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I hate smoking. I might be more than willing to get fucked up on every other kind of drug, but smoking is different. It doesn’t take me away from anything. It doesn’t dull my pain.
But right now, while I force myself away from the lure of vodka, it’s going to have to do.
I need to do something. My fingers need to be busy. I need to feel that burn.
Finding a small park, I fall down onto the cold, damp grass and lie back. The smoke plumes above me as I chain smoke cigarette after cigarette.
They do nothing. Abso-fucking-lutley nothing.
My body craves more. But I can’t.
I can’t give into the darkness.
I need to prove that I can fight it. That I can be a decent human being.
The last thing Hadley needs tonight is for me to turn back up to our room strung out on something because I can’t deal with the consequences of what I did to her.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the image of her with blood running down her chest slams into me.
I cut her. I fucking carved into her flawless skin like a selfish motherfucker in my need to own her.
No girl should have to deal with that level of fucked-up.
Especially not when she’s… fuck… pregnant.
I sit up, my chest heaving as realization washes through me.
What if I hurt…
I drop my head into my hands.
I’m so lost. So fucking lost. I have no idea which way is up or what I can even attempt to do to fix it. Can it even be fixed?
Blowing out a breath, I dig into my pocket for my cell.
My thumb hovers over Hadley’s number. My need to know that she’s okay almost has me attempting to call her, but I know it’s pointless. She wouldn’t pick up even if there was a problem.
It makes me question why I did as she said and walked out. I should have waited, proved to her that I was in this for good, that I was sorry I lost control.
Lowering my thumb, I hit call to someone else who might be able to talk some sense into me.
“Bro, how’s it going? Thought you’d been too deep in Hadley to come up for air, let alone call me.”
“Shut up, Con.”
“Shit, what’s wrong?”
I blow out another breath as I try to figure out what the hell to say. I can hardly tell him the truth. He’ll have me fucking committed if I admit to carving my girlfriend up while I fucked her. A shudder runs up my spine at the thought.
“I fucked up.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re calling me for girl advice?”
“I… I don’t know why I’m calling you. I just need… fuck, I don’t even know what I need.”
“Okay, okay. How bad are we talking? Like, she caught you checking out another girl's ass, or you had your tongue down another girl's throat, bad?”
“If that’s the scale then she caught me with my cock in her ass.”
