Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(118)

“Shhh… Shhh…”

I wrapped my arms around her, wanting her to seek the comfort she needed in my arms. Return the love that I always received from hers. I knew that I didn’t deserve it, but I was a selfish son of a bitch, I needed it. I held her shattering body in my trembling arms, physically feeling her soul breaking piece by piece. Every last part of her slipped through my hold. My limbs locked up on me from the slightest movements.

“Oh f*ck… Daisy...” I groaned out in pure agony from everything.

Her swollen eyes suddenly opened, looking at me in a new light. We locked gazes for a second, taking each other in. As she reached up to wrap her arms around my neck, the box simultaneously fell from her grasp to the hard wood floor between us. The slow motion boom, echoed all around us. My mind was telling me no, but my body didn’t give it a second thought.

The ache won.

Betraying both of us.

I grabbed the box, and stood, my body moving on its own accord. Her arms slipped away from my neck, and I instantly missed her warmth.

Her love.

My Daisy.

My mind was raging war with my body, battling not to leave her there, broken. Struggling to not use again. Fighting for my life that was still sitting on the floor, realizing what I just did to her.

It wasn’t enough. It never was. I walked to the door without a second glance.

And left.





Chapter 36





<>Briggs<>



“Rock bottom.”

Two words I’d heard mentioned countless times in stories at the NA meetings. Every last addict repeating those two words, I never realized that I could have one too, not until that day. I thought after finding the drugs in the room that was supposed to be our baby’s and coming to the realization that he’d lied to me for the first time in over a year and a half, was my rock bottom.

Except it wasn’t.

He’d never chosen drugs over me.

I always came first.

No matter what, I was the most important thing. His demons, his struggles, his addiction were always secondary. Our love was number one, primary in all aspects of our f*cked up lives.

I lost.

That was my rock bottom, and I couldn’t do it anymore.

I don’t know how long I sat there stunned by the turn of events. Crying my eyes out for what felt like the millionth time. The slamming of the front door jerked me away from my thoughts. There wasn’t an emotion left in my body for me to feel.

I raged with fury.

A decade of solitude and years spent void of any emotion. No love, an endless stream of hurt, pain, and emptiness always in my shadows. The barricade that surrounded my heart, never allowing me to leave, was a ticking time bomb that waited, had now exploded.

It was loud, disastrous, and chaotic.

It was going to take everything around me with it, like a tornado spinning around in circles. No one stood a chance, especially me. It elicited feelings I never thought would be possible, emotions that one should never have to experience.

I felt every loss of breath. It cluttered my mind willing me to keep going, to push through. I couldn’t keep up with the agony that grasped onto me like a f*cking vice. Taking me deeper under the ground where there was no one, but… me.

Alone.

Forever destined to be alone.

Life was cruel like that.

I hated him…

I hated myself.

I crept up off the floor, my skin itching and my mind burning. My reflection in the mirror made me sick.

My misery.

My hand caught my mouth as I ran into the bathroom, hurling my head over to the toilet. I heaved over and over again.

Getting rid of the toxic poison inside of me. Our love.

I spit out the rest of it, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. I rinsed my mouth out with water and fervently shook my head side-to-side, trying to block out the last several hours of my life.

His lies.

His touch.

My memories.

Austin.

They were forever seared in my soul. It was now a piece of me, something that I would never be able to detach myself from. I screamed out my frustration, unleashing the rage, the wrath I no longer had any control over. It pounded into me as furiously as the truth did minutes ago. I walked out of the bathroom, slowly walking toward our bedroom. Remembering how many times he made love to me when he was high. When he was f*cked up, f*cking me. Lying to me, saying he wasn’t using. That he loved me. That I was his girl.

His Daisy.

I took one last look around the room before I grabbed my suitcase from the closet and threw it on the bed. Grabbing everything I could from my drawers. I scurried around the closet, my feet stomping everywhere I stepped, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. I packed everything I could find not caring what it was. My eyes blurred with tears every time I shoved a piece of me into my bag. My body twisted with the desire to fall apart. To crumble to pieces right then and there.

“I f*cking hate you! I f*cking hate you so much!” I yelled, talking to myself.

I repeated it over and over again to let it sink into my pores, wanting it to become a part of me. To fuel my determination to leave him and not look back. I grabbed a few things from the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face. I hurried, rushing as fast as I could to get my shit together and leave. Praying that I could get the hell out of there before he got back. I didn’t want to hear his lies. His excuses. His manipulations.