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“Did you know Peter had a psychiatric disorder?” he asked casually.
I swallowed. “Not until r… recently.”
Wrench had found it in his search, but my brain just couldn’t remember, the haze still too thick.
Wrench.
Jesus, where was Wrench?
He’d be out looking for me, the club would be.
And Eric, they knew I was with him. They’d know.
Please let them know, let them find me.
“Narcissistic Personality Disorder,” he said slowly. The words rang a bell in my head. “Basically, he thought he was the best, the smartest, the richest. He thought that no one would compare to how amazing he was.” His words were harsh, his sarcastic tone much like he was talking about a child who had told the whole classroom with full confidence that they were Superman.
“Peter helped to discover the drug ‘Manic,’ but it was me who came up with the idea of who to sell it to. What to use it for to really make money,” he explained as he paced across the room to where there was a small bottle of liquor. He filled up his glass and took another sip, licking his lips before he spoke again. “At first he wasn’t on board, he didn’t want to share you with anyone, but once he started to see just how much power it gave him… he was right there with me. We used you like a… demonstration, I guess. Bringing in these criminals, letting them see how the drug worked… how you reacted.”
I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to fight back the memories, knowing that if they came now that it would be hopeless. They would consume me. It was hard, the withdrawal making my emotions heightened, dragging me down that dreary path that I was so afraid of.
“Unfortunately for him, he fell more in love with you, and soon he was fighting to protect you,” Eric scoffed as though the idea was pathetic. “It drew his focus away from the plan, and he started to realize that instead of helping you, it was actually hurting you. He left, thinking that he was doing what was right for you, and came to help me build our market in New York.”
The puzzle pieces were fitting together, slipping into place.
“But the moment he got back, and you freaked out, pleading for him to take the pain away…” he said it with laughter in his voice, he obviously found my struggle entertaining, hilarious almost, “… he did the only thing he knew would help. He gave you the drugs. But I knew, the minute you got back inside his head he would try to back out again.”
“I got pregnant,” I whispered my thoughts out loud.
Eric laughed loudly, the noise hurting my head, making the humming louder. “I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried. I’d gone around there to be the good guy and tell you to run, but you were already out the damn door, I just had to give you a little push.”
I heaved, dry retching into the can that was already beginning to make the room smell.
Eric laughed again, obviously enjoying the pain I was in, knowing exactly how my body would be reacting. My muscles ached, and my head swam as I fought to right myself again. I’d been through this before, and I knew the next few hours weren’t going to be pretty.
“Peter had been a helpful little monkey for the past six years, producing new drugs, helping me test them, but I knew the moment you got back in town that he would fight back. He’d see you again and that would be it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That’s exactly what happened. So I solved the problem before he could grow a conscience and fill you in.”
I heard the crinkle of a plastic bag, and my spine went dead straight. I forced myself not to look at him. I was strong, I wouldn’t do what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to fucking beg for more, to get on my knees so he could look down on me as I pleaded with him to make the pain go away. My eyes focused out the window and I refused to look at him while the sun was setting over the vast cityscape. One that I wished I could figure out the name of.
Wrench would come for me.
He would find me, I knew he would.
A thought came to my head, so I voiced it. “The club. W… what do they have to do with this?”
“Mmm,” he hummed in annoyance. “The club. We have buyers in Alabama… big ones… right here in the city.”
That statement warmed me inside. We were still in Alabama, at least that was one thing.
“The brothers have been a pain in my ass for years. First, I just enjoyed putting those smug bastards away. They think they’re kings in these parts. Then when I wanted to introduce ‘Manic,’ the buyers were hesitant, knowing that if the club got a whiff of what was going on, that there would be war. I needed the club gone.”
I rocked my body back and forth, trying to ease some of the symptoms I was feeling. “S… sounds like they’re pussies.”
Eric chuckled darkly. “Funny you say that. Pussy was just the word I was thinking of. Not with regards to them, though, but you.”
The chill in my body climbed higher, sweat beaded at my hairline and dripped down my face. I heard what he was saying. I remembered exactly who he was selling these pills to.
Traffickers.
