Point Of View 2 [*Do not read until you've read the same chapter of ATW]

Chapter 149 Any Thrill Will Do

*Trisha*

"All I've ever wanted was to make you happy. But you addressed so stubborn."

"You're drunk, Dave. You're drunk and you won't let me help you. I can't do this anymore." I cried, desperate for a change. "I've tried everything. But I can't force you to give up your addiction. You need to want to do it for yourself. And until you get to that stage...I- I can't." I stammered and twisted the beautiful diamond engagement ring off my finger.

Dave was so drunk I didn't even know if he would remember this. But I gently put the ring in his hand and tried to walk past him. I should have known better. You can't talk to Dave when he is like that. Drunk Dave is unreachable, untouchable, and violent.

"What the fuck, Trisha. Are you serious?" He grabbed my forearm and yanked me back into the wall so hard the impact knocked the breath out of me.

"Stop!" I yelled, trying to wiggle my way out of Dave's grip. He pressed his body against mine and the alcohol scent coming off his body filled the air around me.

"You're my fiancé." He hissed against my cheek and stiffened.

"You're so drunk. Get off me. I'm serious!" I snapped. "You don't want to get the help you need and I'm not marrying a drunk."

My words hit him hard.  His face twisted and he tore his mouth away from my face, glaring at me.

The first hit was the hardest. I couldn't understand why it hurt so much more than any other time until I realized what Dave hit me with. 

His gun.

*****

I bolt up flailing and gasp for air. Shaking, sweating, crying, hyperventilating. My bedroom door swings open and Evan barrels in to see what's wrong.  Having jumped out of bed the bodyguard wears only his black boxer briefs. His bare shoulders drop at the sight of me.

"Again?" He asks in a raspy voice from just waking up. 

All I can do is nod, still unable to catch my breath. Finding out the bodyguards all carry guns triggered something in me yesterday. It brought back horrific memories of how abusive Dave got when his addiction took over his mind and body. The memories resurfaced in my dreams.

 Usually, my nightmares involve the car accident but tonight the vivid dream was once my reality of a life I lived that no one knew about. Not Nate. Not my mother. No one. Only Dave. Drunk Dave. The physical and mental abuse I have shoved in the back of my head for so long that I have yet to overcome. Shit's getting worse. I can't go on tour with Nate and start waking everyone up in the middle of the night.

I'm going to have to talk to Jeremy about this in therapy.

*******

*James*

Julia's not well. This whole week has been a blur, and I think she's getting worse. Usually, I don't pry. I wait for Julia to come to me to talk. I don't meddle in her business or ask for details, but I do ask if she is ok. 

She's distancing herself from me and I'm not sure why. We used to talk about everything. It would all flow so freely. Now Julia is shutting me out.

"You can't tell me she's doing better because she's not." Nate paces back and forth in the living room bickering with Dr. Donovan. He moved into a different apartment a week ago and since then, Julia's moods have been all over the place. She cried herself to exhaustion in the tub today and Nate had to pluck her out of the water and put her robe on for her before laying her in her bed.