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Now, what do I do? He’s onto me like a dog sniffing the trail, but now I need Charlie more than ever. I need her to get through the rest of my manuscript.
Or I succumb to the white-laced acid.
There is no alternative.
Charlie is my only way to survive.
The night is filled with raging continual nightmares. I’ve tossed and turned, trapped inside my rampant imagination. I’m always just a moment’s reach from pulling Chelsea’s body out of the wreckage, her screams echoing through the night.
The fire blazing in front of my eyes is wild, out of control, and incinerating everything in its path.
I’m paralyzed with terror.
Chelsea!
I scream, but my voice can’t be heard. My cries are silent pleas, and with force, I try, but it’s as if my vocal cords don’t exist.
A loud noise awakens me, my body is drenched in a cold sweat as I sit up, unable to breathe from the horror of the nightmare returning.
Burying my face into my hands, I try to erase the memories, bringing myself back to reality. With the sheets twisted around my limbs, I untangle myself willing the freedom to move around. My heart continues to beat erratically, and with exhaustion playing into the mix of emotions, I fall back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Everything about me is overly complicated. The voices need to stop—the ones continually taunting me. I battle with my good angel. We have a love-hate relationship but mostly hate. It constantly whispers in my ear telling me to fucking fix my life with reminders that once upon a time I had the world at my feet.
That was until the world decided to crush me.
I must try again to get back on track. I’m not stupid, my intelligence gives me opportunities others would kill for, and then to some. I apparently have the ‘entire package,’ the perfect mating partner, at least, on the outside. On the inside, I’m a train wreck on fucking crack.
I’m not going to take Lex’s warning lightly. If Charlie were mine, I’d do the exact same thing. Maybe that’s why I battle with this decision so much. Yeah, I know he wants the best for her, but who fucking said he’s best? Then again, am I? What can I possibly offer her now?
It’s too much thought for four in the morning, and the only clear decision I can make is that I need to get through the next eight weeks without seeing Charlie and definitely no coke.
***
I start out on a roll with a fresh attitude, the writing flowing perfectly. Every night I sit in my apartment and pour my words onto the screen. It’s a different type of high—a positive high. I even position my Harvard pictures near my desk, reminding me of how hard I have worked to get to this point in my life.
Life’s coming together.
I can win this battle.
I was doing well until all hell broke loose in my head. Tristan is annoying the fuck out of me, and I need my space. Okay, to be fair, he isn’t around as much. Eric’s taking this tour guide thing to a whole new level. I’ve even seen a physical change in the kid. I had to brin
g it up fearing he was taking steroids.
“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but since when did you get so big?”
“If you weren’t my uncle, I’d be extremely paranoid right now.” He continues to rapidly press the buttons on his control while whatever war game he’s currently playing is occupying his attention.
And that’s another thing—the fucking PlayStation.
I only have one television in my apartment, and forgive me for wanting to watch the news to catch up on what’s happening in the world. I’m this close to throwing it out the window and claiming the apartment was burglarized.
“Just want to make sure you’re not mixing with the wrong crowd.” Who the fuck am I to talk about wrong crowds?
“I’ve been hanging out with some bangin’ babes. If you mean wrong as in double-D hunnies, well…”
I raise my brow. “Eric hooked you up with double-D hunnies?
He pauses his game and turns to face me. “I don’t always hang out with Eric. I have a life outside of him. Besides, he prefers men.”
