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I shoot up from my chair, pulling on the hem of the shirt. Then realizing my overreaction, I sit back down.
“Oh.” I let out a small awkward laugh and I immediately want to fade into the ether at the sound. “I did not know.”
Bastian reaches for the vodka bottle and pours himself another drink, giving me a bored shrug. “Now you do.” He takes a slow sip, eyeing me intently. “Suits you.”
Warmth spills in over my chest and I convince myself that it must be the vodka as I take another sip, suppressing a cough when it burns my throat once again.
We fall into what can almost be described as companionable silence, the starry night sky twinkling over us. The stars are so much brighter here than in Noxport.
It reminds me of home.
The thought feels harmless, but it is equally as jarring.
Because I meant the commune.
That place is not home… I am not sure it ever was.
And I am not so sure Noxport feels like home either.
7
Lucy’s laying sideways, fully clothed, on her unmade bed. Watching her from the doorway, I can hear her soft slumbering breaths while I chew on my inner cheek, lost in thought. I could tell that one pour of vodka would do her in. She’s out like a light.
I turn back into my own room, pacing across the faded gray carpet.
I shouldn’t leave her alone. But the thought of just lying here wide awake for hours—most likely till dawn—tightens my throat. The urge to pull out all my hair is starting to sound really good right about now. I could work, which is what I do most of the time when the insomnia takes hold and doesn’t let up.
Not now. I’m not sure what makes tonight different. Or if it has anything to do with the girl sleeping in the next room. I just know that I need to get out of here. I just need some air.
First, I need to know that Lucy will be safe here. I already have her phone tracked but she barely uses the damn thing. I contemplate quickly installing a surveillance camera in her room—but that’s more Connor’s thing. This stir-crazy feeling isn’t letting up, only growing worse with my lack of decision.
Fuck it.
It’ll just be a couple of hours, she’ll be fine for tonight. I make sure her front door is triple locked before heading out and locking mine from the outside. Now that it’s night, there’s a chill to the air, but I welcome it. It manages to subdue the craving. Just a little. Like a dull knife instead of a sharpened tip. But right now, it refuses to leave.
Tonight the dark angel of temptation has taken up residence on my right shoulder, trying to seduce me with wistful ballads filled with stories of irresistible escape. I ignore it.
Not tonight.
Or the next.
Or the next.
I look up to the inky sky as I walk up the street. I take a large inhale, still chewing on my inner cheek, my hand stuffed into my jeans pockets. I spot Saturn right away, it shines brighter than the stars surrounding it. All planets do. The promise of a universe so much bigger than me is the only thing keeping me half-sane right now. How could my issues—whatever they fucking are—matter when I’m so insignificant compared to everything else. A lone grain in the sand. Somehow, it brings comfort, no matter how existential it is. And maybe a little nihilistic too.
Finally, I spot a blinking neon sign at the corner. Opening the nondescript door, I walk into what will most likely be a hole-in-a-wall dive bar.
It is.
The bar is busier than expected for a—actually, I don’t even know what day of the week it is. I don’t blame them. There doesn’t seem to be a lot to do around here but to drown your boredom into a pint or five.
I do a quick sweep of the place. Bar to my right. Pool table to the far left. Brown decor. And a few wooden tables in desperate need of a wipe peppered about. I walk up to the corner of the bar and sit on a barstool, signaling the bartender. Long brown plaited hair, pink painted lips. She saunters up with a twinkle in her eyes and tits up to her neck.
“Pilsner,” I order before she even speaks. I pull out my wallet and hand her two crisp hundred-dollar bills. “And this is for you to leave me the fuck alone. Just keep my pint full.”
She drops her smile and pops a hip, snatching the money out of my hand. “You got it.”
An hour later, I’m on my third drink and my usual uncontrollable thoughts have slowed into a tolerable hum. Doesn’t take long before my mind slowly meanders to the leather-bound notebook and its contents.
