Page 112 of Inevitable Destruction

EVERETT

“Hurt You”—Living In Fiction

Three days.

Seventy-Two hours.

Time has never felt so fucking long in my life—not even when I got the call about Pops. Nothing compares.

I bring the bottle back to my lips, guzzling the liquid fire. It pours down my throat in long rivulets as I stare down the neck at the destruction in front of me.

Dominik’s apartment is a disaster. Shards of glass litter the floor, the furniture upturned. Anything that was in sight was destroyed by my own hand—though Dominik got a head start after I walked right out the fucking door, leaving him…

I’ve kept away for three days, and now I’m back despite my best efforts—but he’s nowhere to be found. The only thing gone is his car. He could be anywhere, with anyone.

“FUCK!” The bottle in my fist smashes against the wall. The glass explodes, and the liquor inside splashes across the gray walls. My chest heaves, and my hands rake through my hair, yanking hard enough to pull strands loose from my scalp.

My boot connects with the couch I flipped on its side, a long rip slicing through the cloth backing. I don’t stop until air wheezes into my lungs and my feet grow numb.

I slam the door behind me, the vibration traveling up the walls of the building. I stumble on the stairs, my hand flying out to grab the rail as I regain my balance. The room spins, my gut twisting, threatening to spew the contents onto the floor, but I bite it back, swallowing the sludge creeping up my throat.

I won’t give him the fucking satisfaction of affecting me like this. Whether the direct cause is from the alcohol or not, he’s still the reason behind it all.

He’s always the fucking reason.

I stagger out into the cool evening, rain misting across my overheated skin. I blink away the sweat trickling down my forehead and into my eyes as I swing my leg over my bike and start it.

Vibrations surge through me, and I twist the throttle, loving the way it groans and shakes. I fly through the night and jump on the interstate where I really give her speed. My Harley keeps up with the demand as I weave around cars erratically.

My exit comes up, and I lean into the curve before rolling to a stop. Neon lights flash in my peripheral, and I pull into the lot, leaving my bike running as I yank open the door, heading straight for the liquor.

I swipe up the first bottle of vodka I see and bring it to the counter. I dig around in my pocket for a twenty and slap it down, leaving post haste. Popping the seal, I bring the bottle to my lips and guzzle some down, instantly wincing at the taste.

“This shit is nasty.” I scoff. I don’t know how the fuck Dominik loves this stuff so much.

My jaw locks as he casually flits through my mind, like he actually belongs there.

I shove the flat, plastic bottle into my waistband and jump back on, heading to the one place on my mind—a place I shouldn’t go, but like with his apartment, I can’t resist.

It comes into view all too soon, and before I know it, my tires sink into the wet earth as I drive right to his fucking headstone. Instead of using my kickstand, I just lean my bike against the large stone where my father lies—it’s not like he gives a fuck. It’s a hunk of rock.

I stagger off and collapse to the ground, the bottle already to my lips as I drown my sorrows, my remorse, my pain in a much too small bottle.

* * *

“What’sit say about either of us that I knew you’d be here?” A voice filters through my drunken stupor, and my head lifts from my chest, smacking against the stone at my back.

“Fuck you doing here?” I slur, bringing the bottle to my lips, only to find it bone-dry. I scoff and toss it through the air, where it lands a few feet away with a dull thud.

“That was pathetic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jame.” My eyes close, too heavy to keep open. I can hear the suction of her boots across the wet earth as she walks closer to me.

“You know,” she starts as she takes a seat next to me on the ground, bumping my shoulder as she does. My body cants to the side, giving her room to lean against the stone. “I’ve been thinking about everything you said the other day, and I just have to say, you are so full of fucking shit.”

My eyes pop open in surprise, my gaze finding hers piercing into me. Before I can open my mouth, she cuts me off with the wave of her hand.

“I know you better than you even know yourself, Everett. I’ve been your partner, your only friend, since we were hired at the precinct years ago. You’re aloof, pretending you don’t care, but you do.” Her eyes meet mine once more, knowing and understanding.

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