Page 98 of Missing Piece
“No one can satiate his hunger for long…”Richard’s words from back in the club bathroom bounced around in his mind. He had been able to push the echoes of the memory away when it had just been them at the farmhouse. Vincent was kind and sweet to him. Loving. But seeing Vincent act likethatfractured that idea.
Adam leaned forward, elbows on knees, head in hands. His breaths came shallow and quick as if trying to escape the realization clawing at his insides.
“You were just shacking up with a monster,” he said aloud, needing to hear the words to believe them. “And you thought…God, you thought…”
The room felt suffocating, closing in around him with every passing second. He stood abruptly, knocking over an empty beer bottle that clattered noisily across the floor. He paced the small space of his apartment, steps heavy with frustration and despair.
Vincent had made him feel safe for a moment, like he mattered. But it was all a lie, a dangerous fantasy.
Adam’s chest heaved as the sobs broke free. He sank to the floor, clutching at his sides as if trying to hold himself together.You almost got yourself killed for a monster. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Stop crying, you fucking idiot. Stop fucking crying.
The weight of the confrontation with Richard bore down on him, each memory a fresh wound. Richard’s face, dark and monstrous, haunted him; the delight in his voice at the violence and depravity he was ready to inflict, and then to see that same predatory look on Vincent’s face, to hear that same delight when they were with Caleb…
“Stop it,” he muttered to himself through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to think about that.
His fingers dug into the thick material of his jeans, knuckles turning white as he fought against the rising tide of hopelessness. The idea of facing that side of Vincent again, even as a pretense, twisted something deep inside him.
How could you love someone capable of that?
You don’t deserve love.
You’re meant to be alone. You only deserve the love of a monster that will kill you.
His sobs grew quieter but no less intense. His mind was trying to make so many contradicting ideas fit together, and it hurt.
Adam’s gaze drifted towards the bathroom door, a flicker of dangerous temptation igniting. He knew what lay hidden there—the pills he’d stashed away for emergencies, for moments just like this when the pain became unbearable.
They can take it all away. You won’t have to feel this anymore.
No…He had so many days clean he had lost count. So many days without even thinking about using…
Only because you had to worry about keeping all your blood in your body.
He shook his head violently as if trying to dislodge the thoughts clinging to his mind like leeches. But they persisted, wrapping around his resolve and squeezing tight.
“What’s the point?” he whispered brokenly. “Why keep fighting?”
The allure of oblivion called to him, promising an end to the torment. His body wavered with indecision as he slowly pushed himself off the floor and took tentative steps towards the bathroom.
With each step closer, his mind screamed for release while some faint part of him begged for another way out—a way that didn’t involve numbing himself into nothingness.
But that negative voice drowned out all else.
Just do it. You were never truly lovable anyway. You’re a fucking junkie. Just be a junkie.
Adam made his way into the bathroom, flicking on the light of a singular lightbulb that hadn’t burned out. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing mockingly around him as he watched himself from a far corner of his mind, detached from the body that now went through the motions.
He lifted the back of the toilet lid, the weight of it stilling his hands’ movement for a moment. He had forgotten how cold the water in the back of the tank was, but the shock of it did not deter him as he detached the stash with a jerky yank.
The pill bottle felt heavier than it should have, but the layers of plastic wrap and Ziploc baggies had kept the water out. His hands shook uncontrollably as he began to unwrap the bottle, each layer peeled away with excruciating slowness and sending a flurry of water droplets all around him.
Adam’s breath hitched as he stared at the bottle in his palm. The temptation to open it and swallow every pill gnawed at him like a ravenous beast. He could almost taste the bitter relief they promised, an end to all the pain and confusion.
“What’s the point?” he muttered to himself again, voice cracking.
He gripped the bottle tighter, knuckles whitening. The pills were so close, just one twist away. But something deep inside him resisted, clinging desperately to whatever shred of hope remained.
