I woke up in a cold empty bed, alone.
I wasn't sure where she slept. I didn't know if she even slept at all. When we had retreated to her room earlier, she merely told me to sleep. I'd tried to stay awake, silently watching her as she sat by the window, taking large swigs from a bottle of scotch while smoking like a chimney.
I didn't know if she was aware that I was watching her, I couldn't find it in me to care if she did. I couldn't help it. I couldn't look away. She was like the moon. Exactly like the moon.
After a while, I didn't know when, I fell asleep with thoughts of her wandering in my mind but I could have sworn I heard her crying. I was in too deep in my sleep to know if it was a dream or not. Either way, her sobs haunted me.
I shifted, the soft fabric of the bed sheets feeling like clouds underneath me. I looked around, seeing the entirety of my surroundings for the first time. Everything in the room was white and the room itself was large, probably larger than my entire apartment. But still, it felt... empty.
There was a fireplace across the room with a set of white Victorian couches surrounding it and a flat screen TV was perched above it while a sheer canopy sheltered the King sized bed. I turned to my side and a long, thick white velvet curtain hung over the floor to ceiling windows, shrouding the room from natural light apart from the balcony. The ceiling was painted with lifelike images of cherubs sitting atop clouds and as if that wasn't enough, there was a crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the ceiling. It was almost like a small chapel instead of a bedroom.
I had always known that the esteemed Lastors were rich. It was hard to miss what with Jude driving a different car nearly every time I saw him. Back in college, he had offered to share an apartment together with another friend of ours and I was all too willing to split rent. I didn't realize the guy got us a penthouse until the day we moved in, and it wasn't much later that I found out he owned the damned building. I didn't necessarily come from the slums but I had a good bet that my parents' house could fit into this extravagant mansion six times. And a half.
There was a knock on the door and I flinched.
What if it was her Mother? Or Father? God forbid it was her brother.
"Miss Lastor? I've brought your meal."
I didn't know what to do so I just stared at the door in complete horror but when the girl knocked again, I had no other choice but to open it.
She didn't bat an eye and offered a cordial smile. She was looking at me and I looked back at her. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
What the hell do I do?
As if hearing my thoughts, she cleared her throat, her smile still intact as she purposely glanced inside the room.
"Oh. Yeah, come in," I stammered out when I caught myself.
Bless the girl for not making me feel like more of an idiot than I already was when she simply shuffled inside the room, rolling in the trolley filled with food.
"Where would you prefer them, Sir?"
I scratched my head, looking around. "Um... the table, I guess."
She wordlessly did the task, setting each dish on the center table and placing my clothes from last night by the edge of the bed, all neatly folded and quite possibly washed.
"Do you still need anything else, Sir?" she asked when she'd finished.
"Uh... no. Thank you." She nodded and headed for the door. "Wait." I caught her arm and she practically jumped, gasping. I immediately drew my hand back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I... I was just going to ask. Do you… know where Angel is?"
"Miss Lastor never left the room," the girl mumbled in apparent confusion.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes. She never leaves her room."
I arched a brow and gestured behind me. She glanced around the expanse of the room.
"Miss Lastor often disappears without being noticed," she said, her voice whining as if Miss Lastor was a royal pain in the ass.
"Well, where does she often disappear to then?"
She bit her lip, fumbling with her apron. "I... I don't know." I sighed. "Don't worry, Sir. Miss Lastor just likes to be alone, is all," she said, her voice hush as if she was talking about something forbidden. She glanced warily around us and gestured for me to come closer. "She will come back," she assured with a firm nod. "She likes to hide. No one can find her unless she wants to be found. Miss Lastor just doesn't like mornings." She shook her head in dismay, glancing at the bed. "She's probably resting. You can't disturb her. Master Jude is the only one who wakes her. He doesn't allow us. She doesn't rest enough."
I frowned, looking at the girl intently and she averted her eyes, pursing her lips and looking like she was cursing at herself for talking.
What is it with this goddamn family?
As if knowing she was being talked about, the devil herself walked out of a door that probably led to the bathroom, wearing nothing but a skimpy towel, her purple hair dripping by her shoulders, turning a shade darker.
She eyed us for a moment, her bright silver eyes holding nothing. Her gaze landed on the maid and she gestured come hither with her finger. Bowing her head, the girl approached her.
Without speaking, she dropped her towel, shamelessly baring her naked body. The girl took the silk robe hanging by the dresser and carefully slipped it on Angel.
She went to sit in front of the vanity, picking up a pack of cigarettes and biting the filter of one, pulling it out of the box. Producing a lighter from her pocket, the girl lit up the cigarette before going to the window. With a forceful yank, she pulled apart the curtains, illumiating the room with bright sunlight. She pushed the windows open and went to the bathroom, taking a towel and gently patting Angel's hair dry with it.
I caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, the cigarette dangling between her pale lips while a fog of smoke exited her nostrils at each slow breath. As she sat there, her head tilted back and the sunlight hitting the damp skin on her neck, I found myself at a loss.
Angel Lastor was indeed the moon. Gloomy. Mysterious. Beautiful.
But a bitch. Let's not forget about that.
"Stop staring," she said, her eyes remaining closed.
I flinched, that sense of unease I sometimes felt whenever I was with her slithering through my nerves. I couldn't explain it, except that I always found myself struggling to cope with her. She could be so utterly overwhelming at times that even her gaze made my skin crawl if she looked at me too long. It came in waves, this feeling. Deceptively gentle and unmistakably deadly if you let it get the better of you.
"You should eat your food before it gets cold, Rick."
I glanced at the table, filled with generous platefuls of food. Sausages. Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Muffins. Sandwiches. Two coffees and a pitcher of water.
"What's wrong?" I heard her ask.
"There's enough food for four people."
She snorted. "They tend to do that when I tell them to bring anything. It's fucking wasteful." She took her cigarette between her fingers and held out a hand. "Can you hand me a cup of coffee?"
"You're not crippled, are you? Get it yourself."
I heard the maid gasp while Angel merely laughed. "You're such an ass."
"I'm not the one who can't be bothered to dry my own hair."
Snickering, she got to her feet and took a cup of coffee from the table, gifting me a sarcastic smile as she plopped down on the couch across from me. With a wave of her finger, the maid bowed her head and left the room without a word, silently closing the door behind her.
"Seriously?"
She arched a brow, blowing at her cup. "What?"
"I can't believe I was ever attracted to you," I found myself saying.
She tilted her head, raking her eyes over me in that way that made me feel inferior. "You say that as if you no longer are."
I scoffed. "You're gorgeous and all but you need a serious attitude adjustment."
"I'm a bitch, you mean."
"I was being polite, but yeah."
She chuckled. "That girl forgot her place. I was only showing her the way back."
"Her place? God, you people just think so highly of yourselves, don't you?"
She rolled her eyes, shifting to lay her legs along the length of the couch. "I know it seems cruel to you, seeing as you probably grew up in a loving home and had a wonderful childhood, but I've dealt with having strangers surrounding me all my life and I learned for the worst not to let them be a part of my life." She paused, taking a sip of coffee along with a drag from her cigarette. "If I cared about them, I would have spent my entire life grieving every time they left me. Sympathy is nonexistent in this household and with good reason."
I pursed my lips, considering her words. It must have been confusing, being surrounded by people who would do anything for her but at the same time weren't allowed to get too close to her.
"What do you mean 'for the worst'?" I asked.
She sighed, flicking the ash off her cigarettee carelessly to the floor. "I was a sickly child so I needed to have round the clock care by a nurse. It was inevitable for a child to get attached to the face she saw every time she woke up and before she went to sleep. When her services were no longer needed, I grieved for her as if she had died." She paused to take a sip of coffee. "I guess in some way, she did. To me, that is."
Melancholia filled her ever vacant eyes and I was once again stuck trying to figure her out. She was always doing this, changing from one person to another. One minute she's this cold hearted bitch and then a minute later she'll be so genuine and tender that I'd almost forget how cruel she can be. It was messing with me.
I sighed, deciding it was too early and I was far too hungry to engross myself with the mysteries of Angel Lastor.
I delved into the meal that could least have been whipped up by a professional chef and I had no doubt that was the case. On my third forkful of the creamy pancake, I halted, looking at her and seeing her staring at her cup, a thousand yard stare fixed on her eyes.
"Aren't you going to eat?" I asked.
She didn't answer. As if she hadn't heard me at all. She just went on staring at her cup of coffee as if it was the most mesmerizing sight she's seen.
I nudged her feet and she snapped out of it, straightening. I caught a flash of something in her eyes but before I could grasp it, she blinked it away, her empty stare settling on me.
"What?"
I frowned, looking at her intently, trying to see what was happening in her goddamn head in a desperate attempt to catch up but ever since I met this girl, it seemed like she was always a mile ahead of me.
She looked away and I shook my head as if it could get my thoughts in order but that was impossible in her presence.
"You should eat, Angel."
"I'm not hungry."
I pursed my lips, holding myself back from saying or doing something that would have her closing up on me again. It was becoming hard to keep treading the line that she had put me in.
Her vague words from last night came to me. They did nothing but mess with my head, filling me with more questions and pushing me in the dark even further. Every time she spoke, it almost seemed like she was talking about something else and even if I tried asking, I knew she'd just flat out and slam the door on me.
By god, this girl had me losing my grip on my sanity. I was sure I'd be buried along with her when she had that awful episode that they called a bad trip. It happened in the blink of an eye. One second she was screaming and slapping the shit out of me, the next, she was on the ground, bleeding and shaking and all I could do was stare at her as the drug consumed her.
I closed my eyes, trying to cast away the image of her lying on the back of that pickup truck, vomiting blood while struggling to breathe. I genuinely believed she was going to die. Right then and there. Because of me. And the awful thought that I was the reason behind it had me following her around all night out of sheer guilt.
"Why do you this to yourself?" I asked before I could hold my tongue.
I lifted my head, looking at her. She was guarded. Afraid of being seen. In the beginning, it made curious. Now, I hated it.
"I can't help it," was her stupid response.
"Can't or won't?"
I didn't care that I was overstepping the line again. I didn't care that I had no right to go there. It seemed like everyone around her tolerated her whims, even Jude to some degree.
She didn't need that. She needed the goddamn reality shoved in her face, and the reality of it all was that she was going to die if she kept this up. What made it worse was she knew. She just didn't care. Or so she claimed.
"Don't start with this shit again. I don't fucking need it right now," she spat before getting up and going to the bed.
I sighed, wiping a hand over my face as my frustration grew by the second. I followed her, filling up a plate and sitting by her side. I took a forkful of pancake and held it up for her but like a stubborn brat, she turned her head away.
"It's my day off and I have nothing better to do. I'll sit here all day if I have to." I put the fork by her lips and she stubbornly pursed them, glaring at me. "Come on. One bite won't hurt."
"It will," she hissed.
I frowned, catching the movement of her arm as she clutched her stomach. I suddenly remembered the tests I had accompanied her to. One of the results showed an acute case of gastroparesis and peptic ulcer.
"I'll prescribe you some acid-blocking medicine for that later," I said. "But you need to eat first."
She scoffed. "I wasn't aware I had appointed you as my doctor."
"Just eat before it gets worse. Your stomach is going to perforate and it will lead to chemical peritonitis, and other serious health issues. Do you want to be rushed to the emergency room? Because that's going to happen sooner or later if you don't put food in your stomach."
With a glare, she relented and parted her lips. I all but shoved the fork in her mouth.
"You're an asshole," she spat before taking a sip of coffee.
I took the cup away and she looked like she was about to attack me. "Coffee is going to worsen it."
"What the hell is your goddamn problem?"
"I don't have a problem. You do," I spat back. "You need to be more mindful of your health, Angel. The common causes of peptic ulcer are alcohol consumption and smoking. Both of which you do on a daily basis, heavily too might I add. It needs to stop before your body stops for you."
She scoffed, letting out a mocking laugh. I shoved a sausage down her throat and covered her mouth with my palm.
"Chew and swallow."
She yanked at my arm but I merely shifted to get a better hold of her. She started struggling and I pinned her against the headboard, my thighs straddling her. She can choke on it as long as it went down her stomach for all I care.
"Just swallow it down, Angel," I said, wincing when she dug her nails into the skin of my forearm. "Swallow."
When she swallowed the food down, I carefully extracted my hand off her mouth. She didn't miss a beat and hit me where she could reach.
"You piece of shit! Who the fuck do you think you are? I am not a child! Do that again and I'll fu-"
I shoved a piece of bacon in her mouth and covered it with my palm. She screamed into my hand, the sound muffled.
"If you'd just eat, I wouldn't have to force feed you. Now, chew and swallow."
She kicked at my hip but the force was barely enough to have me flinching. She was glaring at me, the anger in her silver eyes burning. I didn't give a damn.
When she swallowed, I pulled away my palm.
"Fuck you," she hissed, slapping me.
I was about to fire back a string of curses but I stilled when I saw a hint of blood on her lower lip.
"Shit, I'm sorry."
I reached for her lip and wiped away the blood, inspecting it for a moment to make sure I hadn't split it open. Jude would rip my scalp off if I even so much as grazed her skin.
"The hell are you doing?" she bit out through clenched teeth.
I froze, my hand on her chin, my thumb on her lip, my eyes meeting hers. She was pissed off. That much was obvious.
She raked her eyes over me and I was aware that we were in an extremely compromising position.
"I... I was just-"
I didn't get to finish. She yanked the front of my shirt, pulling me down to level with her and I hastily braced my arms against the headboard to keep myself from crushing her. Her raging eyes pierced me, casting a spell and leaving me motionless. For a moment, I just stared at her, my throat running dry as an intangible pull drew me into the labyrinth that was Angel Lastor.
I was going stupid again. It's become an annoying phenomenon whenever I was in this girl's presence. I didn't know how she was doing it, or why I was letting it happen. I'd never been this kind of shallow person who could be so easily influenced, but it was becoming clear to me that it was an innate thing to submit to her. No matter how much I tried to resist.
"You want me, don't you?" she whispered, taunting me.
I lost the ability to speak and when she daringly put her dainty fingers on me, gripping my cock through the cotton fabric of my sweats, I lost the ability to breathe. For god sakes, I was trembling, my hands curling into fits around the cushioned material of the headboard as I held myself up on shaky limbs.
She tightened her grip. I groaned.
She licked her lips, the emptiness in her silver eyes being replaced with something dark. Mischievous. Dangerous. Seductive.
Slowly, she began stroking me. I let out a shaky breath as I felt my blood surge through my groin, making me painfully hard. She pulled down the waistbands of my sweats, her cold hand making contact with my burning hot skin. I winced and screwed my eyes shut, her touch becoming painful. A low growl rumbled at the back of my throat when I felt her lips on my neck, the sound almost foreign. Raw.
Fuck. I'm turning into a pubscent boy.
"You like fucking my fist, sweetheart?" she whispered, her voice dripping with maddening lust as she quickened her strokes and choked my cock with her fist. "You do. You love it."
I was going to lose my mind. I should have stayed away from her the way every fucking person has been saying. She was going to be the death of me. Jude Lastor will be the one burying my dead body.
Jude fucking Lastor. A man I've known for nearly a decade. My best friend. Her brother who trusted me with her because he foolishly believed I could fight Angel Lastor's charm and wickedness. That man was going to kill me if he saw my cock in his little sister's hand.
I drew back at the thought of him, literally fearing for my life. But this girl, this fucking girl, was trying to kill me as she pushed me on my back and gripped my cock with both hands. And then her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip of my cock. I cursed loudly.
Without letting me breathe, she took me in her mouth, taking in every inch until I felt the back of her throat, keeping her eyes on mine. What I saw in those shadowy grey eyes had me losing my senses. Common sense just skipping away as I stared at a vixen, a minx, a sexy, beautiful, and stunning woman who had me at her mercy with the tip of her tongue.
Her lids were half way closed, shrouding her silver eyes as they glinted with lust, mischief, and all things forbidden. The soft sound of pleasure that she made had my cock twitching. I groaned as she drew back, my cock popping out of her mouth.
"Come. I know you want to," she urged, licking the moisture from the tip of my cock and moaning. "Imagine my pretty little cunt wrapped around your beautiful cock, Frederick. Imagine me clenched around you. Milking you dry while you're fucking me with your cock so hard I'll scream. Fucking me from behind. Against the wall. Imagine filling me with all you have. Fucking me like I'm yours. Fucking me like I'm your last fuck on earth," she went on, emasculating me with sheer words and a hand.
All I could do was hold on for dear life.
"Too bad you can't have me," she hissed and pulled away in every sense of it.
I felt my sanity tear apart.
When I looked at her, my jaw ticked at the sight of her mocking smirk. I snapped out of the lustful spell she had casted upon me and hid my shame with the pathetic cotton sweats.
"You fucking bitch."
She made a move to get off the bed but I grabbed her leg and dragged her down, pinning her, not caring that the plate flipped over and stained what was probably expensive Egyptian cotton.
"I am not a toy you can play around with, Angel," I bit out through gritted teeth, gripping her wrists but she merely looked at me as if I amused her.
It pissed me off even more.
"You're all alike," she said, her voice holding nothing just as her eyes. "You only want one thing from me and when you've had it, you keep coming back for more. It's pathetic."
I drew back, pissed off not nearly covering what I felt. I was angry, fuming, raging. On the verge of losing my sanity.
"You think I'm dealing with all your crap because I want to have sex with you?" I scoffed. "I don't know whether your ego is so massive that you assume every man you encounter just falls for you or if your self-esteem is so low that you couldn't possibly fathom a person could care about you without having a hidden agenda."
She chuckled and caught me off guard when she flipped us over, pushing me on my back as she straddled my waist. My nostrils flared when she moved her hips in a languid motion, grinding against me. I wanted to strangle the bitch.
"You're going to deny an obvious fact?" she said, mocking me.
"I'm a man, Angel. It's an inherent response when a woman puts my cock in her mouth. That doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you."
"If you don't want to fuck me then why the hell are you still here?" she challenged.
Good question. A really great one actually.
I could go on saying that I felt guilty for last night, or that no one in the right mind would leave this girl fn her own accord. But really, I didn't know why I was sticking around.
"Because I care about you, Angel," I said, failing to think before speaking.
As I looked at her, seeing her scowl as if my words angered her, I felt it. Her walls, coming back up, standing firm and prominent. Shielding her. It was almost instantaneous. The light in her eyes faded and became empty while her beautiful face offered not one hint of emotion.
'You can't let her get in your head, Thirdy,' Jude's words of warning came to mind.
Too bad because she's been inside my head ever since I met her. Perhaps even before then.
"You actually think I believe that?" she said, her voice cold.
I shook my head, letting go of my hold on her wrists and sitting up. She tried to move away but I held her still, reaching a hand to cup her face and forcing her to look at me. I just looked at her, seeing another side of her, the side that made me wonder what she was hiding and why. As the seconds passed, her features registered in my head, not just her obvious beauty but the exhaustion.
Her eyes had dark circles looming around them, her lids hooded as if she was fighting to keep them open while her skin was deathly pale and I only just noticed how cold her body was. When I met her eyes again, I still didn't see anything. They were just empty, but I knew she was filled with so much of... something.
Angel Lastor was anything but empty.
"Stop trying to see everything," she said, turning her head away. "You're going to get hurt if you don't stop."
My frown deepened at her words, so goddamn vague this girl was.
"What are you hiding?"
Her body tensed as if my question had hit something, probably her walls. Against better reasoning, I dug deeper.
"Why were you crying last night?"
I saw it, a hint of an emotion. It was a mere flash, but I caught it. I saw fear. And then I remembered the maid's words, words that only led to more questions.
"Why don't you sleep?"
She was pressing her mouth shut, as if to prevent her words from coming out.
"Why do you have scars on your body? Why don't you eat? Why do you hate yourself? Why do you want to die so much?"
I heard her whimper and I halted my questions. I broke it. The walls. But I was still far from seeing her, all of her. The real her that she hid behind this character.
I moved my hand, pushing her hair away and reaching for the side of her face. Her lips parted and she took in a shuddering breath while her eyes, those silver eyes, began to fill with pain as if my touch had hurt her.
"Why are you in pain, Angel?" I whispered, my thumb brushing away one lone tear that fell from the corner of her eye.
"Please... stop," she said, practically begging.
Her voice sounded so broken and I knew this was real. She wasn't just faking it to get me to back off. You can't fake this kind of pain.
She screwed her eyes shut, laying on her side as she wrapped her arms around herself. She didn't make a sound. She didn't move a muscle. She just laid there, fighting the tears that forced their way out of her eyes.
"You're hurting me. Please, stop," she whispered, her voice so quiet, so small, but it was filled with so much pain.
It broke me. Ripped me apart. Had me pulling her into my arms. Embracing her. Telling her I was here. That she was going to be okay. But she shook her head. Telling me to stay away. That I would only get hurt.
I didn't care. I held her and without really thinking, I kissed her cheeks as her tears stained them. After awhile, her tears stopped but I could tell the pain didn't.
"Tell me what it was like," she suddenly said, her cheek pressed against my chest. "Your childhood. Was it wonderful?"
I thought for a moment, mindlessly brushing her hair with my fingers. "My Dad's Jewish and my Mom's Catholic so both of their families were against the relationship," I began. "When they got married, their parents cut off all communication. Till now, we don't have much contact with either side, except for my Mom's sister."
"That's fucked up," she mumbled.
"Yeah, but I didn't really notice until I was older. My parents were good at that, keeping the bad stuff away. My Dad was still in law school when they got married so my Mom became the breadwinner of our family. She had to get two jobs while my Dad worked the nights as a security guard at a museum. Sometimes, it was really rough and we'd get our electricity cut off but it was always wonderful."
I paused, smiling at the distant memory.
"My Mom would bake all sorts of things on her day off and my Dad would take me with him to the museum on the weekends, and he'd spend all night teaching me about dinosaurs. No matter how hard it got, my parents always put me first and even though they could barely afford it, they sent me to private school. I didn't really know we were poor until my classmates started making fun of me for having second-hand books and patched up clothes."
"I thought you were rich. You live on a beach for crissake."
I smiled. "Ah. So you did remember me when your mother introduced us."
"I didn't, but I remember going to your parents' backyard wedding. I think I met your girlfriend. Blonde. Cute dimples. Perky personality. She said she was with the groom's son."
"Jennifer?"
"I guess. I was hitting on her while waiting in line for the bathroom."
I chuckled. "Yeah, I think she mentioned something about a weird girl with pink hair trying to get her to join a threesome or something. Should have figured it was you."
"I remember she tried to preach to me about smoking and all that cancer bullshit but she seemed nice. What happened to her?"
"Medical school happened. She was here. I was there. Didn't work out."
"That sucks."
Our faces were inches apart and I could feel myself going stupid again.
Sighing, I suddenly found myself wishing for things that I shouldn't be wishing for because it wasn't right. This wasn't right.
"I should go," I whispered.
"I won't stop you."
"Are you okay now though?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"That sucks."
When I smiled, I felt her press her lips to mine. My eyes fell shut and despite knowing how wrong it was, I kissed her back, tasting the nicotine and coffee in her tongue. Inhaling deeply, I let myself fall just a little for her. Just far enough that I would still be able to get out of the grave I was digging for myself as the kiss grew heavy with our respective restraints becoming undone. I pulled away first because I knew if we went on for any longer, I wouldn't be able to stop.
"Stay until I fall asleep?" she murmured.
I nodded. "Okay."
I pulled her closer and buried my nose in her hair, her strawberry scented shampoo making me smile for some reason.
* * * *
I was woken up by the same girl who had brought me breakfast, only now it was lunch. I realized I was alone again. When I asked where Angel was, this time, the girl didn't say Miss Lastor didn't leave the room. That Miss Lastor was probably hiding or resting. That she'll come back.
"Miss Lastor left."
"Did she say where she went?"
She shook her head, a look of sympathy appearing in her eyes as if she felt sorry that I had been abandoned. "Miss Allen came."
I frowned. "Who?" She bit her lip, obviously not wanting to share more information. "At least tell me she's okay. That whoever this Miss Allen is won't put her at risk."
She smiled but it seemed forced. "Miss Allen is her best friend. She comes when Miss Lastor is bored."
I frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"I can't speak more. I'm sorry." I sighed, deciding not to force it. "You may come down when you're ready. Mr. Manning is waiting outside. He'll drive you anywhere. Just tell him where you want to go."
I nodded, not really knowing what else to say. She left after that and I was stuck in a large empty room, alone. I went to the bathroom to take a much needed shower and what I saw inside had me stopping in my tracks.
The bathroom was large, grandiose. Golden faucets, sleek granite marbles, and yet another chandelier. The whole hurrah. But that wasn't what had me freezing.
It was the empty bottles of liquor, the cigarette butts littered on the floor, the scattered droplets of blood, and a fucking syringe. But that wasn't it just yet. The last item had me paling as my gaze focused on it as it laid innocently on the counter.
As if a gun could never hurt you.
'Life isn't worth living if it's filled with pain and suffering,' her words came to mind.
My God. What sort of pain could have someone want to escape their life so much?