Page 82 of Inevitable Destruction

DOMINIK

“@tddybear”—Highly Suspect, Nothing But Thieves

I wakesome time in the middle of the night. It’s quiet, eerily so. The only sounds are of my heart beating and my rapid breathing.

My skin is dripping sweat, soaking the sheets below. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling while I gain my bearings. I’m comfortably numb and willfully ignorant about the situation I’ve put myself in.

Growing itchy the longer I sit in my own sweat, I pull back the blanket with a heavy arm and force myself out of bed. I shuffle along the carpet as I make my way down the hall to the kitchen. My eyes travel the room, taking in everything as I take a seat on the barstool.

I’ve been here for two, three days, I think. I lose sense indefinitely when I stick a needle in my arm; days and nights blur together in an endless stream of warped reality.

I rest my arms on the countertop and lay my head on them, staring at the wall to my right. There aren’t many personal effects here, mostly just furniture and whatnot. It doesn’t feel very homey, but that doesn’t exactly surprise me with the person Rhett is.

A buzzing noise has my head lifting from my arms. It pauses again before resuming a few moments later. I force my overly tired body down to the counter near the refrigerator where my phone apparently is, my headphones still connected.

A laugh escapes my lips without much thought as I pick it up and sit back down, unable to stay standing. I’ve been so fucking far out of it, I forgot I had a phone, or a home, or even a fucking life outside of the four walls of this house—Rhett’s house.

I unwind the headphones from around my phone, noticing a few recent missed calls and dozens of texts—all of them from Jay. I release a remorseful sigh at the thought of Jay and everything that happened between us a few weeks ago. Everything I fucked up.

I open the thread between us and scroll up to find the start of the ones he’s sent me. He’s texted me quite a few times since he dropped me off that night. Asking how I was, apologizing—over and over. My self-hatred has been at an all-time high, and the only thing I could think to do was ignore him because facing him and what we did, how fucking concerned he looked when he asked me if I had a problem, was—is—too much.

Jay: Man, I’m sorry. I’m worried about you.

I haven’t heard from you in weeks.

That’s not like you, man.

Can you call me back, so I know you’re alive?

Dom, what the fuck, dude.

That’s the last text I’m able to read before my phone vibrates again. The clock on my screen says it’s after midnight—almost one A.M., to be exact. What the hell is he calling me right now for?

I swipe my finger across the screen and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Dom,” Jay breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, the sound so fucking potent, I can feel it through the phone. I wish I could say I felt remorseful, guilty, anything really, but I don’t feel a goddamn thing.

“What’s up?” I ask, hating how thick and groggy my voice sounds. I drop my phone to the countertop and hit speaker so I don’t have to use any extra energy to hold it in place.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks. I’ve been so fucking worried about you.” He slurs his words a bit, probably drunk or high—maybe both if his rapid, garbled speech tells me anything.

He’s a partier, for sure, but he always has a level head about it, so this call is disconcerting.

I don’t even bother opening my mouth, letting him get it all out. I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to. It would be ridiculous to tell him I’m fucking a man that wants to hurt me and also letting him shove a needle in my arm.

Yeah—no thanks. It’s too complicated for even me to figure out—and I’m the one fucking living this messed up life.

“You disappeared off the face of the earth. I went to your place and hammered on your door until one of your piece of shit nosey neighbors called the cops, and they fucking escorted me off—escorted, Dom! So much shit could’ve been ruined for me because of that. You’re ignoring me because we kissed.

“Which was a mistake, but we’re best fuckin’ buds, dude. We don’t do that. Especially not since you have a—”

“I have a what, Jay?” My words come out slow, deadly. I may not have been able to keep up with the words flying out of his mouth, but I did catch his last words loud and fucking clear.

“Fuck, hold on.” The line goes silent for a minute, and I suck on the fronts of my teeth as I wait, unsure as to why I’m even putting an effort into a conversation I most likely will forget by the time I wake up tomorrow.

I’m already so fucking exhausted.

My phone screen lights up, Jay’s name appearing for a FaceTime call. My fingers rub my temples in circles, trying to dull the throbbing that suddenly appeared, but it’s no use. My index finger presses the green button, and the screen switches to Jay’s face.

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