Page 2 of Fervor

CHAPTER2

On day seven of this fuckery I rolled off my couch with a groan. There were three, maybe four, no definitely four little demon fucks playing construction with my head; I could pinpoint each individual location, one for each temple, one for the frontal lobe, and the last dead center on the nape of my neck. As if my existence wasn’t FUBAR enough, now I have to deal with this shit. One thing I've learned in the past week is that all those asswads who claimed alcohol made everything go away didn't know fuck-all about the human psyche. I went to bed knowing what the fuck was up and woke up the same, only with the added bonus of my mouth tasting and smelling like horse shit, my body stinking like a distillery, limbs hurting like an old bitch, bowels on fire, and my fucking heart ripped to fuck.

I opened my bloodshot eyes and looked around, lost. No one knew where I was, except maybe my mom and pops, my siblings might have a pretty good guess, but no one knew for sure. The cabin had been in my family for generations, and after I'd done everything to destroy the million-dollar home, I shared with that bitch I'd headed here without really knowing where I was heading. Hidden away in the woods, miles away from the nearest town, it was just what I needed right now. Thank goodness I'd had the presence of mind to stock shit up on the way here, not that I'd had much more than my man Jack in the last few days, but at least I didn't have to leave for at least a month if I didn't want to. Of course, I had obligations, two premiers, some promo shit, and fuck all, but right now, I could give a fuck.

I felt that niggling anticipation that has been my constant companion for the past few days creeping up on me again. The one that made me boot up my Mac and Google my life. This time around, I fought it off and headed for the shower. I made the water as hot and then as cold as I could, not even giving my boy a cursory tug. What kind of fucked up shit could prevent a man from pulling one-off in the mornings? Even when I was getting pussy on the regular, I could still rub one out. This shit had to stop, but I knew the only way it would end was if I knocked the shit out of that bitch, but if I did that, for sure, the cops would be on my ass; how come no one was arresting her sorry ass for the shit she did to me? This shit was murder. I felt the telltale betrayal of tears as they coursed down my cheeks, as thoughts of her flooded my mind. I loved her so damn much; I probably hadn't even realized how much until this shit happened. She was my fucking world, and now that shit was rocked off its axis. What to do, what to do, what to do? One thing was for certain, as I toweled off and threw on a pair of sweats, no more Jack, I had to get my shit together; it was time to take the power back. This was me, Gage fucking Maddox, master of my motherfucking universe. I run this bitch.