Twisted Crush

Chapter One

Chapter One:

Sick. You're sick. So sick.

I loathe that word. It defines me, it chases me in my nightmares, it strangles me when I'm not expecting it. It could go to hell for all I care.

That word is the reason why I'm afraid of everything. I don't go for what I want because it. I don't ask for anything from anyone. And I definitely don't pursue my crushes.

But all it takes is one temptation, and I can't resist.

Because I'm sick.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has tried to maintain my "illness". She would say, "Rachel, darling, if you don't think about anything sinful, you won't sin.". But that method never worked, even after she'd beat me senseless after I did the things she considered wrong.

The only person who understood my sickness was my best friend. But after she died, I had no one else. All I wanted was a new start.

So I moved far far away from home. I started new, changed my last name, and deleted all contact information I had of my mother. I was determined of having a better life.

Goodbye, Regalton. Hello, Westchester.

It started normal. I got a new apartment, and I made friends with the girl I'm sharing rent with - although she isn't the same as Debbie ever was. I got a new job, and I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

But in my position, all it takes is one second - or person - to fuck it all up.

As soon as I laid eyes on Trey Donovan, I knew I wanted him.

Even if I knew before how wrong he was, how toxic he'd be for me, I probably would have wanted him more.

No matter what I would have known or did, Trey still would have brought a sledgehammer to my life, wrecking and breaking it. No matter the damage, he would have left it worse than it was before I met him.

**

Friday, February 5th, 2016

4:32 P.M.

I've been good. Every day I went to work this week, I saw Trey at least five times each day. I held it together. I didn't pull him into the supply closet and rip his clothes off. I didn't kiss him during the meeting with the China market. I didn't flash him.

Don't get me wrong; it's tough. It's like the thirst alcoholics have when they go hours without a drink. It's the ache and burn vampires feel when they see an open wound on a human. I want to scratch at my throat to ease the itch, even if it means I tear my jugular in the process.

I unlock the door to my apartment. As I enter, my roommate, Kayla, never glances up from her Cosmo magazine as she lounges on the sofa.

"How was work?" she asks, her nose still deep in the mag. "Anything interesting happen?"

I could go for a drink, I think as I toss my jacket onto the back of the armchair. "You know, work is work." I sigh as I sink into the chair across from her.

Finally, her wild green eyes lift, and they stare at me above the pages in her hands. "Really? Just work?" Kayla slaps the magazine down onto the coffee table in front of her. "You always have something to say about it. Why so quiet?"

I swallow hard. Something that always would get me in trouble was gossip, or saying too much. But it kills me not to share my infatuation with my co-worker.