Page 6 of His Holy Chaos

I start walking, the night air cool against my skin. If I got a rideshare, I’d probably puke all over it, so it’s better to walk. The streets blur together, familiar enough that I can navigate them even in my current state. Tears streak down my face, hot. I don't bother wiping them away.

I get to my apartment complex. I fumble with my keys at the door, dropping them twice before managing to get the right one in the lock. Before I can turn it, the door yanks open from the inside.

Noa stands in the doorway, his black hair everywhere like he's been running his hands through it. His expression shifts from worry to anger to resignation in the space of seconds.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he demands, stepping back to let me stumble inside. "It's four in the morning. You weren't answering your phone."

"Lost track of time," I mumble, kicking off my shoes and missing the rack entirely. "Don't start."

"Don't…" He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “We’re going to talk about this tomorrow, Piaf.”

The disappointment in his eyes is worse than any hangover, any physical pain. It's a reminder that my self-destruction has collateral damage: that people care despite my best efforts to push them away.

Noa sighs. He loops my arm over his shoulders, supporting my weight as we move toward my bedroom, even though he’s tiny compared to me. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"Sorry," I whisper, the word inadequate. I use it too much for it to mean anything. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Noa says quietly. "You always are."

I close my eyes against the truth of it, letting him guide me through the darkness of the apartment, toward another morning I'm not sure I want to face.

Chapter 4. Ford

I told him I have a bedtime, but it doesn’t matter when all I can do is stay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about our night.

I know I should have said no to Dave right away. Why would I go to a club? Me? I have nothing to do with the scene. My last sub was a casual partner I saw once every month, at most, and who never demanded anything from me. I wasn’t looking. I was perfectly content with my life, despite what Dave and Mom have to say. So, I don’t know what kind of demon possessed me to go to BratWorld.

And worse! Brats!

4:47 AM, thirteen minutes before my alarm, Angel's soft cries through the monitor start, first as hiccups before they gain momentum. I’m still thinking while I get up and pull on my robe, navy silk, a Christmas gift to myself, and go down the hallway. I never played with any brats. All of the scenes I’ve ever done were with good, obedient subs, who liked to be at my feet and call me Master. Brats liked to be forced to submit while they laughed in your face and disrespected you. No, thank you.

In Angel's room, I've memorized the placement of every object, so I can find everything in the dark. I turn the nightlamp to its lowest setting. The soft blue glows across the nursery. Angel's cries intensify at the sight of me. Her tiny arms reach up, fists clenched.

"Good morning, my love," I whisper, lifting her. Eight months old and she’s so, so big already. When she was a newborn in those first chaotic weeks after her birth, full of joy for her, full of grief for her mom, I thought she would never grow up, despite people telling me time would fly. But she did, of course she did.

The bottle waits downstairs. I retrieve it with one hand, my other arm cradling Angel against me. While the bottle warmer hums, I inhale Angel's scent. It reminds me of Sarah. Not one day goes by without me thinking of Sarah. My sister's absence is so strong that there are days I’m sure she’ll come out of the room, saying she was there all along. I have to keep busy so I don’t fall into a pit of horror and depression. Some days are harder, I feel like I must cling to anything that keeps me from spiraling. I can’t let depression win. Angel needs me. The bottle warmer beeps, and I test the formula on my wrist, confirming the temperature, then we go to the living room.

We settle into the leather recliner. Angel's tiny fingers grasp at my robe as she drinks, her blue eyes fixed on my face. Sarah's eyes and mine as well.

"You're growing too quickly," I tell her, adjusting her position slightly.

Angel responds by grasping my index finger, her grip surprisingly strong. I run my thumb across her cheek, feeling the soft skin, the perfect curve of her face. I force myself to focus on the present moment. I’m here with Angel. Everything is good.

But last night keeps flashing in my head. He has this ridiculous blond, almost white hair that looks so good with his square chin and defined jawline. He caught my attention from the second I put my eyes on him, across the dancefloor. He was drinking like a sailor and his movements were loud, exaggerated, exactly what I knew wouldn't work for me. Yet…

Angel finishes her bottle, and I shift her to my shoulder, patting her back in a rhythm. She burps with surprising force for such a small being. It always makes me chuckle.

"He disappeared for a year," Dave had told me earlier that night, watching Jude across the room. "His last Dom broke his heart. It was messy."

Devotion. That is a word I love. It's a word present in my everyday life, at every moment. When I go to church, when I take care of Angel, when I follow my routine with discipline.

As I carry Angel to the changing table, I try to focus on the fresh diaper, the familiar motions. But I keep seeing him. The way he staggered between barstools, shots lined up like ammunition. A mess. An obvious, visible mess.

"He used to be like a king here," Dave had said. "Everybody wanted to be his friend."

I think about how Jude looked when he was leaving. How something in my chest tightened at the sight of him walking away. That's when I'd turned to face him deliberately, caught his eyes across the room, and invited him over without a single word. He came, just as I hoped he would. Obedient, even if unconsciously.

I focus on Angel again. Focus. Present moment. But the thought of Jude persists. He was pretty. No, more than that. He was really handsome. Funny and witty. Definitely a little demon.