Page 67 of Save Me

I’ve only thrown up three times, which isn’t bad considering I’ve wanted to about thirty-seven times. This is terrible. Terrible!

Maddox came back last night when I was in the living room, said nothing, then stalked upstairs. I’ve considered texting him, calling him, emailing him, and hiring a carrier pigeon service to drop a note. But what is that going to do? Make me feel better?

Although I am supposed to be saving myself, doesn’t that include making me feel better?

Not at the cost of Maddox, and you know dang well he could speak to you if he wanted to.

Whatever this voice is in my head needs to stop. Hey, Alexa, how do I delete a conscience in three easy steps?

I just want Maddox to know how sorry I am and how I’ll do better, and if he could just know that right now, then everything will be okay.

“Did he say he was leaving?” I ask Princess, who naturally doesn’t answer me.

Fluffer nutter, I think I’m going to explode. Was this just a sleep-deprived terror-based decision, and maybe it is actually better for me to check on him? What if he interprets my absence as disinterest?

I pick up my phone, hands shaking. I can’t get rid of this yucky feeling.

Fudge, I shouldn't do it. But there’s this incessant pounding in my head that says if I do it, things will get better, and I should just do it, just do it quickly.

No. I press my hands to the sides of my head, but the thoughts don’t stop.

What was that thing I did when I was panicking? Right, sour candy.

I dart to the kitchen, rummaging around in the shelves. No sour candy? Are you kidding me?

Wait, what was that other thing that could help? Ice?

I rip open the freezer. Where is the ice? Do I have ice? Oh no, do I not have that either? I see the tray tilted on its side and snatch it out, grab a bowl, and throw the ice and cold water in.

Maddox hates me, holy fudge, he hates me.

I plunge my head in. It doesn’t fully fit with my forehead sticking out a bit, but the longer my face sits there, the colder it gets. There’s a piece of ice directly against my right eyebrow, and it starts to hurt.

Maddox is definitely mad at me. What if he decides he never wants to talk to me again? I shift, the ice clinking, and continue to hold my breath. I start to hear my heartbeat in my ears, but then I think I hear something on the stairs.

Holy freak, it’s him coming down to say he’s moving out.

No. Stop thinking about Maddox. I try to push my head deeper in the water, some of it spilling over the sides and splashing up on my hairline.

Do better. Be better. For him. The beat of the words mixes with the beat of my heart until it’s racing, and finally, I yank my head out of the water, sucking in a gasp of air. It feels exhilarating to breathe again, and I shake the water out of my eyes, turning to see Maddox leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“Fudge!” I stagger back a step, heart racing all over again. He’s right here. Was he watching me? For how long?

Oh fudge, he saw me sticking my head in a bowl of water like a crazy person.

I give him a smile that feels forced and clear my throat.

Maddox just watches me with unreadable eyes. Then, he crosses his arms tighter. “I’d like to ask for an advance.”

I stare at him, forgetting to breathe for a second. “Of course.” My answer is immediate, before my brain can catch up. An advance? Sure. Whatever he wants. I’d get on my knees and crawl for him if he wanted. Give him the information for my account. My social security number, if we wanted. We could commit fraud together! It would be a great bonding activity.

But then Maddox starts talking, “I can cook, clean, watch Princess, and I will make up for it.”

“Sure,” I say. I don’t need him to do any of that, although I believe him. But I know he needs it to make him feel better. “How much do you need?”

There’s a flutter in Maddox’s expression, but he covers it up quickly and tells me an amount.

I’m honestly surprised at how low it is. I shrug. “Of course, I’ll send that over.”