Page 33 of Reaper

“Nico. I don’t know what to do.”

I let the tears fall, as I dig my fingers into the earth beneath me. The very place he planned to take my life and, at this moment, I wish I had let him. I have spent most of my life blocking shit out, not feeling anything, and now it’s as if my entire being is nothing but the thing I’ve avoided most.

I collapse onto the ground, a sobbing mess, when I hear his voice again.

“Let the darkness in, living dead girl.”

My brain is fucking with me. Why are those the words my brain is playing on repeat?

After hours of laying on the cold ground, I get up because I need to numb this pain. I have to find a fucking drink.

Walking over to the gate, I try to see if there’s a way to get it open, and notice that it unlocks from the inside. I open it and leave it open because I’m coming back. This place has some odd connection to Nico for me. And I know if I come back here, I’ll feel him on some level. The emptiness is not as bad as it is in my apartment.

I get in my car and drive back to civilization. The streets are mostly vacant, but my heart stops for a moment, when an ambulance zooms by. It makes me think of the night I stabbed him. I should’ve stayed, instead of running away like a coward. Is that why he died? Because I called his brother, instead of 9-1-1? Maybe it took Bones too long to get to him. I should have saved him the way I knew he would’ve saved me.

My vision blurs as I remember that night, as I pull into the parking lot of the only bar I see.

“Bella, I’m an asshole. I know that. But baby, please, you’re the only good thing in my life. Please don’t do this. I’m begging you. Don’t do this to me.”

His voice sounded so raw, desperate for me to not end my life. He wasn’t pleading for his safety, but mine. And that makes me a bigger monster than he ever was. I wipe my tears away and head into the bar. A dive calledShots.Not an especially creative name, but exactlywhat I’m after. I have no plans on driving drunk, but I do want to numb myself for a little while. I need to.

Walking up to the bar, I order two shots of tequila as I take a seat on a black stool, and the bartender raises an eyebrow.

“Got ID, darlin’?” he drawls, with a southern accent that doesn’t quite fit around here.

Opening my purse, I hand him my driver’s license and he tips his black cowboy hat.

“Okay, Miss Arabella, top shelf?”

I nod at him. “It’s Bella. Top shelf is fine.”

He smirks at me as he sets the two shots in front of me with lime and salt.

“Alright, Miss Bella, let me know if you need anything else.”

The bar is less dingy than the outside, but it’s still not a classy place. It’s got a small black bar that’s covered in scratches, and six bar stools bolted to the floor. It’s a tiny place with only four black tables, and a jukebox with an out-of-order sign taped to it.

Throwing back the first shot, I close my eyes as the burn travels from my throat to my chest. Then, I do the same thing with the second, when a man approaches me and sits on the barstool beside me.

“Hi, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”

I shake my head no, as I motion for the bartender to bring me another shot of tequila.

“I’m good. I can buy my own drinks and I’m not interested.”

I can feel his glare on me, even though I’m looking straight ahead. I don’t need to see it to know it’s there.

“No need to be a bitch. What’s wrong with you? Take the drink like any other slut and say thank you.”

“Let the darkness in, living dead girl.”

“Nico,” I gasp under my breath, but the asshole beside me hears it.

“Who the fuck is Nico?”

Without bothering to answer this guy, because I don’t owe him anything, I toss back my third drink and set money on the bar and leave.

As I walk out to my car, I hear footsteps behind me.

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