Page 132 of Ecstasy
Didn’t eat that either, even though the take-out bags are still on the kitchen table and it smells damn good.
But fuck him.
Fuck his food, too.
I took a shower, checked under the vent in the bathroom, but he stole my shit from there too. He has no idea how much money he’s flushed down the fucking toilet, or wherever he put it. He doesn’t care either, because the asshole doesn’t work anyway and will never have to. He’s made out of God money, which is almost hilarious.
I want to needle him about his parents and their divorce and the headlines in North Carolina’s local news about his father having an affair with dozens of women, but I also don’t want to listen to his stupid voice.
I know, logically, that part of my irritation stems from the fact I’m off Adderall for the first time in weeks, maybe even months. I glance at the fridge, think about opening the freezer and swigging down some coconut rum, but I know he’ll start bitching about it and I don’t have the energy to deal with him.
Speaking of energy, my fucking headache would probably go away if I drank coffee.
I march past him, flicking my braids over my shoulder and pulling out the coffee and the filter from the cabinet. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t say shit as I fill up the machine, measure out the grounds.
But when he says, “It’s a little late for coffee, don’t you think?” just as I start brewing a few cups, I spin around to face him.
He’s got a stupidly cocky smirk on his stupid face and I want to punch him.
“Fuck off.” I know it’s a lame retort, but I don’t care. “Am I not allowed caffeine now, huh? I mean, I know that shit is a drug too, but it seems no one gives a shit about that!” I throw up my hands, just raging now. It has very little to do with Alex and a lot to do with the fact that I want some legal meth in my system.
Goddammit.I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t do real meth, but it’s all the fucking same, isn’t it? One just has the government’s approval and the other they can’t make money from, so they throw you in jail for cheating them.
I realize my hands are shaking and I curl them into fists, turn away from Alex, staring at the coffee pot. It’s moving too fucking slow.
“Zara…”
I refuse to turn around. I don’t want to see him or his pity.
I don’t want him to see my fingers shaking, or to know what he’s doing to me. What I’ve done to myself.
My throat feels tight, and I’m so fucking pissed and just so…exhausted.I just want to be alone. I don’t want to think about this, or him, or Eli, or any of it.
“Just go, Alex,” I whisper, brushing the warm tears from my face with the sleeve of the hoodie I’m wearing even though I’m sweating right now, and I just want to tear something apart. I want to throw the coffee pot against the wall. I want to cut this fucking sweatshirt off me. “Just go.” I take a shaky breath, listening to the end of the brew cycle, inhaling the scent of the coffee, but keeping my eyes closed tight. “Please go.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I know he won’t listen but it’s for his own good. I don’t know what’s going to happen with his mom, but I’m not her and he can’t fucking save me. I’m not her, and him pretending I am, pretending he can fixme, is just going to ruin us both.
He needs to leave.
“Alex, I can’t do this!” I shriek, burying my head in my hands. “I can’t do this and I’m so fucking sorry but I—”
He’s behind me, his fingers circling around my arm, but I yank back from him.
“No!” My voice comes out nearly broken and I hate it. “Don’t touch me! Just fucking go!”
He grabs me again and I try to fight against him, jerking in his grip and twisting my body in his arms to try and strike him. Hit him, kick him, whatever I can. But he’s got his arms wrapped around mine, pinning them to my sides, and it seems he expends no energy at all as he pulls me away from the kitchen counter, then slides his leg underneath one of mine and pulls up, causing me to lose my balance.
We hit the floor together, a solid thud throughout the whole apartment that I’m sure the people below us could hear but I don’t give a fuck about that at all.
His legs stretch out on either side of mine as he sits behind me, wrapping his arms around mine, my knees, too. He tugs me into his chest, and I start shaking, wanting to pull away. Wanting to run out of this apartment, down the steps, far away from here. Maybe even into that pool Rihanna Martinson drowned in. Alex’s pool. Eli’s pool.
I want to know what it feels like to drown.
I want to know what it feels like to feel nothing at all.
“Shh,” he whispers against my ear as I shake in his arms, burying my head against my own knees. His body is strong and warm and comforting behind me and I fucking hate it. I hate it because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve him, and everything he’s doing for me. The way he’s putting his life on hold for mine. Even after everything I’ve done, he’s still here.
“Shh,” he says again, holding me tighter, trying to stop my shaking. “It’s okay, princess.”
