Page 14 of Edging Obsession

Fred brushes the hair off my shoulders. “That’s a good girl. Now unbutton and unzip my pants.”

Shaking, I use the tips of my fingers to undo his pants. He runs his hands over my face and lips. I’m disgusted by my situation. A hopelessness pokes its way in. I falter, trying to clear the fog smothering my concentration. Why am I doing this? It can’t be right. It isn’t right. An inner shadow fights for control. My body feels weighted, and I’m devoured by a dark loneliness.

I release Fred’s erection. Dampness sticks to his skin, making me gag. His balls smell like old Roquefort cheese. He whispers words of encouragement. The haunting shadow has me in its clutches. I close my eyes, my tongue dabs Fred’s small dick. He hisses. I imagine it’s a sucker, hollowing out my cheeks, and suck in and out. Move up and down. My mind acts like a sloth wading through peanut butter. The cruel intention of my shadow blocks out the noise. Soon, I feel spurts of liquid in my throat. Hands hold my head down and I don’t bother to struggle for air. I let the warmth of the fluid trickle down. Once I’m free I begin to cough and gag. Swallowing doesn’t help. Without warning, I vomit the contents of my stomach on his lap. A string of saliva and vomit hangs from my mouth.

“What the fuck?” Fred’s sitting in front of me, revulsion twists on his face. His lap covered in vomit.

My hand swipes across my mouth. “I’m sorry. I…”

His eyes narrow, and through gritted teeth, in a low menacing voice, he says, “Get out! You’re fired.”

I’m out of his office, slinging my bag over my shoulder. A black tornado swirls inside of me. I can’t breathe. My feet trip over each other. Hands run along the walls to stay upright. I use the stairs, stumbling until the doors crash open into fresh air. Home. I must get home.

In my apartment, I tear off my clothes to rid myself of Fred. The dirty day. My disgusting behavior. Bile teases at the back of my throat when I think about what I did. I yank on my hair, feet drifting into the bedroom, and my head whacks against the door. Fred’s words echo in my head. The image of his dick and his cum in my mouth are burned onto the backs of my eyelids. I fall onto the bed; a tornado of emotions abates as the shadow bleeds into every pore and crevice of my being. The heaviness of the morning, the loss of Miles and work, snap my eyes closed. Thinking hurts, so I reach and snag sleep.

One. Two. My eyes open to a dark apartment, but I remain curled in bed. I drag my phone next to me. For the first time since this morning, I check my phone messages, pass on responding to them and watch videos. My social media is flooded with pictures of me and Miles and hateful, stabbing words.What does he see in her? He can do so much better. Slut. Cunt. She should just kill herself and make the world happier. She probably takes it up the ass. Cum goblin.

I don’t cry or get angry. I let my shadow take care of things. In the bathroom, I snap my disposable shaver and remove the blade. Bare feet hit the inside of the bathtub as I lay down in it. I’m naked. It will be cleaner for my parents. My eyes set on the wall in front of me and I slice. There’s no pain. No words. Just images of my mom. Dad. Miles. My phantom shadow whispers, “It will be better soon.” I shut my eyes, shut down, and turn off the world.

8

Our tour is hectic from one city to the next. Fans hang around for hours after concerts, making it difficult to disappear into the bus or hotel. If we’re not practicing, we’re performing, and when that’s done, the guys are partying. A boatload of women and drugs are at their disposal. I’m exhausted. My bodyguards have had to deal with women waiting outside my room, attempting to sneak in or hang on me. Hendrick stayed behind to watch over Jules, and knowing he’s there instead of me is frustrating. She has sent some text messages, but that’s about it. Texting and calling aren’t my thing, so I fire off short, quick responses.

We are in Northern California. My phone pings, and it’s a message from Hendrick saying to call him ASAP. Stretched out on the hotel bed, I press send, and Hendrick picks up on the first ring.

He doesn’t waste any time. “Jules is in the hospital.”

I shoot up into a seated position. “What happened?”

“Attempted suicide.”

My legs drag the rest of my body to the edge of the bed. “She fucking, what?”

Hendrick sighs. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“How? Why?”

“I don’t have all the facts. All I know is she slit her wrists. Since she wasn’t answering her calls, her parents went over there and found her in time.”

“What hospital?”

“Central County.”

It’s all I need to know. I call Lee to have him meet me in the band’s room. They’re all hungover, zombie walking, farting yesterday’s meals and alcohol. It wreaks of a sewer system on a muggy day, clogged with dead animal carcasses and shit. I charge toward the balcony doors, fling them open, and gasp in as much fresh air as possible. A fury over Jules’ suicide attempt flares over these degenerates. We all get along, but when they bathe in the rockstar behavior, it's like a pick to my spine. And right now, my treasure is in the hospital, and I have to confront a bunch of drunks about getting a temp.

Lee walks into the room, muttering, “For fuck’s sake,” as he scans the mess.

Standing in the balcony doorway, arms folded over my chest, I mention I’m leaving. “Jules is in the hospital, so you’ll have to get someone to fill in.”

As Lee walks toward me, he stumbles over empty alcohol bottles, kicks them aside, and says, “Wait, what? Why is she in the hospital, and why do you care?”

My eyes lock on his. “Why she’s there doesn’t concern you, and I care because we’re together.”

Callan rises from the couch, wobbling to catch his bearings. “So, you two are an item? Like a relationship?” I nod. “This changes everything, Miles. Chicks love you. I thought you were taking advantage of the opportunity to fuck her.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Nope. It’s a relationship.”

He rubs his jaw and curses. “Man, the women will go ballistic.”

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