Page 21 of Addicted

My last meeting ran late. I’d hoped to get over to Denny’s apartment by six, but it was after seven by the time I’d run to the store for a new doorknob and found my way to her complex. I could hear the sound of things breaking as I came up the stairs.

I took a minute to shrug off my coat and suit jacket and fold them over my arm.

The moron was still there.

I smiled.

Good.

The apartment door was half open and I heard what sounded like shattering glass.

Curtis was wearing filthy sweats, caked in food and makeup. The stench of chemicals was overwhelming. I watched as he emptied a bottle of red wine all over the couch, his back to me.

I took a slow and deep breath, trying to tamp down the fury of seeing this sorry excuse for a man destroying the place he’d laid his head. As he pulled his arm back to throw the bottle, I saw the state of the couch he’d destroyed. Had that asshole taken a knife to the—

Alright, he was fucking done.

“That’s enough.” My voice boomed against the walls of the apartment.

He screamed, dropping the bottle.

Coward.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I’d met Curtis twice before. It didn’t surprise me that he had no clue who I was. He was a selfish prick. Case in point.

“You need to leave.” I wasn’t here to answer his questions, I was here to make sure he got the fuck out.

“Or what?” He was trying to be menacing, but I had at least seventy-five pounds on him. He took a few steps toward me. That was all the invitation I needed.

I gave him a blinding smile and dropped the bag in my hand to the ground, placing my jacket on the empty TV stand.

“Or I’ll beat you like your bitch ass daddy should’ve.”

Curtis made a strangled sound and took a swing at me. His gait was unsteady as he lunged toward me. Had this moron ever been in a fight before?

Moving sideways, I brought my fist into his stomach, right into his diaphragm. Watching him hunch over and struggle to breathe. I saw flashes of Denise’s bruises as I brought my knee up to his face, listening for the telltale crack. Delicious.

He fell to the ground, his face bleeding. I didn’t let his whimpering stop me. Dragging him across the floor, I made sure to cut a pathway through as much of the glass as I could. He kicked at me, and I dodged him, landing a kick of my own into his stomach. He reached for my leg, and I kicked him again and again. I wanted to mark him so he could wake up feeling the reminder of what a piece of fucking shit he was.

It felt good to see him bleeding. My mind went back to a different time. Looking at the kitchen counter above me, I saw a block of knives. It wasn’t a switchblade, but it would do. I stood, reaching over to take a look at what I had to choose from.

Curtis had given up trying to fight back and was curled in on himself, whimpering. Like that would stop me. Knife in hand, I leaned down, the glass crunching beneath my feet.

I caught the tip of his chin with the chef’s knife. He froze when he felt the cold steel biting into his skin. I tried to remember who I was now and not who I used to be. The blood was rushing in my ears, and I could see his lips moving, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Twenty-five years ago, a switchblade would’ve dug into your rib cage, maybe finding its way into your lung or your liver.”I put some pressure on the knife, my heart racing as blood began to drip down his neck.

The smell of piss hit my nose and my smile grew wilder.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to get the fuck out of here before I forget the man I’ve become.” I flipped the knife blade away from him and watched as he dragged himself up, glass glinting among the blood, as he scurried out of the door.

I dropped the knife to the ground and looked down at it. A smear of blood stained the edge. My chest constricted as I breathed against the rage flooding my body, the pull to chase him down and finish what I started. I grabbed for my suit jacket, feeling the wool beneath my fingers. Slipping it on, I stood in the open doorway, welcoming the chill and pulling the frigid air deep into my lungs.

I needed to remember.

Switch is gone. Dead. And. Buried.

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