Page 74 of Final Temptation
The guilt has been eating me from the inside out for so long now; there was no other answer besides what was in this bottle.
Tipping the bottle back, I took another pull, this one a little longer than the first.
Some of my darkest days were spent in that month. I spent days drinking my life away, some nights going to bed with hopes I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.
With every drink I took, my mind wandered further down the path leading me to that night. I realized what I already knew but had no proof of. In that moment, I was a good fucking person. I did everything I could to save his life. I searched endlessly for a phone, a way to contact help. Logan ripped that opportunity from me at the same time he stole any life that Anthony may have had left in him.
That’s why he’s rotting in prison, not you.
Reminding myself didn’t help. I still allowed the guilt to eat me alive.
The instant his fist connected with my face, each breath Paige’s father had left in him slowly faded, help getting further and further away.
On October 9th, I woke up at Logan’s house with a pounding headache and a foggy memory. I knew the night prior some shit had gone down. I remembered an accident, but it wasn’t until the news broke that I knew the man in that truck was Anthony Wilson.
I had to give it to Logan; he was quick on his feet. But it didn’t take long to catch up to him. He took full advantage of me when I asked him what had happened the night prior.For a whole fucking month, he nailed it into my head that I was behind the wheel, that I killed the father of my brother's new girlfriend—his ex-girlfriend.
When Paige returned home to mourn her father, none of us expected her and Declan to reconnect and end up together. But when Logan caught on to their relationship, he only used me as a pawn. He wanted to be the hero, when in reality, he was the villain all along.
The whole time, I was too drunk to see what was in front of my fucking face.
He wanted to get away with murder, get the girl,andruin my life all at once.
He was a fucking narcissist.
“Fuck you, Logan,” I mumbled under my breath, draining more tequila down my throat.
It didn’t matter that he’d been caught in his web of lies; I’d never forgive myself for hanging out with him that night at a random fucking house party.
My eyes began to droop, the heaviness in them returning from earlier. I refused to sleep until this bottle was empty. I was in the driver’s seat, finally taking control of each image that flashed in my mind the moment my eyes fell shut.
My phone dinged, the sound shooting my eyes open.
“Sophie.” My breathing sped up; my heart conflicted with what to do. Do I answer my girlfriend? The girl I was positive I was so fucking in love with? The girl I didn’t deserve whatsoever?
Opening the text, my heart dropped.
Sophie: Hey, I just got home. Where are you?
Even through a text message, I could sense her worriedtone. She should be worried. I was doing the exact thing she was worried I’d be doing.
“She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t fucking deserve her,” I slurred, my head banging against the headrest. Once, twice, three times. I continued to throw my head into the seat, grunting and crying with each knock my head took.
It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since I asked her to be mine, and I was already ruining it. I was breaking her heart, and she didn’t even know it. But I knew Sophie, and you could hear her heart breaking from miles away through a single text message.
The phone fumbled through my fingers, dropping to the floorboard as I tossed around the idea in my head to text her back. I had no idea what I would say to her; I just knew I needed her.
But I needed to finish this bottle more.
I was being tempted once again, love on one shoulder, evil on the other.
Maybe this bottle would be my final temptation. Maybe I’d get sober after this, maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I’d die on this hill of being an alcoholic, with many more bottles of tequila in my future. Or maybe I’d get better and accept that someone could love me as fucked up as I am.
Who knows, maybe I wouldn’t make it past twenty-two.
Final temptation or not, I’d deal with the consequences later.
I hadn’t beenout this late since I used to bartend, not getting off work until the early hours of the morning. It was incredibly fun to catch up with Paige, dive more into wedding planning, and tell her about my and Myles’ relationship.
