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* * *
A muffledalarm pulses in the background.
I lift my head and look around, faint light filtering through the shades. A groan crawls up my throat, the migraine killing me.
What day is today?
Little by little, reality fights its way back into my head. It’s Saturday.
Good.
Eyes closed, I sink back into the pillow, my head heavy as a shovel, my mouth dry like a heap of sand. I could easily drift off to sleep if it weren't for the headache hammering my head.
The sound of running water travels from the shower. I slide my eyes open again, prop myself on my elbows, and listen.
I shift my body, the silky sheet gliding off my chest.
The bed is empty on my side. More reality pours in, coming with a lot of flashbacks.
The bathroom.
Who is in the shower?
Abel?
Groaning, I roll off the bed and shuffle to the second bathroom. Running a shaky hand through my hair, I glance in the mirror.
I have to stop doing this. It makes me feel like crap. Mumbling a curse, I slip into the shower and let the water roll over me.
Mmm. That feels nice. The more water flows over me, the more clarity I get.
That’s the problem with life’s highs.
They make you forget for a moment, but there’s a price to pay.
It’s the morning after or the minute after.
It's the moment you get weaned off that thing.
It’s pain coming back to you ten times stronger.
And it’s the ugly truth. The crushing emptiness inside.
Is it worth it? I begin to wonder.
“Damn you, Jaden...” I murmur to myself, the words popping out of nowhere.
I turn the water off and wrap my chest in a towel. Barefoot, I saunter back into the bedroom. Shoulders propped against the headboard, covered from the waist down, Abel raises his eyes from his phone.
“Hey, baby,” he says.
We briefly lock eyes before I shift my gaze away.
“You okay?” he asks.
I swing my eyes back to him.
Lifting an eyebrow, he shoots me a questioning look, hard, long muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin as he changes his position.
