Page 120 of Beneath the Surface

That same chill from earlier skates up my spine again, wrapping around my middle, and robbing the breath from my lungs. I stay locked in place, terrified of moving. Petrified that he’ll walk over and take the photo from my hands, see that Chase exists and try to take him from me. Try tohurthim. My stomach rises and falls like a rollercoaster.

I close my eyes, trying to center myself even though everything in me is telling me to run as fast as I can. But I know that won’t work. Now that he’s seen me, I doubt he’ll let me go.

“Darryl,” I say in a shaky voice.

I set the photo face down, hoping to fuckingGodthat he doesn’t take notice, and spin around slowly, my heart beating in my throat.

His hair is greasy and standing in different directions, the icy blond tips he used to wear replaced by the dirt brown of his natural color. His face is marred with pockmarks, much worse than when I knew him, and even though he’s the reason behind a majority of my nightmares, I feel a pang of regret, sad that he’s never crawled out of the hole of his drug abuse. Gold metal chains dangle from around his neck, and a red and yellow shirt hangs loosely off his frame. The same shirt the lady at the gas station was wearing.

A shift change.

He smiles, the sight sending shivers down my arms and a rolling feeling through my gut.

“Hi, sugar. Long time.” His thumb comes up to rub at his bottom lip, his eyes glazed and unfocused even as he peers at me. It’sveryclear that he’s high.

“You look good,” he continues, his gaze raking up and down my form, making me feel stripped down and naked under his gaze. My stomach churns.

He moves closer, his hands tapping against his thigh in a nervous rhythm. “Where ya been, Lily baby? We’ve sure missed you around here.”

My mind races, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what will keep him calm and what will set him off. I force a smile on my face, resisting the urge to vomit. “I had to leave, Dar. I didn’t want to.” My eyes track his shaky hand as he pulls a Glock from his back pocket.

My heart stutters, stomach squeezing tight. “But Ihadto. I was messed up, you know? Had to get my mind right.”

“Hmm.” His eyes bounce between mine, and he rubs his temple with the tip of his gun. “Did it work?”

My smile is so wide, my cheek muscles pull. “Yep. I don’t have a phone, or I would have tried to find you sooner.”

My eyes fall past him to the open front door, and suddenly panic seizes my lungs, hoping like hell that Derek doesn’t come home. I don’t want him in danger because of me.

I slowly start to move toward him, hoping that his high will keep him from realizing what I’m doing. Maybe if I just do it slowly, one step at a time, I can make it. I glance to the entry table where I stupidly left the keys to Lee’s car. With the pepper spray.

“How did you get in, Darryl?”

He grins. “You left the door wide open for me, baby.” He grabs his junk and thrusts into his hand. “You that desperate to see me again?”

Bile teases the back of my throat as I take another step closer. I’m right in front of him now, my eyes darting from his face to his gun and back. My heart pulses in my neck, my breathing sharp and heavy.

I move to take another step while his eyes are bouncing around the room, but his head snaps toward me and he rushes over, his hand gripping my hair until it feels like I’m being scalped, the barrel of his gun slamming down on the side of my head.

My stomach rolls, dots blurring my vision. Wetness drips down the side of my face, red blots falling on the wood floor off my chin.

“You stupidbitch, you don’t think I see you trying to get away from me? Come over here and have a seat. Let’s catch up.” He shoves me forward by the head, the cut on my temple throbbing, and my stomach rolling like waves in the sea. He throws me down onto the couch cushions and sits next to me, his foot crossing over his opposite knee.

Mason’s voice filters through my mind, whispered words he spoke into my skin flowing through me like a prayer.

Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.

I shove my trembling hands under my thighs, hiding the shakes from his view.

He shifts, pulling something from his pocket, and I squint my eyes, realizing it’s a snuff bottle filled with cocaine. They’re small containers with holes in the top, easy access for when you’re on the go. He puts the bottle up to his nose, his other hand, gun and all, plugging the other nostril as he inhales deeply, snorting up his high.

The muscles in my body stiffen, having drugs so close to me for the first time in years. As strong as my mind has become, I don’t think the physical cravings will ever leave. My eyes flick to the picture frame that’s placed facedown on the fireplace lounge, reminding myself what’s at stake.

I need to play along. I need to do whatever I need to do in order to make it out of here and get back to my son.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He smirks as he sniffs from the snuff container again and then holds it toward me in offering. “You want?”

My jaw clenches, swallowing the saliva that’s pooling in my mouth. My fingernails rip into the couch cushion underneath my legs, holding on for dear life as I try to maintain control over my revolting body. My nerve endings light up, begging for the thing I trained it to need for years.

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