Page 2 of Fiend
Ever since we found out she was pregnant, I stopped hurting her. I haven’t hit her hard enough to leave welts or bruises, nor have I seen her blood flow from any of my cuts. I haven’t even given a single fucking permanent blemish to her milky skin, and I crave it so fucking desperately, I can feel myself losing it. But I can hold on for a little bit longer.
I have to.
Feeling antsy in my own skin with the dangerous direction my thoughts are taking me, I give up the argument and leave Essa alone in the kitchen to drink her coffee. After I step outside—because I quit smoking inside, another somewhat reasonable demand of Essa’s—I light a cigarette, inhaling the nicotine into my lungs. I hold it for a few seconds, relishing in the burn before blowing out the white-gray smoke. My eyes follow as it curls around in the air before dissipating completely.
I shove my lighter back into my front right pocket before taking a seat on the wooden steps to stare out at the trees in front of me. Their pull over me is still as strong as the day I moved here, and I’ll admit, most of the time, I miss it. I crave who I used to be and what I used to do. A huge part of me always will, but I’m content. I’m… happy. I think.
Times like this, when I’m alone with my thoughts, I can’t help but think about how it could have all been so different. How I almost fucked everything up. How it all almost ended.
I killed Essa.
Her heart stopped by my hand.
It’s been over two years since then, and I still can’t fucking fathom it. The brutal reality that I put my own fucking hands around her throat and took her life from her—the one life I never had the right to take.
I didn’t fucking accept it back then, but she saved me. She saved me from the worst parts of myself—even after everything we both went through after she left me. And in return, I ruined her.
And now, we’re this. A fucking couple. Married and pregnant, living a mundane life.
What am I supposed to do when I have everything I never dreamed was possible… but it’s still not enough?
I’m fucking crawling out of my skin for something… more. I need more—and I have the opportunity for it. But the problem is, Essa can’t know.
It goes against everything I promised her when we had our small courthouse wedding about a year ago where, before the ceremony, I told her I was done with the killing. And the drug dealing. Basically, everything illegal I was doing for Leo.
Now, I fucking help run the pub.
I take the last drag and flick the butt across the driveway. It flies through the air before getting lost amongst the rocks. A thick blanket of gray clouds covers the sky, leaving the air dense and muggy with imminent rain.
My phone vibrating in my pocket pulls me from my reverie, and I lean back to pull it out. Leo’s name flashes across the screen, and I begrudgingly swipe to answer.
“Have you talked to her about it yet?” His deep voice booms through the speaker with no preamble.
“You don’t have to yell, you fucking dick. And no, I haven’t.” I swallow and grit my teeth, preparing myself for his verbal lashing.
“You fucking haven’t? What the hell, Vincent? We leavetomorrow.”
“I’m aware. I’ll talk to her about it later.” Another lie.
“Don’t fuck this up, Vincent. I’m sure she’ll understand. I’m not exactly thrilled about what we’re going to do, but I can’t leave you to do it yourself and fuck up. Essa would kill me if you got caught. And she’s fucking feisty. I’d rather not be on her bad side.”
“I wouldn’t fuck up,” I growl, and Leo breathes out, about to interrupt me when I speak again, effectively cutting him off. “But whatever. The fact is, it’s happening, and Essa will need to accept it for what it is.” I stand from the steps, sucking in a deep breath and changing the subject. “Can Jax still come over and keep her company? I don’t want to leave her alone.”
Leo sighs. “You know she’s not going to fucking like that, Vin.”
“I don’t fucking care. Can he or not?” I bite out. My anger spikes, and I let out a sardonic huff. Ironic how Leo always feels the fucking need to throw his two cents into my goddamn relationship when his is a fucking mess itself.
“Yep.” His answer is short and clipped, but I don’t give a shit. I just hang up and shove my phone back into my pocket. He needs to get his own mess of a life straightened out before he projects his problems into my relationship.
It’s been two fucking years, and I have absolutely no idea what is going on with him and Jaxon. One minute, they’re together and everything is good, and the next, shit is up in flames and one of them disappears.
It honestly gives me fucking whiplash, and I’m done trying to keep up.
It’s like the sky opens up the moment I start up the stairs, and rain pours down in heavy sheets. I halt my steps and roll my eyes into the back of my head while grinding my teeth so hard, pain shoots through my jaw. My hands clench into fists while gooseflesh arises on my bare arms and torso as I play my memories like a movie behind my closed lids.
Blood.
Choking sobs.
