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He actually fucking smirked at me.
"Go home, princess." Catching ahold of the cigarette that was balancing between his lips, Shane stubbed it out with his fingers and placed the long butt behind his ear. "There's nothing left here for you."
Like hell there wasn’t.
He moved to shut the door in my face, but I stuck my foot in the doorway to block him.
"You have something that belongs to me,” I hissed, chest heaving now. “And I'm not going anywhere until I get him back, you jumped-up, fucking scumbag!"
“Fiery little ride aren’t ya?” he mused, taking my measure. “I can see the appeal. No wonder Lynchy lets you bust his balls. You must be a firecracker in the bedroom.”
“Listen, prick, you can send my boyfriend out here, or I can come in and get him.” Narrowing my eyes, I pushed at the door as hard as I could, forcing him to take several steps into his hallway. "Either way, I'm not leaving without him."
Shane’s hand shot out faster than I anticipated, fingers wrapping around my throat. "What did you say to me?"
“Let…go…of…my…throat…and…I’ll…say…it…again…asshole,” I choked out, clawing my nails into his beefy hand.
"Have you any idea who you're talking to?" he mused, eyes dancing with a mixture of malice and heat. ”Hmm?” He squeezed, not tight enough to choke me – more like scare me.
Unwilling to back down, I glared right back at him, daring him with my eyes to do whatever he had to do because I wasn't leaving.
After a tense stare down, a laugh tore from his throat and he released me.
"You're a crazy bitch," he chuckled, swinging the door inwards and gesturing for me to come inside. "By all means, be my guest."
“Joey?” Furious, I barged past him and stalked down the dilapidated hallway, stepping over empty beer cans and cigarette butts, throwing doors open as I went, feeling more frantic with every step I took. “Joey?”
“He can’t hear you, princess,” Shane chuckled from behind me. “He’s not here right now.”
“Fuck you,” I seethed, rushing in and out of every room downstairs before bolting up the staircase and starting the same process up there.
On the last door, when I'd given up hope, I stumbled upon my worst nightmare.
There was a stained mattress on the floor.
Alongside the mattress was a metal spoon with some dark, syrupy looking stains, a lighter, and a tiny plastic bag with some brownish powder inside.
Strewn on top of the filthy mattress was my boyfriend, with his eyes rolling back in his head, and a needle dangling from the crook of his arm.
My heart, the same heart I didn’t think could be broken any more than it already had, cracked into a bazillion more pieces.
“Joe.” My hand sprang up to cover my mouth, as I battled with the image my mind was assuring me wasn’t a nightmare, but reality. “Joey!”
Nothing.
"We were supposed to be spending the day together," I cried, stumbling towards him. The smell of his sorrow was all around me and I honestly felt like I was going to die of a broken heart as I felt myself hemorrhage from the inside.
Kicking the contraband away from his body, like it would somehow make everything better, I knelt down beside him and undid the tie that was cutting off the circulation in his arm. “Joe, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Sniffling back a sob, I gingerly reached out and pulled the syringe out of his arm before throwing it at the other side of the room. “Joe?”
Soft groaning was the only response I got.
"Get up," I begged, pulling on his shoulders in my pathetic attempt to get him up.
“Molloy.”
