Page 25 of Addicted

HUGH

I’d gotten up early to make a plan for the day and to get out some of my rage.

The gym in our building was equipped enough, but what I really wanted to do was box. I hadn’t been to my gym in Oakland in months and I hadn’t felt the need to. Not until today. I wanted to pummel something. No, I wanted to pummelsomeone.

Leaving Curtis with all of his limbs had been a mistake. If I could go back in time, I’d take his pinkies. It was easy enough to do. I’d spent far too much time perfecting the angle to best sever the tendons, muscle, and bone.

Imagining it filled me with a feral satisfaction that whet my bloodlust. It had been so long since I’d felt bone give way beneath my fingers. Part of me wanted him to come back, wanted him to try me. Unleashing all of this energy on him would be a dream.

That’s why I had to get out of the condo early. I couldn’t let Denise see that side of me. It’s one thing to know that someone exchanged a few blows with someone else, but I knew what I became when Switch took hold. My rage made me feral and ruthless.

It took me years to train it out of my system, to think logically and clearly instead of letting my emotions fuel my decisions. I’d never let Switch into my life, not for anything. At least, I never had before. But there was something about Denise. Watching her, connecting with her. She could tell me to fuck off right now and I would, no questions asked. Hell, she could show up twenty years from today and ask me to help her bury a body and I would take care of it.

She had me.

Watching her quiet and somber last night made me feel helpless and that made me even more angry. I wasn’t some twelve-year-old kid anymore and yet… I couldn’t fix this. I had to bite my tongue and let Denise feel her feels for the rest of the night. When she looked around the cleaned apartment she wasn’t as dejected as she had been.

She only cried once.

Her fingers traced across the edges of a slashed and bleach-stained chair before she looked at the now-empty bookshelf. Something told me he knew just how to hurt her, and her books had something to do with it. By the time we walked out of the apartment, she’d dried her faceand was holding a few toiletries that had escaped unscathed.

When Cleo walked up with two full suitcases, Denise didn’t even give her a hard time. She just handed her one of the new spare keys and gave her a hug.

When the driver pulled up, I opened her door for her. He came to grab her bags and I turned to look at Cleo.

“Take care of her, Hugh.”

I nodded and gave her a hug.

“I will,” I replied.

“Don’t make me mace you.” She winked at me as she turned to walk away.

“Are you sure we can’t drop you off?” I asked.

“Nah. I’m four streets up,” she replied, already walking up the street with a wave. That didn’t stop me from watching her as she walked up the hill and out of sight.

Our ride back to my place was silent. I let it stay that way. I figured Denise needed the space to breathe and think. I’d expected a quip about my ostentatious condo as we pulled up but she barely even looked up as we walked through the lobby and onto the elevators. When we came in I pointed her to the spare room and all she’d uttered was, “Thank you,” before she walked inside and shut the door behind her.

I’d stayed up a little late, just in case she came out and needed something, but at two a.m. I called it a night. Ididn’t need a lot of sleep as it was, but what little rest I did get was haunted by memories of the past.

Switch’s memories.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the snick of it. His switchblade.

I’d fucked up.

I put in so much work to put all the shit behind me and when I’d seen Curtis I cracked the door and let a little bit of Switch seep in. Now all I could think about was breaking that piece of shit’s ribs. And his jaw.

The gym helped. I was able to exhaust myself, sweat through my shirt, and think of anything and everything that didn’t include an angry twelve-year-old doing shit that would make grown men puke.

When I walked back inside the house at seven a.m., there she was.

Denise was standing in my kitchen, wearing a tight-ass pair of jeans, that hugged every inch of her delectable ass and a t-shirt that did nothing to hide those gorgeous tits that I immediately wanted in my mouth.

I don’t know what I expected when I came back, but it wasn’t a fully dressed woman scribbling on a piece of paper. Her face was scrunched up in a look of concentration that was so cute I had to fight every urge not to pluck the lip from between her teeth and occupy her mouth with… something else.

Fuck, I wasn’t going to survive this weekend.

---