Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I’m exhausted but I can’t be still or I start to focus on my breathing, on how my stomach is a whirlpool.
Shelby’s scratches weren’t enough to ease the pressure. In the bathroom, careful not to look in the mirror, as always, I turn on the shower so the bathroom fills with steam.
The razor blade parts my skin easily, blood welling, then dripping down my chest. Every cut sends a rush of heat through me, relaxing my stomach a bit, making my breaths come easier, as if I can draw in oxygen through them like gills. It’s been a while.
Under the hot water, my head starts to swim. I hardly notice what’s happening until I’m gasping for air on the floor of the shower, sobs turning me inside out.
Any recognizable feeling is so far out of reach that it may as well be a distant star I’m clawing at as I spiral through the vastness of space.
I wander from room to room, picking things up and putting them down again because there’s nothing that can help. Finally, I crawl into bed with the bourbon and put up the hood on my sweatshirt. The heat’s up high but I can’t stop shaking.
The bourbon hits me all at once and the room is spinning. Distantly, I register that Shelby has jumped onto the bed and curled up on Rafe’s pillow. On the pillow Rafe always uses, I mean. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. I checked.
But Shelby’s sense of smell is stronger than mine. Maybe she can still find a trace of him in the fabric.
I WAKE up to my phone ringing in the other room. I have no idea how long I’ve been out. Everything is dark, but it’s because my hood’s over my face, which is damp with tears or spit or the condensation of breathing into the fabric. I know if I try to get up to get my phone I’ll puke, so I pull the covers tight around me and slip away again.
THE NEXT time I wake up, it’s to Brian shaking me. My head feels like it’s splitting apart, and my stomach gives a warning heave when Brian jostles my shoulder. I groan and bat his hand away.
“You okay?” Brian asks, his voice rough. I try and pull the covers back over my head, but he doesn’t let me.
“Come on,” he says and holds out a hand. He looks wrecked. “You’ll feel better if you puke.”
I groan at the word, but I know he’s right. I’m sweating bullets and my mouth is so dry I can barely swallow, but I stick my finger down my throat and vomit what feels like acid until there’s nothing left in my stomach. I move to brush my teeth, but when I catch sight of the bloody razor sitting on the sink next to the soap, my stomach heaves again. I must’ve been really out of it to leave it there.
When I stagger out of the bathroom, Brian passes me a beer and I sip it until my stomach settles.
“I was calling you all day yesterday and you didn’t answer.”
He kneels and holds out a hand to Shelby, who comes and sniffs him delicately. Then she rubs her head against his fist and sits to let him pet her, rubbing her face against his knee.
“God damn it, Shelby,” I say under my breath.
“What?” Brian asks, looking up at me as he scratches Shelby between her shoulder blades, making her purr and lean into him. I actually start to fucking tear up because the damn cat likes everyone better than me. Then she makes a sound that I haven’t heard before, like she’s whining.
“Nothing, man,” I say. “Gimme a sec.”
I change out of my sweats, shocked to see it’s ten in the morning. Oh fuck. Brian said he called me all day yesterday. That means I passed out hard. Lost a whole day. Missed both of Shelby’s feedings.
“Shit.” I hurry into the kitchen and tip food into Shelby’s bowl. At the sound, she comes galloping into the kitchen and shoves her face in the bowl.
“I’m sorry, Shelby,” I whisper. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
I reach out a shaky hand to pet her, but she twists away.
“Sorry,” I murmur again and tip a little bit of extra food into her dish.
“Um, did you call Dan?” I ask.
Brian looks sheepish. “I forgot. Sam called him yesterday. He’s driving. Should be here tonight. So, um, do you want to come back to the house? I just thought, you know, we could hang together or whatever.”
No. I absolutely don’t want to go to Pop’s house when Pop’s not there anymore. But I’m afraid of what I might do if I stay here alone, so I grab my coat and my keys and follow Brian to his car. I look at my phone to see ten missed calls from Brian, but what I’m really looking for is the call from Rafe that isn’t there.