by Shay Savage
It was still too much.
She wasn’t in there though the light above the sink was still on. Tria was kind of nuts about turning off all the lights before going to bed, which just made me feel like a bigger shit. I had obviously upset her so much she wasn’t even keeping her normal routines.
I glanced toward the bathroom, but the door was open and no one was inside. The bedroom door was slightly closed, so I took a deep breath to prepare myself and then went inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I wondered if I would get lucky enough to have her sleeping soundly. That way I could at least put this shit off until morning.
I was really fucking tired.
Listening closely, I tried to hear how steady her breathing was, but I heard nothing.
I moved cautiously around to her side of the bed, reached my hand out, and felt nothing but cold sheets. I grabbed for the light on the nightstand and flicked it on.
She wasn’t there.
Adrenalin pumped into my system as I reached down and pulled at the bottom dresser drawer—the one I had cleaned out for Tria’s things the first day she moved in, the one that then stood empty until we came back from Beals and Tria finally unpacked. It was the day she decided she was going to stay with me long-term and not continually think I was going to send her away.
The drawer that was empty now.
“No,” I whispered.
I raced around the room, searching for something of hers, but there was nothing. Her clothes were gone. Even the little basket where she kept her dirty laundry was gone. I ran out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, but there was no bright green toothbrush next to my red one in the cup.
In the kitchen, there were only the few dishes I had before she moved in with me. The bottle of apple juice she always had in the fridge was gone, and the little tan mug with the moose on it was no longer sitting to the left of my plain, black coffee cup.
I stood at the center point of the apartment where I could see into the kitchen and living room easily but also had a view of the bathroom and bedroom doors. I looked quickly at each area of the living space I had shared with Tria, and then my gaze landed on the little blue bookshelf in the corner of the room, which was completely empty.
My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees.
She was gone.
I was never one to completely break down, but I couldn’t stop the tears.
Chapter 18—Inject the Poison
I turned the apartment upside down trying to find something—anything—she had left behind that she might have to come back to get. Then I spent about five minutes just smashing shit in the kitchen. After that, I took a shower in the hope that it was going to calm me down, but I was only reminded of how often I used to jerk off in the shower, and how I didn’t have to anymore.
Except that I did, because she was gone.
Punching the tiles of the shower really, really hurt. I tried to focus on the pain in my knuckles, and even hit the tile a couple more times until one of my hands started bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. I had the feeling I could have thrown myself out the window, broken every bone in my body, and then been run over by a truck, and it still wouldn’t be enough to make me stop thinking.
Soft, brown hair that always ended up tickling my nose in the night.
The way her hips moved back and forth when she was cooking.
The scent of her skin after I fucked her.
I turned most of the furniture upside down or threw it against the wall. With a scream, I yanked the top two drawers out of the dresser and flung them to either side of me, dumping the contents all over the floor. I smashed the television, ripped the cushions off the couch, and grabbed the bookshelf.
I was about to smash it to pieces, but I just couldn’t.
I dropped down to the floor in the middle of the living room and stared at carpet fibers for God knows how long as I tried to just force the shit out of my head. I was good at that, and it should have worked, but it didn’t. I stared at the smashed television screen, but I ended up with my head full of movies and TV shows Tria and I had watched together.
My jacket was on the floor within reach, so I grabbed it and pulled out a pack of smokes. I smoked half the pack sitting there, but I just ended up in a coughing fit and remembered how Tria came to the bar just to bring me my cigarettes.
She doesn’t even like that I smoke.
I leaned my back against the couch and lit another cigarette, but then I forgot I was holding it and burned the shit out of my leg. Focusing on that kind of helped a little, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed something that was going to take all the painful memories away.
With shaking hands, I stood up, slowly pulled my jacket around my shoulders, and walked out. I didn’t even bother to lock the door as I left, just headed down the hallway and out into the street. I made my way across the pavement and to the alley heading south.
My heart pounded in my chest, and my throat tightened and ached. I tried not to think about where I was going or what I was going to do. I had given my word I wasn’t going to do this again, and I was about to violate that promise.
Yolanda would have killed me if given the chance.
The smell was exactly how I remembered it. Sweat, urine, unwashed bodies—it was like a VW van in the middle of Woodstock if Woodstock was held in a nasty old swamp instead of out on a farm. Max was sitting on a couch at the far side of the room with some strung out chick hovering around him, begging for a slam and offering to blow him for free if he just gave her a little. I approached him slowly as she looked up at me with dead eyes.
“Teague!” Max cried out as I came near. “How ya doin’, bud? Haven’t seen you in forever! Damn, you look like you’ve been hitting the gym! I thought you were all cleaned up or some such shit now. You got a job at a bar or something, Lee?”
Max had a tendency to ask a lot of stupid questions, none of which he actually expected to have answered.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to cringe at the use of the nickname, which had never been a favorite of mine. “What’s been shakin’, bro? I need a bit.”
“You know I’m your man,” Max said with a grin. “Anytime, anywhere! You name it, I got it. Weed, blow, meth—what you want, bud?”
“Just some H, bro,” I told him. I didn’t know why he was bothering to ask—I never touched the other shit. I hadn’t even smoked weed more than a handful of times. It was always about the smack. I just didn’t see any point in going halfway on such shit.
Max shoved the girl off his lap and turned to the side. He opened up one of those boxes that was meant to hold fishing lures and started rummaging around in it. There were all kinds of baggies and needles inside. He had everything I needed.
Tyrannosaurus’s Tackle Box, I thought to myself.
My hand clenched at my side involuntarily, and I had to swallow a lump in my throat.
The chick with the dead eyes watched me as I pointed out everything I needed, and Max named a price. I swallowed, handed him most of the rent money, and walked away with a fresh needle and a rock of brown heroin. I shoved them deep into my jacket pocket as I walked slowly back down the street. I passed other junkies, hookers, pimps, and dirty cops without giving them a second glance as I made my way back to my apartment.
My apartment.
Not ours.
Not even the apartment anymore.
Just mine.
Inside, I went straight for my dresser. I pulled out the long-unopened box stowed away in the back behind the jeans and opened it. I pulled out the slender rubber tube and a charred spoon. Dropping the box on the floor, I headed to the kitchen and laid everything out on the table. Images of mashed potatoes and casseroles and shit peppered the back of my head as I got set up, reminding myself over and over again why I had to do this. I couldn’t survive this way. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t about to try to fool myself into thinking that I could.
It was amazing how second nature it was as I grabbed everything I neede
d. I filled a small bowl with warm water and grabbed one of the porn mags that had been hiding, forgotten, under the couch since last summer. I tore out one of the pages from the middle and laid it flat on the table. I ripped the plastic off the needle and put it off to the side. Max had the good stuff—the easy stuff—so once it was crushed into powder on top of the magazine paper, I only needed to mix it with a little water in the cap of my rig to get it to dissolve. It was only a couple of minutes before I had the needle prepared.
“Still a fucking pro,” I muttered to myself.
I sat still for a moment, then shook my head and wrapped my arm with a bit of tubing Max had given me. My veins were easily accessible now, though I remembered a time when they had collapsed and I had to shoot up through my leg. I tapped the inner part of my arm a couple of times, but that was more from habit than necessity.
Habit. That was kind of funny.
I clenched my fist twice as I prepared both my arm and my mind. There was a voice screaming in the back of my head that I hadn’t done it yet. As long as I hadn’t shoved the rig into my arm and pushed the plunger, I hadn’t done it yet.
I paused, bit down on my lip, and let thoughts of Tria rush over me.
Memories came in waves without any kind of order to them. I remembered the first day she moved in and what a fucking mess the place was. I thought about how she helped Krazy Katie attach cigarette packs to her wall and how we all went grocery shopping together. I remembered how Tria looked when she dug around in that huge fucking purse trying to find her lip gloss.
A weird sound came out of my throat.
“Can’t do this,” I whispered.
There was sweat on my forehead and the back of my neck as I took a deep breath and positioned the point of the needle on top of the vein. My muscles tensed, my mind screamed, and the memory of Tria’s scent as I held her in bed sent me over the edge. All I had to do was push it in and inject it.
So easy.
As long as I didn’t do it, I was still clean.
But it was so, so easy to do it. Once it was done, I wouldn’t feel like this anymore.
I wouldn’t feel anything.
There was a slight popping sound as I broke through the skin, then another as I broke through the vein. The edge of my thumb tapped the plunger back, and bright red filled the end of the tube. With the verification that I had hit the vein properly, I slowly pushed the plunger down. I let out the breath I had been holding as I ripped off the tubing and slid the needle out of my skin. There was a little blood but not much.
Apparently I hadn’t lost my touch.
Submerging the end of the needle into the bowl of water, I pulled back on the syringe to clean it out. By the time I had set everything down on the table again, the flood hit me.
Heavy warmth spread through my limbs, and I let myself slide off the chair and walk slowly over to the couch because the bed was just a little too far away. My skin tingled slightly, and I felt my mouth turn up into a smile. I wasn’t even sure why I had been feeling like shit just a few minutes ago. Now everything was perfectly fine again.
The world that was previously pulling me down now pulled me into a cozy embrace of soft light and perfect warmth. I wasn’t too hot or too cold, and I had a vague recollection of my mother calling me to wake up and get ready for school. I had been wrapped tightly in the blankets of my bed with sleep still covering my brain, far too comfortable and sleepy to listen to her.
I had been late to school, but it didn’t matter.
School.
I heard myself laugh.
With my eyes closed, I leaned back against the couch cushions and just let myself feel. It was a sublime, dreamlike set of images in my head—clouds and trees and the singing of birds even though none of that was really there.
I knew it wasn’t.
I wasn’t even really seeing it in my mind.
It just felt like I was…or I could have been…
It was perfection.
For now.
I didn’t think I was ever one to give up, but apparently I was.
~End Part 2~
Author’s notes
Oh, Liam…what are you doing?
Hang in there—you know this isn’t the end just yet! Caged: Book 3—Released will be available August 25, 2015!
Preorder Caged: Book 3—Released on Amazon.
Excerpt from Caged: Book 3—Released
Shivering in the doorway, I ducked my head between my knees and wrapped my arms around my shoulders. I tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my head that kept telling me how to make it all go away—all the hurt, all the pain—just for a little while.
She said she wanted me to be clean.
She said for the sake of the baby. There isn’t a baby yet. Just one fix. You can get clean again.
“She said…she said…” My voice broke, and tears mingled with the flow of rain over my head.
I don’t want to be like this…I don’t…I don’t…
The light rain increased, and heavy clouds blocked out the sun almost entirely. There was a bit of shelter where I was sitting next to the building, but I was going to be soaked before too long. Not that it mattered—nothing else mattered except getting Tria back.
I had to find a way.
I had to do something.
What? What could I do?
I glanced up the street where I knew I could score all the dope I wanted for a little indignity. My throat bobbed as I swallowed, and I ran the back of my hand over my face to wipe away the rain. I might not have any money, but there was always a way if you were willing.
Just one needle.
One time.
I’d only use it to get myself back together again, and then I could think straight and figure out what I should do next. A flash of a daydream became a potential future when saw myself telling Tria about the one last time I used. What I had to do to get the money for the drugs slammed into my head.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What else could I do?
My choices were becoming fewer and fewer all the time.
Could do it for the money instead of the smack…
No.
Fuck no.
Just one needle.
I pulled myself up using the door as leverage and then stumbled down the street. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, but looming ahead of me was a group of whores sharing needles and blowing guys as they pulled up in their cars.
Only a couple blocks away.
Gunfire startled me, and I looked to the opposite side of the street where two guys were running out of the alley. They jumped into the back of a rusted-out Monte Carlo, which then sped off down the middle of the road, nearly taking out one of the hookers in the process.
She flipped it off and screamed a few choice words at them as she stood in the middle of the street.
“Hey, man?” An elderly guy with tightly curled white hair on the top of his head stumbled from the edge of the building. “You got a light?”
“Uh…yeah…” I managed to mumble. I pulled my lighter out of my pocket and handed it to the guy.
“Got any cigarettes?”
Nice.
I handed him one, which he lit with a shaking hand before thanking me and dropping back to the ground near the edge of the building where the rain wasn’t quite as heavy. He crawled a few feet to a large cardboard box with a concave roof so he could smoke without the rain putting it out.
My attention went back to the junkies near the corner. They were all standing in the rain, shooting up and looking about as miserable as they could be. Except that I knew they didn’t feel miserable. They felt fucking fantastic.
She wants you clean.
“She doesn’t want anything from me,” I muttered. “I’ve got nothing to give her. Better off this way.”
My throat seized, and I had to stop for a moment and lean against the wall. I turned my head toward the sky, and rain poured over me, soaking me completely.
The heels of my hands pressed into my eye sockets, and my stomach cramped.
Doubling over, I wrapped my arms around my stomach and squeezed my eyes shut. After a minute or so, I managed to start breathing right again, but my head was still swimming from hyperventilating. Inside my head, small, insistent voices battled with each other.
I need Tria.
She doesn’t want you.
“I don’t deserve her,” I whispered. “Not like this. She shouldn’t have to be with someone like this, not when she’s…she’s…”
Heated wetness filled my eyes and streamed down my cheeks.
“She’s having my baby.”
Preorder Caged: Book 3—Released on Amazon today!
More Books by Shay Savage
Surviving the Storm Series:
Surviving Raine
Bastian’s Storm
Evan Arden Series:
Otherwise Alone
Otherwise Occupied
Uncockblockable (a Nick Wolfe story)
Otherwise Unharmed
Isolated
Irrevocable
Stand Alone Novels:
Transcendence
Offside
Worth
Alarm
Novella Collection:
Savaged
Caged Trilogy:
Takedown Teague
Trapped
Released
About the Author
Shay Savage lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her family and a variety of household pets. She is an accomplished public speaker and holds the rank of Distinguished Toastmaster from Toastmasters International. When not writing, she enjoys spending her weekends off-roading in her bright yellow jeep, watching science fiction movies, masquerading as a zombie, and participating as a HUGE Star Wars fan and member of the 501st Legion of Stormtroopers. When the geek fun runs out, she also loves soccer in any and all forms - especially the Columbus Crew, Arsenal, and Bayern Munich. Savage holds a degree in psychology, and she brings a lot of that knowledge into the characters within her stories.