Page 165 of Relapse

A man who worked at the club stood there, shielding his eyes and cursing under his breath. “Why do people always come back here to fool around?”

“We were just leaving,” I suggested aloud, pushing past the employee. At least someone had finally opened the door so I could get the hell out of here. Silas followed silently behind me.

“Uh huh, sure you were—” The man paused as we walked through the open door. “Noah Hansen?”

I stiffened. What now?

“A-Are you Noah Hansen?” he asked nervously.

“Who’s asking?” I turned back over my shoulder, my voice coming out like a bark. I just wanted out of here.

“Don’t you remember me?” The guy laughed, and something about it made my stomach turn. “We met here about five months ago.”

I analyzed his face, waiting for any flash of recognition. There was nothing. Just another blank space in a long line of blank spaces. He was just another drug induced escapade that I couldn’t bring myself to care about. “No, I don’t remember.”

He shrugged, shutting the door behind us. “I get it if you don't want to say anything in front of your boyfriend.”

Silas’s death glare had kicked in.

“Maybe I’m mistaken…” The guy said quickly, noticing Silas’s look. He rubbed the back of his head.

“You are. And I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said with a hard stare.

Silas visibly tensed beside me.

“Oh, well then you are the Noah I’m thinking of.” The guy chuckled, a newfound layer of cruelty and sarcasm hiding just beneath his words.

Silas’s eyes darted to me momentarily, questioning, and I wanted to disappear.

What the fuck was this guy’s problem with me? What had I done that was so bad? The shame I felt from being unable to remember was yet another reminder of how shitty I must have been while under the influence all of the time.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I could feel myself growing more uneasy by the second.

The man gave me an ugly, twisted sneer. “You’re the same drunken slut who dragged me back here last time. Literally, same room. At least whores get paid for what you do for free.” He chuckled to himself, and I watched his eyes rake over me, then back to Silas. “I mean, fuck—look at you. You’re disgusting.”

It didn’t even sting. Not really. I’d kind of felt it coming. There would be many more blow ups like this waiting for me. I knew I deserved them.

He was right, anyway. I never remembered the names or faces of people I had casual, drunken, drugged-up sex with. It had been so... normal. At the time.

Judging by the look on Silas’s face, he found the comment a lot less acceptable than I did. He reared back, punching the guy square in the face.

I jumped backward, shock ricocheting through me as the man tumbled to his knees from the force of the blow. My eyes shot to Silas, my mouth hanging open.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, dumbstruck.

The man moaned in pain on the floor, but Silas’s eyes were locked on me. He was enraged. His gaze made me want to curl up into a ball and be anywhere but in his presence. Mixed in with that anger was a look of disappointment—the same look a parent gave their kid before a lecture.

Whatever confidence I’d been pretending to have shrunk back down to a speck of dust.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t,” Silas spat. “And you deserve better.”

He turned his back on the scene and marched away, leaving me standing there alone. Questions flooded my brain, but one stood out in particular.

What now?

Chapter forty-one

Me and the Devil