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I got her to the house, trod the staircase, each slat creaking, and I placed her on the bed.
Her damp, dirty clothes wet the clean sheets. A sprinkle of goosebumps lined her arm, exposed to me by a tear in her layers of clothing.
My fingers brushed her skin, eliminating the tiny bumps beneath them.
Touching her reminded me how much more I wanted from her.
And why should I have to wait?
If I waited…if she were awake, she’d never want me now, not after selling her out for a bag of coke. She wouldn’t understand that need.
Just like I didn’t understand this need for her.
Her being out of it was a blessing—a gift from a cruel god because the Devil wouldn’t let me have her.
Life had taught me that people could live without giving a shit about another person, and it pleased them.
I could be one of those people. Maybe I was more like my mother than I thought.
I could use Cat and make a habit of visiting her as she slept.
I pulled the needle from my pocket and stared down at it for a second before I lifted her sleeve further and glided the pointed tip through her skin.
A little noise escaped her pretty mouth, open in a taunting O-shape.
I pushed the drugs into her skin, and I let them do their work.
There was no sign of Cedric’s skinny legs hobbling back to the house as I peered out the window, but his irritatingly loud voice proved he was up from the ground, again calling, “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled, unable to stand his sound.
The window slammed too hard as I pulled it down, eager to shut him out. My fingers shook as they dwelled there—definitely a side effect of the minimal shit in my system wearing off.
Hatred for that feeling swirled through my veins. I much preferred the artificial moods implanted by a mixture of substances that, together, made me feel better.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I sent Daniel a quick text—a response to the fifteen unread messages he’d sent me.
I don’t want to be interrupted tonight, or tomorrow. The cat is clingy after his injections. And that’s already fucking with my quiet night. And I have to find a way to relax before Saturday’s show, and I can’t do that with you nagging me all fucking night.
My phone flew to the bed, landing next to Cat, who stirred as it hit her leg.
What a stupid fucking move. I could have woken her, and I’d placed a phone right at her side, almost like I was hoping she’d call the police and prevent me from getting near her ever again. I rushed to collect it because that would not be fucking happening.
The dark hallway called me out, tempting me to investigate things that would amuse me while I waited the twenty minutes for the concoction to claim her fully.
There was heroin in this house, other stuff, too. I’d done well all day, sticking to weed and shaking like fuck because of it, but night added stress. Seeing Cat cry hurt me, and nothing had hurt me in so long.
I needed the feeling gone.
I needed all feelings gone.
In the hallway, I popped a bear into my mouth, then another one. I didn’t even chew, and a deep swallow meant they didn’t clog in the back of my throat. I still shook.
I stepped into Cedric’s room, a million redheads greeting me once more. Had he even noticed her photo gone? Did he guess that it was in my back pocket, safe in my wallet?
Pulling open his drawers, I searched through ancient shorts, all stained in some way or riddled with holes that his saggy balls would hang through.
None of that stopped me from looking.
