Page 6 of Ghosted in Arkadia
My body shutters, and I relax to fit more of him inside. A light catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I pull back. My hand wraps around his cock, pumping idly as I take a better look. Alexander’s watch sits on the inside of his wrist, the face illuminated. A text message is visible on the screen.
I grab his arm, pulling it closer. That better not say what I think it says.
“What the fuck, Kira?” Alexander tries to struggle, but I squeeze his cock in warning.
Miss you and that giant dick
“Fuck no.” I drop Alexander’s cock and arm before getting to my feet. My heart hammers in my chest while the world feels like a runaway merry-go-round.
The reflected faces in the mirror blur, and Alexander checks his watch. He looks back at me with round, wide eyes. The look of someone caught. I’ve seen it plenty enough at work.
“Fuck you.” I bark as the world comes back into precise, sharp detail. I storm to the door, then fumble with the lock. A sense of urgency fills me to get away before he can tell me exactly why I wasn’t enough.
“She’s in a different country, Kira,” Alexander tries, but I don’t stick around to hear anymore once I swing the door wide.
Storming up to the bar, I put several shots of vodka on Alexander’s tab before asking the bartender to call me a ride. Idown the drinks, one after the next, needing the reminder that I am cursed.
The mateless are cursed.
The world is spinning again when I go outside the club and stand at the curb to wait for the self-driving car to pick me up. I half expect Alexander to follow me outside, but he doesn’t.
Guess he remembered I could wipe the floor with him if I lost my temper. He’s lucky I am still in a state of semi-shock, and the anger hasn’t fully sunk in yet. I can feel it simmering inside me, ready to boil over.
That’s where the vodka comes in.
I get into the cab and punch in my address before slumping into the seat. The world sits on a shifted axis, and all my mind wants to focus on is reliving every second of what happened. By the time the cab pulls over in front of my house, my hands are shaking so badly that I struggle to get the key into the lock.
I’m always going to be alone.
The tears threatening to spill from my lower lashes burn worse than the vodka as I take a swig from the bottle once I enter my room. My head swims, and I stumble to my bed. The green duvet greets me with a kiss, and something hard hits me on the head. Sitting up, I look around and notice the cuff of my kit that I had forgotten to put away earlier.
I wrap it around my wrist and hiss when the needle plunges into my skin. My head swims again, this time caused by the sensation of my blood being pulled from my arm and down the thin tube. The blanket hides the pen, but I pull it to me by the tether.
I look down at my thigh and the vast area of skin. I need the room for what I’m about to write.
Don’t fucking worry about the competition. Fucker was an asshole. I got to find out about his other girlfriend while kneeling on the bathroom floor withhis dick halfway down my throat. Guess that says plenty about me as well.
I watch the words sink into my skin, erasing my diary pages clean. But I’m not finished. Not yet. I touch the pen’s tip to my forearm, having one last statement to add.
After that, I’m done.
Forever.
You’re better off dead than stuck with me.
The tears fall as the last letters sink into my skin. My body shakes with every desperate grab for air, but the saline of sadness chokes me. My mind decides now is the time to remind me of every instance I wasn’t enough.
By the time sleep comes, I welcome the numbing abyss.
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Bright light shines through the window, hitting me directly in the face. I squint and groan before rolling over. A sharp pain shoots through my wrist, and I scramble up, only to realize the tether to my cuff has wrapped around me in the night.
I press my hand to the smooth part of the bracelet, instructing it to retract the needle from my skin before ripping the cuff free. This time, I shove the blood-filled tubing, the pen, and the cuff into my drawer and slam it closed.
My head is pounding, and I cradle it as I look down at the floor.
I really need to slow down my drinking.
