I snorted the line in one sharp inhale, the white powder entering my nostrils, filling my already fucked up head.
I leaned back against the couch as I sat on the floor, facing the large bed where three bodies were tangled together in a fit of forbidden pleasure as one man knelt behind Andrea, fucking her cunt with his cock while she fucked the man lying underneath her with her mouth as a fat lady howled from the record player, her voice a sharp soprano as she sang her sorrows in barely intelligible Italian.
I never liked operas.
The three bodies writhed, crying out in pleasure and cursing. While I sat in one corner in this dark room, motionless, wanting to escape from the pain that consumed every inch of me inside out.
I wanted to shoot myself.
I actually did.
I took a shot of vodka and winced.
Life has lost its appeal to me before I even reached puberty. Drugs and alcohol could only go so far. They always wore off and I was getting tired of chasing a high that always crashed. I wanted something permanent. The real goddamn thing. Death.
I screwed my eyes shut, trying to cast away the awful thoughts my demons were feeding me, taking advantage of my weak state.
I was losing it. My grip. My will. My goddamn mind.
When I had woken up earlier, enveloped in the arms of the man who had effortlessly broken me down, I genuinely wanted to die.
It just struck me, blindsided me, and I couldn't shake it off as I stared at his unconscious state, envying him as he slept peacefully. Not one demon lurking in his mind. Not an ounce of pain clawing at his insides. I wanted it. I longed for it.
So I snuck into my father's office, took his revolver, and got drunk enough to muster up the courage to press the barrel of the gun against my temple as I stood in front of the mirror, finding irony in the fact that the last sight I'd see before I finally escaped my hell was the girl I hated more than anything in the world.
I shot it. I pulled the trigger. Pulled it again and again. And again. But I didn't die.
The damn thing didn't have bullets.
Fuck me, right?
And then I thought about my brother. He'd probably kill himself too if he had to bury me six feet under the ground in the middle of next week. And I fell into this downwards spiral filled with regret, anxiety, anger, and hatred that not even a shot of heroine could save me from.
I had to get out. I had to leave. I needed to escape.
Now here I was, drunk and high off my fucking mind. Pondering on death while watching three people fuck each other in front of me. This shit is golden.
"Jelly Bean!" I heard my best friend's voice call out to me.
I snapped out of it and set my eyes on her, doing my damndest to focus. She staggered towards me, bare ass naked and giggling, looking as drunk and high as I was but not as miserable. I glanced at the two men she had abandoned. They were sucking each other's dicks while laying on their sides.
"Babe, I'm tapping out. I've cum three times. You need to get in there. Enzo's on a roll tonight."
I shook my head, lighting up a cigarette. I didn't come here to fuck. I came here to have snow shoved up my nose for free, not a dick up my cunt.
I watched her as she bent over the coffee table and snorted a line. She was grinning, her eyes alight with a glaze of euphoria. I missed that, how cocaine used to make me feel invincible. Safe. Relieved. Excited. Now, all it did was make me numb and it didn't even last for long these days.
"What's the best way to die, Dee?" I asked.
She held up a finger as she took a shot, slamming the glass down on the table with a wince.
"Best way to die," she mumbled, pondering with her eyes on the ceiling. "Quick and painless."
"How?"
She pondered again, her thought process slowed down by the shit in her system. "A bullet to the head?"
I let out a hysterical laugh at the irony of it. I laughed till I couldn't breathe. I laughed till it hurt. I laughed till I was a sobbing mess.
The Gods were fucking with me.
She crawled towards me, lopping her arm through mine and resting her head on my shoulder. We watched one of the two men fuck the other in the ass while he was tied to the bed. And I was crying like a drunken fool. A high, drunk, and pathetic fool.
"I love you, you know that right?" she said once I sobered up.
"I do." I untangled myself from her and grabbed the bottle of vodka. "Leave me alone."
"Okay."
She got up and walked towards the bed, sneaking a glance at me. I offered her a smirk as I took a swig from the bottle. And then she went on for fourth round. And I emptied the bottle by the time she came for the fourth time.
* * *
It was six in the morning and I had nowhere to go.
They were passed out in bed after fucking all night when I left. I was drunk. My nose was bleeding. I didn't have a ride. I didn't know what was happening. And I only had two dollars in my pocket.
I bought a pack of cigarettes and sat on the curb, dialing the number of the only person who'd never get sick of loving someone as fucked up as me and I was selfish enough to let him.
He answered on the fifth ring.
"Lastor," Jude's groggy voice came from the other end.
I pursed my lips, my eyes screwing shut as I tried not to make a sound.
"Angel?" he whispered.
I cried, gripping the phone with both hands.
"Where are you?"
I couldn't get a word out.
"Please, Gel, say something," he pleaded, his voice hush.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I cried, not knowing what else to say.
I heard him let out a strangled breath. "We're okay. Tell me where you are, little Angel. I'll come and get you," he said, his voice trembling.
"I don't know."
"Are you still in New York? Are you at home? Is Father home?"
"I don't know," I sobbed.
I didn't know where I was. I didn't know how I got here. I remembered walking around the city. I was looking for something but I'd forgotten what it was. And then I got on a bus. I couldn't remember why I'd gotten on it. I only got out when the driver made a stop at a bus station and told me we reached the last stop. I didn't know where I had wanted to go so I just started walking. Walking till I couldn't anymore. Walking till I fell on the ground. And then I stayed on the ground till some old man stopped his truck and helped me up.
"Please tell me you didn't hurt yourself."
"I'm tired. I'm so tired. Jude, I'm scared. I'm so scared," I sobbed, my tears blurring my sight as I clung to the phone.
"We're okay. I'm here. I'll find you. I just need to know where you are. Look around. What do you see?" I wiped my eyes, sniffling. I looked around me and told him what I saw. "Okay. Do you see any people around? Anyone?"
I glanced back at the gas station and saw the old man manning the cash register, watching me. "Dean. I see Dean."
He let out a breath. "Who's Dean?"
"He helped me. He cleaned the blood. He gave me his phone. He said to call anyone."
"Blood? Sweetheart, why would there be blood?" he said through gritted teeth.
"Jude, come here. Please."
"I will. I will. Can you get Dean for me? I want to talk to him."
I nodded and dropped the phone, jogging back inside the store.
"Jude wants to talk to you," I told Dean.
He nodded, exiting the counter and following me outside. He picked up the phone with a grunt. I stood beside him as he talked to my brother, telling him I was in some small town in Pennsylvania called Bainbridge.
Afterwards, Dean told me to get inside. He gave me his lunch. A chicken sandwich. I tried to eat but it hurt. He made me drink milk instead but I ended up vomiting. I told him I was sorry and he said it was okay.
A while later, a girl came. She had his eyes. Kind. She said her name was Charlotte. She promised she won't hurt me. She drove us to their house then.
I didn't know what was happening. My head was fuzzy and I couldn't focus. I wanted to sleep. I was so tired. But they kept talking. Making me do things. Making me take a bath. Making me eat. Making me change into clothes that were too big.
I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to go home.
I lost track of time. I just sat on the couch while Charlotte and Dean kept looking at me, asking me things. I didn't want to talk but they wouldn't go away.
I closed my eyes, trying not to fall asleep. I wanted to. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not here.
As I sat there, I kept trying to remember but only flashes were coming back.
I had stood on a balustrade. I was going to jump. I was high enough. It would have just been an accident. People would have thought I just fell. That I slipped. That I bent too low.
I was going to jump.
But Jude. Jude was going to kill himself too if I did. I knew. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't keep drinking. I couldn't keep doing snow. I couldn't breathe anymore. I got scared. They were asleep. They didn't care.
Everything was a blur after that and next thing I knew, Jude was here. I don't know why but when I saw him standing there, looking like he had been running a marathon, I cried so hard I couldn't breathe.
"Ssshh... we're okay. We're okay," he soothed as he rubbed my back while I clung to him.
"Don't die. Promise me," I cried.
"Breathe, little Angel. Just breathe. I'm here."
I breathed. I breathed for him. I'm only alive because of him. I can't die if he dies too.
* * *
Jude
She wasn't making a sound anymore. Her breathing was soft and leveled. When I pulled away, her eyes were closed, her lids dark and a hint of blood tainted her upper lip. I tried not to see it. I pretended not to see her this way. But she was there. Resembling death itself.
I shut it off. I needed to keep my shit together.
I slowly settled her on the patched up couch, brushing her purple hair off her face. Her lips were chapped and pale while her body trembled lightly as if she was cold. I shrugged off my jacket, putting it over her and placing a light kiss on her forehead.
"Reste forte, petite Ange." (Stay strong, little Angel) I whispered as if she could hear me.
I took a steadying breath before straightening and turning to face the two strangers who practically saved my sister's life. They were staring at me with a weird look on their faces and I bet this kind of thing wasn't a daily occurrence in their humble town.
It was to me. Sometimes worse. This was one of the worsts. Black outs were the worst.
I held out my hand for the old man that I had decided I was going to be indebted to till he saw fit. If it weren't for him, she could have been.... No. Stop.
He took my hand, shaking it firmly. "You're Jude then? Her brother?"
I nodded, realizing I hadn't introduced myself and just barged into their home uninvited after confirming her identity. Which was easy, all I had to ask was, 'Have you seen a girl with purple hair?' I had asked that question at least twenty times while driving around this small town the moment the helicopter landed. Most just looked at me as if I was insane and shook their heads. I thanked the heavens he said yes and that she was inside.
"She kept saying your name. She wouldn't say anything else. Just Jude," he said, sparing her a sympathetic glance that if she saw it, I knew she would have cursed him.
I breathed in, hating the fact that my sister had lost her way and I wasn't there. Why the fuck did I not go after her while she was still at home?
I knew who she was with all night. I knew where she had been all night. All day. Driving my goddamn car around the place while I just stared at the red blinking dot that tracked down the movements of my car. I had installed tracking devices on all my cars. Even hers. She probably didn't know. She'd curse me if she did.
"Thank you. You don't know how grateful I am for this," I said, my voice leveled, not letting my emotions get the best of me.
"When I saw her on the side of the road, crying and bleeding, I thought I was going to have a heart attack," he old man said, his face grim.
I did not want that image in my head but it was there already. I casted it away immediately.
"Did she eat?" I asked, looking down at her, seeing her small form curled on the couch, dressed in ragged clothing.
"We tried to make her eat but she wouldn't."
I sighed, shaking my head. Sometimes, I was tempted to just chain her down to keep her from hurting herself even more but she would never forgive me. I couldn't live with that.
"Would you like some coffee?" the girl beside the old man offered.
I looked at her for a moment. I let my eyes take her in, to remember her so I wouldn't forget the two people I owed my sister's life for. I briefly wondered if I should ask them for a price in exchange for their kindness but I knew it would just be rude so I decided against it.
"Thank you, but I think we should go now."
I stooped low, tucking my arms underneath her and lifting her up. She might as well have been a feather at how light she was.
She made a sound, a soft whimper. I shushed her, kissing the top of her head.
"Ça va. C'est juste Jude." (It's okay. It's just Jude) I assured her in a gentle voice.
She sighed, her body relaxing as she nuzzled closer to me. I turned to look at them and I could see the sympathy, the pity, directed at her. I hated it the way she would have. She didn't deserve pity. She deserved better than pity. She was strong. I knew she was.
I was grateful they didn't ask any questions. They just led me to the door and helped me tuck her in the passenger seat of the SUV. When I looked at them for the last time, at their rickety old house, at their old and rusted cars, I couldn't help but say it.
"I'm indebted to you. Both of you. Anything you need, call me. Anything at all," I said gravely, taking out a business card that the girl reluctantly accepted.
But like I expected, the old man shook his head. "We don't need your money," he said firmly.
"It doesn't have to be money," I said, although I wouldn't mind if it was. "This girl is worth more than that and I owe you for taking care of her."
He pursed his lips, his eyes going over to my sister before coming back to me. I already knew what was coming. "Who is she?"
I sighed, wanting to lie but I owed them the truth. "Angel… Lastor," I said, wondering if they knew the last name.
"Like the hospital? LMC?" his daughter said.
"Ain't that the place you work at, Lotty?"
I eyed the girl as she nodded. "What's your name again?"
"Charlotte Watkins. I'm a nurse," she said, looking at me intently. She gasped, probably taking a full grasp of my identity. "Jude. As in Jude Lastor." Her gaze dropped to look at the card I had given her before going to Angel. "That means she's…"
I forced a smile. "Yes."
"Oh my god."
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak of this. To anyone. I don't want more harm to come to her."
She nodded vigorously. "Of course, Sir. We understand."
I nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you. Again, anything you need. Don't hesitate to call me."
I got in the car after that, heading towards the safe house that our family owned in the city. I took my phone out, dialing my aide as I drove.
"Sir," Luis greeted.
"Find me the file of an employee named Charlotte Watkins. Nurse. Pennsylvania branch. Black hair. Brown eyes. Around 5 foot 3. Mid-thirties. Her father's name is Dean. Check her personal background. Debts. Loans. Mortgage. Pay off everything. Give her a raise. Twenty percent." I glanced at Angel for a moment. "Have Mr. Jenkins assign an agent on her for surveillance."
"Yes, Mr. Lastor."
"That would be all," I said and he cut the call.
I sighed, leaning back, letting myself relax at the thought that Angel was going to be okay. For now.
* * *
Angel
Something kept moving me, shaking me, saying my name. I turned, moving away from it.
"Wake up, little Angel. You need to eat," a gentle voice said.
I sprung up, my eyes wide as I took in my unfamiliar surroundings. I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped, my back pressing against a hard surface. The adrenaline sent my anxiety into overdrive and drowning me with so much chaos it left me breathless.
"Take it one at a time, Gel."
Slowly, I took deep breaths. Forcing them into my useless lungs. I focused my eyes, looking for anything to keep me grounded. I saw a vase. A chair. A towel. A carpet. A painting. Jude sitting beside me.
Eventually, the chaos subsided and I wasn't drowning anymore, and I had memorized everything inside the room down to the layout.
I looked up at Jude, forcing my heavy lids to stay open. Jude. Jude was here. What the fuck is he doing here?
I closed my eyes, trying to get my head together. It hurt. My head hurt. I couldn't think straight. Thinking hurt.
"What happened?" I asked, clutching my head as sharp needles pierced my skull. "Where are we?"
"Pennsylvania."
I frowned, looking up at him. "What? How?"
His brows creased as he looked at me intently. "What do you remember?"
I closed my eyes again, trying to dig deep, trying to remember but all that came to me were mere flashes. I remembered waking up with Rick. I remembered going to Father's office. I remembered taking his gun. I remembered trying to die all night. And then everything just became a blur of images.
"You blacked out," Jude stated with a sigh.
I cursed and gripped my hair, taking fistfuls of it as the pain in my head became unbearable.
"Here."
He held out his palm with two pills on it and a glass of water. I took it without hesitation and chugged the water, relishing in the feel of it as it glided along the dryness of my throat. It was bliss.
"More," I said, holding up the glass.
He filled it to the brim and I downed it in seconds, letting out a satisfied breath.
"Eat."
He placed a tray on my lap. I looked at the bowl of soup, lifting the spoon and watching the creamy liquid droop.
"Eat, Gel. You don't have to finish it. Just enough to fill your stomach."
I sighed and obliged, too tired to argue. A heavy silence settled between us. He just watched me put one spoonful after another in my mouth until I couldn't put more. I tried to keep it down but it kept coming back up and I inevitably threw up all over myself.
I couldn't find it in me to feel ashamed. I couldn't feel anything at all but for some reason, I was crying.
Jude didn't say a word. He just wiped off the vomit and carried me to the bathroom. He drew me a bath and helped me take my clothes off before settling me inside the tub. He started washing my hair, not uttering a word while I sat there, pretending not to feel his tears drop against my skin.
I wanted to tell him to get out. To leave me alone. To stay away from me. To give up already. But I couldn't even look at him. Couldn't bear seeing how much pain I was causing him.
After he was done, he got out, carrying a new change of clothes with him when he came back. He left me to get dressed.
I turned everything off. It was better not to feel anything. Better not to think. Better this way.
When I walked out, he was standing by the window with his back to me. It was dark out and I remembered him saying we were in Pennsylvania. The anxiety of my lost memories made my insides stiff and churn.
"This has to stop, Gel," he said without turning to face me. "It's killing me as much as it's killing you."
I didn't say anything and laid back down on the newly made bed, not a hint of vomit on the clean sheets.
"We're okay,' I murmured, pursing my lips when I heard him cry in response. "We're okay."