Page 38 of Final Temptation
We needed help.
Whoever was in that car needed help.
The desperation kicked in as I followed the trail of blood, leading me straight to the bright red truck. I could reach out and touch the rusted metal; it was so close—I had finally made it. Logan calling out my name was just a whisper in the wind behind me.
I rounded the corner, getting closer to the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“Hey! Hey!” I yelled through the broken window.
No response.
The driver was slumped over the steering wheel. His hair full of blood and debris. I couldn’t see his eyes; I couldn’t see who it was. But I could see that he was alone.
He had to have a phone in here somewhere.
I wanted to shake the guy awake, face him in my direction. Shivers ran up my spine—I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he was.
“Wake up, man! I’m going to get you help!” It was so dark out, making my search for his phone almost impossible.
Heavy footsteps approached behind me.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
I quickly turned on my heels, and dark, evil eyes stared back at me.
I blinked away the haze the neon lights had me in. Everything I saw was red: the truck, the blood, and the liquor store sign flashing, persuading me to come inside.
Every night when I shut my eyes, I saw Paige’s father. I saw himalivebecause that’s exactly how he looked the last time I saw him.
The thought of my repeated nightmares eventually revealing his bloody face scared the shit out of me. It scared me so much; I didn’t think I’d ever come back from it.
I turned my car keys, shutting off the engine. Each step I took out of my jeep, and closer to the liquor store entrance, felt like every step I tried to take toward the smashed-up vehicle in my dreams.
Slow and heavy.
The bell rang over my head as I walked through the glass door.
“Welcome in,” the guy called out from behind the front counter.
It was an out-of-body experience. The angel on my shoulder, the one who had been attending meetings almost every day, knew this wasn’t where I belonged. But the devil was steering, taking full control of my body.
I’d been to this store plenty of times; it was my muscle memory taking over, leading me down the aisle that carried what I craved almost every day.
I stared at the wall full of tequila. It didn’t matter which one I drank; any of them would get the job done. They allhad the ability to help me forget. I grabbed the cheapest one off the lower shelf—I didn’t deserve the good stuff. Top-shelf liquor was meant for celebrating, and the thought of relapsing wasn’t something to applaud over.
I set the bottle of clear liquid on the counter. “Is this going to be all for you today?” the employee asked.
I nodded my head in response.
He wrapped the bottle in a brown paper bag and sent me on my way. There hadn’t been any other time since last October that I felt this low. Holding my greatest temptation in my hands was ground zero for me.
I passed the bottle back and forth in my palms, feeling the weight of the cheap plastic container, contemplating whether I should open it—smell it. My mind drifted to Sophie. The way she tasted, with alcohol on her tongue.
I craved the taste of it again.
