Page 26 of I’m The Worst

My eyes drag down her naked body. Her spine. The sharp edges of her ribs. The curve of her hips. The stage flashes in my head—her back arched under my hands, my cock buried in her tight cunt, my mouth on her throat, her tits against my chest.

Heat crawls up my neck, and I grit my teeth. My fingers twitch like they want something to break.

When she’s done, she stays sitting on the edge of the bed like she’s waiting for something. I cross the room and grab the wooden chair. The legs scrape loudly against the floorboards as I drag it to the door.

“What are you doing?”

I wedge the chair under the handle and shove it tight.

“I’m not going to run again.”

I test the chair once more. The wood creaks.

She shifts on the mattress. “I won’t.”

I drop into the other chair near the window. Back to the wall. Door and bed both in my line of sight.

“You’re not sleeping?” she asks, her voice too soft.

“Go to bed.”

“I said I won’t⁠—”

“Enough,” I bite out.

She lies down slowly, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Her eyes stay on me.

I ignore them.

I lean forward, forearms on my knees, gaze moving through the room. Window. Door. Corners. Shadows. My neck pops when I roll it. Exhaustion presses behind my eyes, but sleep isn’t happening tonight.

Across the room, her breathing finally evens out. I stay where I am. Watching the door. Listening to the storm. Counting the seconds between her breaths. If the rhythm changes, I’ll hear it.

I don’t look at her again.

But I don’t miss a single one

Idon’t know how many days have passed.

Don’t know how many times I’ve woken up in this bed, even though I fall asleep curled under it. Wolff comes and goes. Always there, but never really there. He leaves trays of food and disappears for hours. The only thing I know for sure is that now he still sits in the chair in the corner.

And I can’t look him in the eye.

Not after touching him in his sleep. Not after begging him to rape me.

The humiliation is unbearable.

I was desperate. Out of my mind. I know withdrawals make people do things they wouldn’t normally do. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

Now, the drugs are gone but the darkness isn’t. It lingers, settling into my bones, poisoning every thought. The cravings aren’t as sharp, but they wait beneath the surface. Offering me the one thing I can’t have.

Relief.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this—live without the drugs. They were my escape. Now, I’m trapped.

And I resent Wolff for it.

I know he’s the reason I’m alive, but I also know he’s the reason I have to feel everything. Every ache, every memory, every hellish nightmare. I shift under the blankets, my hips sore, my tailbone raw from too many hours in bed. I need to move.