Page 113 of For Wrath and Redemption
Who can I trust if I can’t even trust myself?
“Well. Just remember your worth,” I say, the words tasting like bile.
Jonah was right. I’m a hypocrite.
Mabel says something else, but I don’t hear her. I put my headphones in and start my warm-up. Once I’m through that, I go full out. I break into a run, but instead of quieting my thoughts, they just get louder. They spiral faster with each rotation of the tread under my feet.
Conrad offered me three times my salary to come back. When I turned him down, he once again threatened to blackball me.
I punch the button on the screen, increasing the speed.
I’ll have to change careers. Moving out of New York won’t even work. Conrad Henderson has connections all over the world. I could attempt to freelance, but I would have to move back to Virginia. I’d probably have to take on a second job, anyway. I’d have to go back to a place where I don’t belong, and I’m not wanted. A place that has never, truly, felt like home.
And Jonah...
God, how could this even work? I guess if Conrad does ruin my career, he’d have no other moves to play. There would be no reason to hide my relationship with Jonah. My insides churn.
I turn the speed higher. My head starts to swim.
What do I want? What is even possible? And does what I want even matter?
What do I deserve?
I grit my teeth on that question. I blink the sweat out of my eyes, reaching up quickly to wipe it away. My stomach roils.
I glance at the treadmill screen again. Five miles. I can make it to six. I ignore the familiar lightheadedness. I’ve pushed through it before. It happens when I work out on an empty stomach, and despite myself, I visualize my stomach shrinking. My body using every fat cell. Every calorie. Every flaw.
Burning them all up until they’re gone.
One more week until the band takes their three-week break. I just have to make it through Amsterdam. Then I can take a breath and clear my head. I’ll call my therapist. I’ll get myself back under control. Then I’ll figure out what to do.
I max out the speed until I’m full-on sprinting. I blink away the spots in my vision.
Just another half mile, I tell myself.Push, push, push.
Then it all goes dark.
“Yeah, just tell them I might be late to soundcheck when they get back. We’re pulling into the hospital now.”
I blink my eyes open. The underside of Mabel’s face is the first thing to come into focus. I’m in her lap. There’s a pounding in my head. I move my hand to my forehead, and she looks at me.
“Oh, thank God,” she says to me, then she goes back to her phone. “She’s awake. I’ll keep you informed.”
Mabel drops her phone on the car seat, but when I try to sit up, she puts her arm across my chest gently.
“Girl, just stay down, okay? You’ve got a nasty gash on your head.”
“Shit.”
I lie back and close my eyes. That’s when I realize there’s a towel being held to my forehead, just along my hairline. It’s Mabel. She must be holding something over my, as she called it,gash.
“So, that’s why my skull feels like it’s been cracked open.”
Mabel snorts out a laugh. “Yep. Kinda has been.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. One minute you were running like you were being chased, and the next minute you were unconscious and bleeding on the ground. Scared the shit out of me.”
