Page 45 of Manacled Hearts

Whether I like it or not, we have to go back. There’s no other choice. No matter how much it will hurt to return to the place that took so much away from me—I must.

That thought brings another wave of nausea, and only when the pain becomes too much do I realize I’m digging my nails so hard in my skin, I’m piercing it.

I just need a little help. Just this once. A little help to quiet the rush of dread, to find a happy place, to escape, even if just for a few hours, or minutes. Only once, so after I can come back to the real world ready to tackle it, to make a plan that gives my sister the best life, maybe build one for myself too. A little escape, that’s all I need.

I wasn’t dancing with that guy last night by pure chance. I chose him because I caught him wiping a certain white powder off his nose and knew he could help. He didn’t have what I’m looking for, but told me about someone who sells all sorts of substances and where to go to find him. I saved the information on my phone. It would be so easy. It will be. I have no idea how much it costs, but there’s enough on Finnigan’s card to take out at an ATM along the way. Yeah… Finnigan’s card.

I found out that tidbit of information in the bar last night. Because it was either Maddox or Morrigan who used it for me, I didn’t pay attention to the name written in gold. I just assumed it belonged to Maddox and didn’t bother to look. When I tapped it on the card machine, the name caught my eyes and I swear I bought more alcohol just to spite the man.

Buying something harder than alcohol to quench this need is fitting, after all… he’s the one who turned me into this. With his empty promise of saving me before something happened to me. Him who makes me think I could feel alive. Who rejects the possibility of us.

“Oh my god, what am I doing?”

My sister’s laugh sounds farther away on the other side of this door, and it wakes me up from this self-destructive trance.

I can’t do this to myself, chase the need for this high, I have to be strong for her. If not for me, definitely for her.

I peel myself off the floor and jump straight into the shower, washing off the stickiness from my skin, the stench of alcohol, and hopefully this disgusting craving with it, too.

* * *

For two hours I sat in an armchair listening to or watching Maya smile, laugh, and overall, fully enjoy her time with Mamaw June. Two hours of stories, of June teaching her how to beat eggs, how to mix in flour so it doesn’t clump, two hours of twitching. On my part. My legs have been so jittery, I had to gather them both under me on the seat, because both my sister and Mamaw June started looking at me a little funny.

I thought staying here with them would help take my mind off of things. But it did nothing. I’m still a failure. The man with the lisp and his touch on me still haunt. And Finnigan’s blue eyes are still here… rejection shining like a lighthouse in the recesses of my mind.

And after the sun went down, night began to fall, and I was feeling even worse, I left. Not before I put Maya to bed and kissed her goodnight. Not before I told her just how much I love her. But before I told her more… like how I wish I didn’t fail her, that I didn’t bring us to this point where strangers are taking better care of her than I ever could, how I wished she wasn’t exposed to the ugly things she still doesn’t talk about.

I left before I spilled it all into a confession her little ears didn’t deserve to be burdened with. The buzzing in my ears and the sharp prickle in my veins got worse as I told Katya I was going for a walk. She was apprehensive, but I assured her I’ll stay close; I just needed to be alone and clear my head. She told me I have to take someone with me, otherwise Finnigan or Maddox are going to kill her, and I mumbled something that sounded like approval before walking out. It was hard to sneak by the security they have in this building, and I thought I was successful until I got downstairs. I lied through my teeth when the guy downstairs asked me if I was going out alone. I told him Maddox was waiting for me outside. He wanted to check himself, but I told him we’re in a rush and walked out before he could argue, and disappeared around the corner out of view.

My lies will probably bite me in the ass later, but I can’t worry about that now. It’s been about twenty minutes and no one has tried to find me, so I must be good. The ride I booked dropped me off a couple of streets away from my destination, since I thought it would be weird to show up right on the dealer’s doorstep. Now, I’m walking wherever the navigation app on my phone tells me to. It’s following the directions the guy from the bar gave me. I still don’t remember his name. I’m not even sure I asked, or if he even offered it to me. Did I tell him mine? Christ, last night was a mess.

However,… tonight will be an even bigger one.

I take another left out onto a main street, crossing toward a road that takes me further toward the edge of Queenscove. It doesn’t look quite as elegant as the main street. Not bad, just not as well maintained. There are a few bars dotted around, and what look like tourists walking about the street making a mess of themselves, clearly drunk on this Saturday night.

Maybe I should abandon this mission and take the safer way out. Alcohol will be safer. More controlled. Less, much less damaging.

Only, alcohol won’t take me to that place where happiness comes in waves of purity and filth. Where it hurts and exhilarates at the same time. Where I forget how to feel and just… exist. Not live—exist. I don’t want to live right now.

I turn onto a darker side street, a little quieter too, and the app says I’ll be there in one minute. My nerves quiver with anxiety as I near the destination, and I mentally go through each step of my plan to settle them. I already stopped at an ATM and took out enough money to be able to afford a motel for the night. Considering my last experience, I’ll probably wake up in a few hours. Though, if I dose wrong I might not wake up. It wouldn’t be much of a loss… not when Maya is so well taken care of.

“This is it,” I whisper to myself when the app signals I reached my destination.

I look around at the mundane-looking street like I was expecting a giant neon sign saying ‘Drugs Here’ with an arrow pointing at some guy. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary here. A few townhouses, a couple of shops that are closed now, a tattoo shop that still seems to have some people inside, and a bar.

“What the hell am I looking for?”

“Me.”

I whip around so fast, I stagger, and five feet away from me stands the guy from last night. At least I think it’s him. My memory’s a little hazy, but he looks familiar enough.

“You came,” he says when he sees I wasn’t going to initiate.

“Was I supposed to?” I’m confused.

“After last night’s conversation I had a feeling you would show up. You looked a little… impatient.”

Sounds about right. Though, his presence fills me with a different anxiety. It’s the reality check I needed, but it’s not sinking in the way it should, shadowed by the need inside my veins screaming over the recklessness of my predicament.

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