The Deal

Chapter Twenty Two

"Just wait until she gets real worked up over something and hits you, she's violent" he tells me, choking on his own voice. His words fly right over my head for the time being, I don't hear a thing he says except that enrages me. I yank him forward, drawing my arm back before my fist connects with his jaw with a loud snap and he groans in agony. "Let me make it clear to you, you so much as think about her and I'll fucking kill you" I drop him to the ground, standing up and heavy off my truck. Shaking my hand and trying to relieve the pain from punching him. If his jaw wasn't broken already it sure fucking is now.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, my gas pedal to the floor as I drive as fast as fucking possible, tearing around each corner hard enough to throw me against the fucking door.
Trying to convince myself not to turn around and fucking kill him. Just seeing his fucking face unleashes an anger I didn't know I fucking had and me and anger are quite fucking acquainted.

Trying to hear Liam's voice of reason talking me out of since I wasn't fucking wired with one of those.

After what feels like fucking hours and ten turns that lead fuck knows where, I can feel my anger high start to fade, like blood draining back into your arm that fell asleep.
My jaw slowly unclenches and I loosen my grip on the wheel. What the fuck did that mean? She gets violent? She hits?
I'd never fucking thought about it but I guess it doesn't seem too far off of something she'd do. I've seen her angry, with me. But nothing extreme. If she hit him he fucking deserved it. Hearing something like that only makes me realize that I don't know her. I don't fucking know anything about her and I don't fucking know if that's true. Nor do I fucking care to know her or find out.

He won't be coming near her, my motives have been met. This entire fuckery that has involved me can fucking die now. She wanted things to go back to normal that's what she'll get and playing protector won't be fucking part of it.

—Alilia—

I stare in the mirror again, brushing my fingers over the purple blotchy bruising across my neck. Feeling sick yet numb to it. It's tried to push itself to the surface in three days since it happened. But so far I've been able to shove it back down. Turn on music or take something. My pills are almost gone but I won't think about it. I won't think about what I'll do when I run out of them. My only option will be smoking or snorting it crushed up and as much as it terrifies me I will use it, chasing the high and being without it. Being drowned in withdrawals is much worse.

I've cut back on the pills however, trying to use as little as possible so they last longer. Maybe that's a good start to trying to stop but I don't want to stop. I don't want to remember what it feels like to live without being numb. I want to stop, drugs are a prison that I'm feeding myself, but I don't want what I'll feel if I do.

My phone buzzes and I move over to my bed seeing Rafes contact, ordering me to come over. That's odd. It's only nine. He usually texts me at late hours of the night or one in morning I should say.

I sigh, feeling half relieved he listened and isn't treating me like a fragile flower that might break under pressure. Im not broken because of what Kade did. I don't know what I am and I won't until I let myself process it but for now I am the same me because I refuse to think about it.

I am however still afraid he'll do something else to me and making the walk to figure eight in the dark is leaving a large door of opportunity open for him to do something.

Me: what if Kade is waiting for me to leave?

I text him back. I want everything to feel normal and sleeping with him has become normal. That and for some strange reason, I want it. I want him, I crave him.. in lust. Only in lust..