Page 104 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

But the music and the oddly rhythmic sound of the wipers wasn’t enough to silence the demons in the form of Matthias’s lyrics.

I’m overthinking again tonight

Slower torture than grabbing a bottle

To end it all

He hadn’t been referring to suicide, but the endless dousing of pain with alcohol. And what he’d been overthinking hadn’t been set to a soundtrack of shouts and tears and the wrench of metal. Sirens coming closer, closer.

Coming for me.

I didn’t know where I was driving to. Where did I have to go?

Lindsey.

Her name was like a neon sign in my head, the only thing strong enough to combat the flames and agony. My body was aching as if I was back there in that car. As if what I held in my hands wasn’t the steering wheel but the twisted metal that had trapped me in my self-created prison.

My mouth was so dry. I wanted a drink. Needed it. Better yet, something stronger. I c

ould find a hit without trying too hard. I was in the city, after all, one that didn’t sleep and offered dreams for the asking price of an ounce of today’s drug du jour.

I had money. What else did I fucking have?

Lindsey.

Again, her name. It had become some kind of talisman for me. A way to ward off all the shit I couldn’t fight back or forget.

Most of the time, I could find distractions. I chased them. It would’ve been just as easy to find a woman to sink into as it would have to get some black tar or coke or E. Didn’t really matter what. Or who. I hadn’t relapsed, not even at the beginning. But pussy had been a safe substitute, even if I hadn’t always been kind afterward.

Just as I hadn’t been kind to Lindsey.

Since that first time with her, there had been no one else. Couldn’t be. What had once been easy was now empty. I’d compare every face, every voice, to hers and they would all be lacking.

Yet I couldn’t have her either. Not if it meant she’d be in a tabloid picture that could tangle her name with mine. I could take it, even if knowing my scars had been on display made me want to disappear and not come back. She couldn’t. Her reputation was above reproach. I wasn’t going to be what sent her into emotional rehab.

And Kyle…

I wouldn’t think about it. Couldn’t. But I touched the destroyed tape I carried in my jacket pocket as a reminder. Lo hadn’t asked why I’d taken it, despite the spool being almost fully unwound, and I hadn’t explained.

When I weakened, this would help me remember.

I stepped on the gas. The Jeep shimmied and swerved. Trees blurred past the windows, soaked and bending in the wind. It whipped against the vehicle, battering me from one side of the road to the other.

Then, now.

Still, I pressed for more speed. This was my distraction. I’d drive through hell itself and see where I ended up.

Whole, if not intact.

Shouts in my head, screams blaring from the radio. They mixed and mingled as I stared through the windshield into what could’ve been another too dark, rainy night.

While a pair of headlights tracked me like prey.

I’d barely been aware of them at first. I’d been driving without destination, but I knew where the car was pointed. I was headed to Lo’s, although I couldn’t say why. He wasn’t equipped to deal with me in a state like this. Sweet Bella certainly was not. I wouldn’t dump my problems on their doorstep.

I just couldn’t seem to turn the car around.

Faster, harder, I pushed on the gas. Asking for more even as the Jeep sputtered. It didn’t seem to be responding to my commands. The rain was making me sloppy. Causing the vehicle to skid on the slick roads. Just like that night. I’d been sluggish then, for understandable reasons.

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