Page 50 of Brutal Knight

Ever since that moment after the wedding, that moment of heat that exploded between us, things have been strained. Weird. We’ve tiptoed around it since it happened, like we can avoid the reality that it happened if we just don’t talk about it.

Or look at each other. Or talk at all, really.

In my own head, all I can think is that I want to hope. I want to let myself hope that this marriage could be different than my marriage to Dmitri, but every time I start to slip up, all the memories come rushing back. All the awful images of Dmitri and what he would do intrude. All I’m left with is the reminder that I shouldn’t trust anyone.

It’s a reminder of what happened the last time I was naïve enough to hope. To trust.

I can never do it again.

The more I wander the house, the less it feels like a friendly space, and the more I feel like an intruder. I don’t deserve the warmth of this house. I don’t belong here. I don’t even know if I want to belong anymore. For all I know, the happy atmosphere is just my own lonely mind making things up.

What good is it, anyway? I know how reality comes crashing in. No amount of dreaming will make what I want a reality.

Anxiety gnaws at me while I pace through the rooms. I can’t focus on anything—not a book from the library, not a drink in the kitchen, not even the chance to snoop through Connor’s desk.

All I want is relief from this anxiety, this slow burning fear crawling through my body. It spreads like wildfire once it has its claws in me, searing my brain with images of everything that could go wrong.

There’s a little voice in my head telling me,He’s just like Dmitri. You just haven’t seen it yet.

I need it to be quiet.

I don’t think. I blindly grab the keys to one of Connor’s cars. It doesn’t matter that it’s his, or that he’ll know. I’m not thinking about him anymore. I’m thinking about me for once, and the way my brain is trying to eat me alive. I have to make it stop.

I run out the door without another thought, stepping into the garage and clicking the key until I figure out what car it unlocks.

I haven’t driven in ages. Dmitri wouldn’t let me near a car. He wouldn’t even let me near a bicycle. I feel like a teenager again, my father sitting beside me, one hand on my neck.

You’ll never be able to run,he said when he taught me to drive. He was right.

I drive blindly. It’s not until I’m miles away that I remember to think, focusing enough to turn the car to where I need to go. I drive by landmarks, slower than I probably should. A few cars honk at me on my way, but I ignore them.

I go to exactly where I was when I was first taken, where I was when I was picked up by Dmitri’s second. The streets are just as dirty and dark as they were then. It’s not even that late in the day, but it might as well be night. The evening sun is hidden behind cramped buildings shoved up against one another.

I pull over near an alley I recognize, locking the car behind me. I’m sure someone might break in, but I have to risk it.

There’s a man at the back of the alley. I recognize his type, although I don’t know him. Dealers all have the same kind of look.

I know I shouldn’t. I know it, but it’s not logic that’s driving me right now. It’s despair. Fear.

I know I will never be able to escape the life I was born and sold into. So if I can’t do that, I’ll do the next best thing.

The dealer doesn’t give a shit about me. I tell him what I want and he holds his hand out.

After paying him quickly, I shove the Demerol into my pocket and leave. As I drive, I consider just staying on the roads until I’m out of Boston, but it’s not like I have unlimited money. And I don’t know what Connor would do if I wasn’t home when he came back.

So, I try not to laugh at the irony of going right back to my cage. I drive to his house and park, then throw the keys on a table when I come back in.

As I make my way upstairs, I’m almost shaking from how much I need the Demerol to take the edge off. I need to just slip away, back to the place where I don’t feel a damn thing.

I press two pills into my mouth. But even though I swallow them quickly, they don’t work fast enough. My skin buzzes in agitation, and I stare at the bag in my hand. I know I shouldn’t do more, know I’ll be too high when Connor gets home.

But the monster in my mind doesn’t care right now.

I tip another two into my hand, more than I’ve taken before, and will them to work faster. I want to be far away, so much further away that not even Dmitri’s ghost comes to haunt me. I just need to feel nothing.

I think they’re bad until they finally start taking effect, and then it hits me all at once. The world warps, fuzzy around the edges as I try to focus. I look down at the small plastic sleeve in my hand and let it slip from my fingers. It feels strange, like liquid.

Everything is distant. It feels like my mind is floating away from my body, everything whirling around me. I don’t know if I’m actually breathing. I can’t feel my tongue.

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