Page 2 of Raine
Acheron.That man is hot as sin, but fuck, he could give me an aneurism with how obnoxious he is.
It’s no secret that we’ve never been able to be in the same space as each other without wanting to rip each other’s throats out, but there is a familiarity I sense within him, one that I wrestle with daily.
He has some fucked-up demons, some of which I’ll never be privy to — ones he’s only ever disclosed to Justyce. But that’s ok because I have enough to keep my mind occupied with as it is.
A glimmer on my black and purple gothic-style dresser snags my attention, causing my blood to wheeze within tired ventricles and shaky hands.
Shaking my head, I peel off the leggings and white tank top I put on when I arrived back home, discarding the tight dress from last night down the laundry chute. It’s a pity I can’t do that with myself, with my life.
Laying back on my disheveled bed, I roll over onto my stomach, the dark purple velvet feeling scraping along my exposed skin, feeling like rough sandpaper instead of soft fabric.
It won’t be long until I experience the unmistakable sensation of ants crawling under my skin, right before they burrow into my dermis and subcutaneous layer. But it’s not that feeling that has my body leaning toward powdered magic or liquid courage. It’s this gaping and hollow feeling that is relentless, forever scrabbling and attaching itself to every weakness I’ve ever possessed.
I try not to give it attention or energy, but it’s a persistent little fucker, that demon of mine. One day I’ll snuff it out, but that day isn’t today.
Pushing off the soft bed, my body feels broken, a niggling pain flaring between my legs and landing at my feet. Damn assholes must have screwed me into the wall with my heels on.
A memory starts to surface, but I push it down, my body gravitating toward the broken mirror sitting on my dresser, the intent pulsing throughout my body.
Standing over the jagged piece, I look at the white lines racked up, ready to be snorted up my nose. The draw is indescribable, magic powder whispering shattered promises in my ears as I pick up the rolled Benjamin next to it.
My hands shake and my body vibrates with fevered energy, one that I hate to admit has to do with the coke in front of me.
I just need some sleep and to forget the pain that is my life, so what if I fuck and inhale drugs like they’re candy? It’s my body and my right.
Just as I lean down to snort a line, my phone blares in the distance, causing me to curse and throw the rolled bill back on the dresser.
The damn thing is making my head bang the longer it rings, but I can’t for the life of me remember where I put it. Throwing the black and purple pillows to the floor, I rip the duvet back and find my phone.
Justyce’s name flashes across the screen, and I grimace, knowing I have to pick it up. He’s not only my brother from another mother; he’s also my boss.
Groaning, I reach for the phone and pick it up like it’s rimmed with fire.
“What can I do for you, J?” I croak.
“Are you ok? I haven’t heard from you since our recent development.”
He’s talking about imprisoning his father in his own mental asylum and saving his girl, Kenzi, from the sick fuck. He’s careful on the phone, not wanting to divulge anything that could implicate any of us. Not that our phones can be traced, but one can never be too careful.
Rolling my eyes, I answer, “It’s been three days, Justyce.”
“Three long days, Rainey.”
“Don’t call me that, asshole.”
He chuckles down the phone. “Come over now. We have shit to discuss.”
“Right now?”
“Did I stutter,Rainey?”
“Fuck you!”
“I’ll see you soon.” He disconnects the phone without bothering to wait for my smartass remark.
My eyes travel to the cocaine again, but I shake my head. Justyce’s random call must have been some divine intervention from the universe or some shit.
But try as she might, I’m the master of my future and demise. Shimmying back into my leggings and white tank top, I throw my wild orchid hair up into a messy bun and slip into a pair of white Converse.
