Page 108 of Inevitable Destruction

The fucking snake thinks he knows everything about me, but he doesn’t know about this part of my past—the danger I put myself in, the danger I’m willingly seeking out now because I need…

I lean back in my chair, melting into it, and homing in on the buzzing ringing in my ears.

My arms are grabbed, and I’m hauled to my feet. I stand, albeit unsteadily, as I’m pushed into the living room. Marcus releases me, and I fall backward, landing on the sunken, musty couch with an oomph. I sink back into the cushions, feeling the springs jab into my spine as some of them jut through the thin material.

“I may not have what you usually want, but I do have something I think you’ll like.” Marcus takes a seat next to me and holds my arm in his lap, pushing up my sleeve and revealing the shapeless pattern of the marks the needle leaves etched into my skin—a small price to pay for the numbness.

“You want it, Dominik? What I have for you?” My bleary eyes land on him. His mustache is quirked up with a smile that reaches his… brown eyes. I think they’re brown, anyway. The dude smiles too much but—

“Sure,” I shrug. I don’t fucking care anymore. He could inject Windex into me; I’d revel in whatever if it made me feel—good, bad, doesn’t matter.

Anything is better than this, than life without him.

Fuck the consequences. Nothing is worse than what he already did to me.

My eyes close when the smooth chill of leather slides around my bicep. He cinches the belt, pulling as tight as it will go. I can feel my pulse in my arm, strong and throbbing when I want it weak and slowing.

Letting Marcus do whatever he wants to me pulls at my conscience. It feels wrong on a nuclear level, and I find myself tensing, just waiting for Rhett to bust through the door and strangle me to death for daring to do this without him. Without fucking him first—

“Wow,” I mumble to myself with a pathetic scoff. I swipe my hand down my face, feeling my skin tug and the scratch of my too-long facial hair against the soft pad of my palm.

“What’s up? Second thoughts? I hope not…”

“I’m pathetic.” I’m pitifully self-deprecating—just like Rhett would throw in my face given the opportunity. But he won’t have any more of those because he fucking left.

“You ready?” Marcus breathes in my ear, far too close than I remember him being, and I stiffen on instinct, pulling away, but nodding, nonetheless.

“This will be the best high of your life, Dominik. Get ready to fly.”

“Fuck,” I hiss as he jabs a needle into my skin, thoughts or worries of cleanliness nowhere to be found inside of my mind. I’m dizzy with equal parts anticipation and nausea and then—I’m fucking floating.

“Mmm,” I mumble, my jaw falling slack. Drool flows out of my mouth as my body topples over.

I never land, though. I fucking soar.

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