone beeps for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, and I’m very tempted to throw the fucking thing out of the window. The sun hasn't even come up yet, and my annoying-as-hell ex is messaging me like he has done every day for the past two weeks since I dumped his cheating ass. I roll onto my side in my sumptuous queen bed, looking at the window where I can see hints of the moon glowing in the darkness, peeking through my half-drawn curtains. I should've shut my phone off, but out of habit, I left it on, and now my mind is so damn busy thinking of ways to get my ex to leave me the hell alone, I won’t be able to get back to sleep now.
I reach for my phone on the bedside table to check the time, noticing the multiple unopened messages from Wade. It's four am. I groan. I have to be up in three hours for another long day of work where I listen to other people's problems. I work as a therapist at a local private practice. I'm only twenty-eight, but seeing what some of these patients struggle with mentally has aged me significantly. I don’t see the world through rose-tinted glasses. All I see is pain and struggle for the few good people in this world. Cutting my mind off from work has always beena difficulty for me. I seem to absorb other people’s problems and have this overwhelming need to find a solution, then obsess about it.
I wanted to help others. My parents were the classic toxic-as-shit couple who loved the bottle more than their kids. My older brother, Tyler, pretty much raised me, which enabled me to go to college to get an education so I could go out into the world and help others like us.
It was cathartic at first, and I felt like I was giving something back to the community, but lately, it's just getting me down. I think Wade has something to do with that. The last two months of our relationship was hell. Wade had become distant, spending less time with me and pulling away from any affectionate touch. I ignored it at first as I know how stressful his job as a lawyer can be. But, those excuses I made were quickly squashed when I found him fucking around with one of his work colleagues from his law firm. God knows how long it had been going on. All that shit bled into the rest of my life, leaving me feeling like I’m drowning. Loneliness seeps into my bones daily, to the point I now feel invisible. Rolling onto my back, I try to relax with some calming breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Calmly and steadily, my softer breaths relax the rhythm of my heart, and I slowly feel my mind clearing, followed by the drifting sensation of a peaceful sleep.
My alarm blares,waking me from the most prolonged undisturbed sleep I’ve had for weeks, and I deflate at the thought of having to be an adult today. I have to force myself out of bed to start getting ready for my day.
Man up, Chase, life doesn't stop,I say to myself. Now that I’m up, I make my way to the bathroom and start my regular routine; piss, shower, shave and brush my teeth. As I look in the mirror and remove the steam left from the shower with my hand, I let out a self-pitying sigh. I look like shit. My eyes have dark circles, making the blue look like a depressing gray, similar to a cloud before the storm. My skin looks dull, and my forehead lines look more prominent, making me look haggard, but coffee will have to get me through.
Getting ready, I choose my dark brown pants with a matching belt along with my long-sleeved white button-down shirt. I roll up the sleeves to my elbows, giving me a more casual look. I fuss with my dark brown hair that’s starting to curl on the top because it needs cutting, but I do the best with what I've got. Heading downstairs, I press play on my music playlist.Basket Caseby Green Day comes on, which makes me snort. It’s fitting to describe my current life. I make myself a bowl of granola with some milk and scarf it down quickly with a black coffee. After I finish and take care of the dishes, I pack away my laptop into my messenger bag, head out of the door of my modest two-bedroom house, get into my scratched-up shitty car, and drive off to work.
My appointments today aren't too bad. I have two regular patients I'm meeting with this morning who I’ve been seeing for a year, and this afternoon, I have a new referral attending his first appointment. He’s twenty-five and moved here six months ago. You can never predict how the first sessions will go. They tend to be the hardest because you have to assess what you’re dealing with quickly and often can be met with resistance, especially young men who struggle to open up, and have experienced trauma.
Arriving at work, I park in my assigned space by the entrance, which is a massive plus as it looks like we are about to have a downpour. Shit. I didn't bring a jacket. The lack of sleephas sent my brain offline, and my common sense has left the building. Getting out of the car, I walk briskly to get inside before I turn into a drowned rat. Shaking myself off from the rain in the large reception area, I walk to my office, where Liam walks up beside me with one of his irritating, happy morning smiles. I don't trust people who smile in the morning.
