Page 193 of The Monster and the Masochist

“She’s in her gym. Next to the embalming room. Ryan and Callum… they’re with her now, but… she fights them too.”

Fuck.

My head snapped to the abrasive sound of glass smashing downstairs and distant angry voices.

“Jesus–Theo!”

“Come on, Ryan, fucking fight me!”

Cal’s voice drifted up the stairs next, and I shuddered at his cold tone. I hadn’t heard him sound like that in a long time. Not since he’d met Ryan.

“I get that you’re upset, but if you threaten Ryan again, I will put you on your fucking ass.”

“Fucking do it! Hit me!” Theo screamed, and then I was running.

I’d barely managed to take a sip of the tequila I’d found in my mother’s kitchen when Ryan had interrupted me.

In my manic need to drown out the phantom touches, I hadn’t exactly been quiet in my desperate hunt for vodka, and I must have woken him up as I’d crashed through the house.

“Theo? What are you doing here?” His confusion quickly turned to concern as he took in the cursed heels that were still somehow on my feet, and the bottle of alcohol I was clutching at my side.

“Theo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I just… came to train,” I lied, barely managing to get the words out of my mouth as I stumbled past him.

My ankle rolled in the stupid fucking heels, and I snarled in frustration before kicking them off so hard they launched across the kitchen.

One of them hit the vase of lilies on the kitchen table, and it went tumbling to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

I stepped over the wet, broken glass, and the bite of pain that erupted through me as my bare feet lacerated on the debris was a brief reprieve from the gentle touches I could still feel running up and down the insides of my thighs.

“Jesus Christ, Theo, what the fuck?” Ryan bellowed, and I gritted my teeth against the unbearable buzzing feeling that was quickly overwhelming me.

Ignoring my brother, I stumbled down the stairs in an attempt to get away from him, taking a deep swig of tequila as I went.

There was more shouting, but I slammed the door to the basement shut behind me in what I hoped was a clear sign I needed to be left alone.

The world was spinning, and I couldn’t tell which way was up or down as I made my way down the cold, dark halls toward the small gym I’d set up next to the embalming room.

Ryan usually left me alone when I was in there.

He knew not to bother me when I was training.

He would take the hint…

I just needed… I needed a quiet place to drink this bottle of tequila until I was too wasted to succumb to the flashbacks.

I just needed…

I just needed a minute…

Relying almost entirely on muscle memory, I found myself in my tiny concrete sanctuary, and I took another burning swig of tequila.

It wouldn’t be long now.

A couple more sips, and the booze would kick in, and I’d be able to close my eyes again without seeing that fucking office…

Without seeing his face…