Page 90 of The Unravelings

I want to burn this city to the goddamn ground for what it did to me. But then again, I need to get to the bottom of everything. JJ insists they didn’t do it.

But I’m so confused by everything. My gut says he’s a liar, because everyone in this town has been born and bred to be a liar.

You can’t fake the look in his eyes, though. The sincerity when he proclaims his innocence.

My heart is tugging in two completely different directions. I’m unraveling at the seams, being torn apart from the inside out, and I don’t know how to stop this.

Will I ever?

Maybe this was needed. Maybe this will make me buck up and face my demons head-on, while taking them down for what they did. I need to investigate further, but first, I have to get out of this bed and take care of my hangover like a responsible adult. Because that’s what I am, right? An adult with a big girl job. An agency that counts on me to solve the cases they’ve put in front of me. People who need me to potentially save their lives and figure out who is stealing organs for their own gain.

I groan again when I sit up, wishing all adult responsibilities weren’t a thing, and throw my legs over the side of the bed.

“There, I’m sitting up,” I mumble to myself, pinching the bridge of my nose. Music leaks from beyond my door, barely thumping. “Too early for this shit,” I grumble, reaching for my phone and checking the time without unlocking it.

9:00 a.m.—wonderful.

What the hell time did I get home last night?

“These are for you!” Simon shouts over the music, carrying three glasses sloshing with a mysterious pink liquid I’ve never laid eyes on before.

I blink several times when he pushes the red cup into my hands with a grin. “Err… What is it?” I ask, sniffing the concoction. “Holy shit, Si.” It smells like kerosene in a damn glass with a hint of lemonade. It could burn my hair right off, and it burns going down my throat. I cough several times. “Fuck,” I cough more, shaking my head. “What did you put in this?”

“It’s a new concoction!” Simon grins, taking a long gulp of his drink without flinching. “Isn’t it delicious? It has like five different types of booze in it. You love it, right?”

“Yup!” I say, taking another drink and holding back the tingle in my throat. That time around, it doesn’t make me cough, so I drink more.

And after that? I don’t remember a goddamn thing. I’d say he slipped something into my drink, but I trust Simon. He’s kept my identity a secret without judging me or telling others.

So it had to be the alcohol he gave me.

On that note, though, that’s the last time I trust Simon and new concoctions. That pink drink from hell made me black out into oblivion. Who the hell knows what I did last night or who I talked to? That’s the part that scares me the most. Did I slip up? I try not to drink on the job, so I keep my wits about me. What if I didn’t, though? What if I talked to someone I shouldn’t have?

Ugh.

I’m never drinking again. That’s a promise. I can’t continue to spiral down this alcohol-fueled, self-destructive hole I keep digging myself. I’m not my father. However, my demons seem to reflect his. He drank every second of every day, harming us in the process. And what am I doing? I’m repeating his mistakes.

Except the only person I’m harming is myself.

I need to focus on what’s important here. Maybe I do have a stick up my ass and need to loosen up, but I also need to focus on all the things happening around this town. And there’s a lot of fuckery happening around here. More than I ever remember from when I was a kid.

The bodies that are continuing to pile up with organs missing. Yesterday, another woman showed up, naked with organs removed. It seems they’re ramping up whatever operation they’ve got going on.

Next on my list of shit to do is the Franco Syndicate and its nosy heirs. More specifically, the newest thorn in my side—JJ and his blackmail. Somehow, I’ll get out of it. Or maybe I’ll do what Jonathan says and lean into the blackmail more, trying to suss him out. Now, to convince myself that I’ll be okay and that they won’t hurt me again. That’s another story.

Fuck. Even the group project with Wilder and Mack.

That’s a disaster waiting to happen. Those two together in a small study room? They’re going to tear each other’s faces off, and I’ll be in the middle of it trying to stop them.

God. My headache intensifies in the back of my skull. The more I think, the worse it gets, pounding away like a damn drummer inside my brain. I don’t know who to blame. My stress? My hangover? Simon? A combination of the three?

We’ll go with that.

My plate is way too damn full. This was supposed to be simple. Watch Franco and his idiots. Infiltrate their gang without getting caught.

Too bad I got caught. If only I weren’t here and someone was in my place. Someone who doesn’t have my face and history.

This town is a disease, dragging me further down into the bullshit.