Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
My eyes squeezed shut and I couldn’t bring myself to even walk her out.
Then I grabbed a bottle of bourbon and headed for my bedroom. I shut the blinds and turned on some music. Loud.
I heard the doorbell ring distantly sometime later but ignored it. If it was Mom coming back to apologize, she could fucking eat it. More likely it was just some fucking delivery person. Well, they could all just fuck off.
I swallowed another long draft of bourbon. It lit my throat on fire as it burned down my throat.
I laughed into the bottle—imagining my father right at this moment, burning forever in hell. And in that moment if I had to sell my soul all over again, I would.
EIGHTEEN
HIM
I grin in pleasure. Well, this is all going positively gorgeously.
I couldn’t have crafted it more perfectly myself.
It just goes to show—with humans, all you have to do is tug a desire here. Nudge a temptation there. Pump up an ego.
They’ll take care of the rest of it all on their own.
They can’t help themselves, really.
It’s part of what makes them so fun to play with.
And I’m having so much fun. So very much fun.
I’m not nearly done playing yet.
Especially with her.
NINETEEN
LUNA
I stood outside Mason’s door, wilting after I rang the doorbell for the third time and there was no response.
His car was in the driveway but I supposed that didn’t mean anything. Usually we were stoked to drive our own cars when we were home because it was a luxury we didn’t have when we were on the road. But Mason could have easily had a car pick him up to take him somewhere.
Or he’d seen me at his doorstep and didn’t want to deal with me at the moment.
I turned around quickly and jogged back to my own car. God, I could be so melodramatic sometimes. It probably didn’t have anything to do with me.
My bandmates had family and busy lives.
I was the only one who had… no one.
Well, me and Bishop. But he never lacked for people surrounding him. It was his talent. You’d think such an asshole would have a hard time keeping friends, but somehow it was the opposite with him. He just radiated something that people were attracted to. It didn’t matter how he treated you.
It was just me who seemed to find myself alone when we weren’t on the road or recording an album.
Utterly… alone.
There was nothing else to do except go back to my very, very empty home.
* * *
A week later I was late to the airport, running the whole way. I got to the terminal gate just in time. My phone had been pinging for the last ten minutes. No doubt Mason and the others wondered where the hell I was. I didn’t answer, I was too busy running through the airport. Plus, I didn’t want to bother explaining I’d had a hard time getting out of bed this morning.
Plus, I got there just as Bishop was meandering in with his bag slung over his back, coming from the other direction. No one had gotten on the plane yet. Some people were pulling out phones to take pics of Bishop, but he ignored them. A chartered international flight had seemed unnecessary, so we were just flying first class.
“Luna!” Mason said, hurrying forward. “You had me worried. You’re usually the one who’s an hour early. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, sliding the handle of my suitcase down. My heart was still beating fast from racing through the airport.
“How was your week off?” Cash asked, then he took a long swallow from a water bottle, glancing at me sideways.
“Fine,” I said again, through my teeth this time. Why did everyone keep asking how I was?
My mind flashed back to last week, shivering in the bathtub long after the water had gone cold, clutching my knees to my chest.
The truth? I was having a hard time not throwing myself into all of their arms, like a five-person mosh pit.
I was bad at being alone.
Understatement.
When I was alone, it was like my skin started itching from the inside out. And then there was the silence. Except it wasn’t silent—there was this buzzing noise. The fucking buzzing that got louder and louder and fucking LOUDER the more you tried not to focus on it.
So I’d turned on the TV. That worked for a couple days. But by day two, the sound of fake voices and the lack of the guys’ usual obnoxious noises… I’d bit my nails down to the nub. Till they started bleeding. Paced up and down my house that had too many rooms for one person. Re-dyed my hair. Took yet another bath.
“You sure everything’s okay?” Mason asked, prodding.
The attendant announced first class boarding.
I yanked my suitcase handle up. “I said I’m fine.” I put my head down, tugged the head of my hoody low, and stomped towards the jetway.