Page 94 of Losing Faith

His words mean more to me than he knows, but as I open my mouth, a pain settles in my stomach. Sinking into my seat, I cling to my abdomen, silently cursing the aftermath that comes with relapsing.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson quickly rises to his feet.

I shake my head at him as I bury my face in the side of my pillow, waiting for it to pass. Pulling in a breath for strength, I shift in the bed. “The lack of drugs is just making my body hate me,” I mumble, trying to be grateful that the throwing up stopped.

Another pain hits and Jackson shifts me so he can lay beside me. He wraps his arms around me and I bury my face in his chest as a groan escapes me.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I shake my head in response, suddenly hating that he’s seeing this part of me. “You can go, Jackson…”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of my head and I let him hold me.

Chapter Twenty- Nine

Lisette

“Letmeoutofthisdamn house, Sire.”

He sits on his couch comfortably while his guard dog does her job and literally guards the door at his command. “Athena,heel.” I try to get her to move.

She looks over at Sire before looking at me and huffing in defiance. I reach for the handle but quickly pull away when she growls at me.

“I’m not scared of you,” I whisper to her, but when she barks at me, I take an intuitive step back.

“What was that?” Sire calls out and I turn on my heels.

“I’m being serious, Sire. Like, I might actually start crying. I need to get out of here.”

He turns in his seat to focus on me, but I’m not kidding. “Maybe you need to cry it out.”

“I’d rather die, which you witnessed,” I remind him and he flinches at my words. I let out a defeated sigh before walking over to him. “I’m sorry… that was fucked up to say.”

His eyes meet mine and the look on his face only make me feel worse.

“I swear I’m not going to do anything,” I promise him. “I just need air.”

“So let’s go on a walk together,” he suggests.

I roll my eyes at what he’s doing. I want to be alone and he knows that.

“You’re going through withdrawals,” he reminds me.

I don’t answer him. Instead, I bury my face in one of his pillows.

“I’m not an idiot, Lisette. You want to get high and that’s understandable, but you can leave next Wednesday. We agreed you’d stay for two weeks.”

“Forget what I said at the hospital,” I say into the pillow and if he understands me, he chooses not to answer.

While the withdrawals aren’t as bad as they were in the hospital, my body is still angry with me and I feel like shit. The only upside to today is that the physical pain stopped. “I fucking hate oxy when I’m not on it.”

My words only remind me how much better I’ll feel on it and I sit up to look at Sire. “Please—”

“No, but thank you for asking nicely. I was really dreading the bitchy, scary, ‘I want drugs’ Lisette.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll come out to say hi later,” I reply while flipping him off, and a smile grows on his face, but I’m too irritated to even attempt to smile.

I let my eyes fall shut when I feel my tears of frustration building.

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