Page 23 of Inevitable Destruction

The cemetery… I tell myself. But I’ve also seen that face on a police officer, too, but I can’t even remember the last time I saw a fucking cop. The only time I can think of was when I was with Essa when she was still in the institution and those two officers showed up to…

“Fuck,” I groan. My arm finally lifts, and my palm smacks into the side of my head as I reach for my temple. His face is clear in my mind now. Those deep blue eyes of his searing into me with malicious intent.

I’d never seen eyes so fucking cold in my life.

Scratch that. Vincent is one to rival anyone with his soulless black pits for eyes.

I suck on my teeth, fighting back a groan of pain as I push myself to my knees. Knowing the moment I try to stand on my feet, I’ll collapse once more, I crawl to the edge of my bed and pull myself up using my comforter. I splay myself across my bed, and barely register the sound of bottles falling to the floor.

I shove my hand under my pillow and wrap my numb fingers around the small plastic bottle like it’s my lifeline—and it is.

I pop the cap easily and dump three pills into my palm, tossing them back with a dry swallow. I push away the thought that now it takes three instead of two. But that’s a different problem for a different day. Or maybe it’s not so much of a problem. It could be worse. It could be the needle—but it’s not, so I guess I’m better off than I originally thought.

Sure, the urge for the needle is always there, but I can fight it easily enough. The numbness the pills bring makes me forget the urge, anyway. So what if it takes three now? It’ll turn to four, then eventually five. And hopefully by the time that happens, I won’t even have the clarity to recognize how deep I’ve gotten.

Like I said, it could be worse.

I lick the fleshy inside of my cheeks, savoring the bitter powder lingering inside of my mouth. I focus on the filmy texture on my tongue as my mind wanders back to where it will disappear from soon enough. And while I’m falling down the rabbit hole, I don’t stop it—and hopefully, I won’t remember any of this later when I come back.

Why do I feel like I’ve seen that face so many times as of late—and the most recent time being… shit. I exhale a deep breath, my temples throbbing with dull, sober clarity—for now. All I have to do is wait for the pills to hit.

But until then, I’m stuck fucking remembering a dirty fucking mistake.

I don’t know how—or why—but I feel eyes on me. A gaze that’s hot and heavy and burning through me, straight to the bone. My mind is foggy as I go through the motions of fucking this girl. I can feel her around me like a warm vice, but the sensation isn’t there.

I’m numb, just the way I like it. I don’t even remember why I wanted to do this. It’s always so pointless when I’m high—because even drugs are better than sex.

Oh. Right. Essa.

I tighten my grip on her hips and slam forward, and before I can think twice, I twist my upper half to peer behind me. My eyes find a pair of deep blues. In my hazy state of mind, I can’t really focus on more than his eyes locked on mine and his hair, long and brushed back from his face, only serving to accentuate his sharp features and rounded nose.

Heat stirs in my gut, and I find myself fucking the woman harder, faster, as sensation flows through me, new and ferocious—until our stare is broken, and he disappears behind the door with a slam.

My pace falters as I’m thrown off balance by a random pair of eyes no longer holding me in place.

Why is it I can so easily fuck Essa from my mind, but as I pound into some hot chick’s pussy, all I can picture is a man’s eyes? I must be higher than I thought.

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