Page 83 of Monster
I push the door shut behind me and amble to my office chair. I plop down in it and reach for the crystal decanter resting on the back edge of it. I pull a glass from the drawer and fill it to the brim. Some of the amber liquid splashes over the side onto the wood but fuck it. I bring the glass to my lips and tip my head back, downing the whole fucking glass.
My throat burns, but I don’t care.
My head spins, but I don’t care.
I don’t care. Except I do.
I care about Essa and all of the bullshit she has been through. I care way more than I ever have before and it’s eating me alive.
I close my eyes as I lean back and rest my head against the back of my chair. Voices scream out inside of my head, each of them yelling different things and confusing the hell out of me. But the loudest one is the one I’m trying my hardest to ignore.
She’s lying.
What could she possibly be lying about? I saw everything she was doing while she was away from me. I’ve seen the scars from what I assume to be her accident. What more could there be?
But there could be more…
The voices inside of my head screams at me, and I clench my fist around the decanter as I pour myself another full glass. I need to drown them out, and the only way I know how to do that is to get fucking shit faced.
Probably not the wisest move with a psycho little bitch in a room down the hall, but it is what it is. Either I drink and hopefully pass out, or I’m going to start digging and a deep, nagging feeling is beginning to pull at me that if I do just that, I’m not going to like it.
I quickly down the glass and clench my teeth as the burn settles deep in my stomach, not giving me the quiet I was aiming for. If anything, the alcohol is only making it worse. Something’s not right and I can’t fucking stand not knowing. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong, but something is.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and it clatters to the floor as it slips through my fingers. “Damnit,” I grumble as I lean down to pick it up. Blood rushes to my head as I bend over, and I have to close my eyes as black dots swarm my vision for a moment.
Fuck, that feels too familiar.
I shake off the remnants of my nightmare and pull up my contact list. Once I reach the M’s, I hit Mike's name and push the phone to my ear as it begins to ring. It rings on and off for a solid minute before going to voicemail. I hang up and hit redial. I’m not fucking leaving a voicemail. The prick needs to answer his phone, right fucking now if he knows what’s good for him.
“Hello?” his groggy voice answers on the other end right as I was about to hang up and callagain.
“The fuck took you so long to answer?” I growl out. I notice my words slur a bit, but I hope he doesn’t.
“It’s fucking midnight, Vincent. I was sleeping.”
“It’s midnight?” I question. I pull my phone away from my ear and squint my eyes as I glance at the numbers at the top of the screen. Well, damn, I guess it is.
“Yeah. It is. What do you need?” He sighs, and I roll my eyes, but the action makes my head pound. I push the heel of my palm to my forehead and exert pressure as I rub in circles.
“I need more info on Essa,” I say.
“Uh…” he trails off.
“What?”
“Why?”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘why?’”
“I mean, don’t you have her now? What else could you possibly need from me?” he asks. His tone is quiet but confused and it annoys the fuck out of me.“Besides info on the hit and run driver—which I’m still looking into. There is nothing on that yet but as soon as there is, I will let you know.”
“I know you’re working on the driver. That’s not what I was calling for. Also, I don’t pay you to ask me questions, Mike. I’m telling you to get me all of the info you have on Essa from her…time away.” I sneer the last two words. Even fucking thinking about her being gone heats my blood. That could also be from all the alcohol I’ve consumed, but I’m not going to think about it right now.
“All right. What time do you need it by?”
“Tomorrow morning.” I answer him.
“Tomorrow morning? That’s pushing it—”
