I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(17)

But then I remembered how quickly things can spiral out of control, how one little bump often leads to one big, fat line. More and more, since one is never, ever enough, either.

Everyone has a dark side, but mine has the power to consume me. You hear about not starting down a certain path, and maybe you wonder what exactly that shit means. I used to myself, wonder, that is, once upon a time. But now I know. I’ve been there, done that.

And here’s exactly how it goes…

The path is dark, black and twisting, the unknown.

But it’s also alluring. It beckons your soul.

It calls to you, whispering seductively.

It’s good at convincing, so you take one tentative step.

You hold your breath and wait and wait for the world to fall apart.

But nothing happens.

In fact, it feels kind of good to say, “Fuck it. Who cares?”

Scream it, the path whispers. So you do.

And then you push further…you take another step…then another.

Still cool, baby, see? And don’t you feel good?

Sure you do. You feel f*cking invincible.

So what the hell, what’s one more? Make that a few more.

And then…

The f*cking bottom falls out.

And, shit, you’re tumbling down hills, crashing into boulders, searching for something—anything—to grab on to.

But you’re on your own, baby. It was all one big lie.

And you fall.

Down, down low, until you wake up.

And when you do you’re battered and bloodied at the bottom, surrounded by rubble from the destruction you wrought.

Your life—that shit’s completely ruined.

And there I was last night, about to walk right off the edge…again.

That was me as I felt for the wall behind me, leaned back against the bricks, and closed my eyes. I just wanted to get out of that shitty alley, away from the f*cking demon in Missy’s purse, away from Missy.

But she misunderstood my sudden reversal. “If you’re feeling sick or something, I can just blow you,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Jesus.

I had every intention of stopping her, but then she dropped to her knees and popped the button on my jeans. Zip-p-p. What can I say? I’d spent the last of my resolve on denying myself the drugs, I didn’t have it in me to deny anymore. So I let Missy do her thing.

And, f*ck, her thing was pretty damn good, so good in fact that I seriously considered getting back to pleasing her some more. But the selfish, dark part of me had taken over, and I just didn’t care enough to bother. Not that Missy seemed to mind. She let me smooth back her hair and f*ck her mouth hard and thoroughly.

I told her how much I liked what she was doing, how good it felt. In response, she tried her damnedest to take all of me in, which is never an easy task for most girls. I was impressed with Missy’s effort, but I could see it was a struggle for her. I finally took pity on her and gave her a break. I went a little slower, not as deep, just an easy in and out.

“There, that’s it,” I said softly when she found a rhythm and slowly took in more and more.

Her top was still pushed up above her bra, so I reached down and tugged at hot pink sheer until her breasts spilled over the top. Missy rose slightly so I could more easily grope and caress her soft mounds—real, after all—while she deep-throated me until I was finished.

Shit.

I turn into the church parking lot and shut the memories from last night the f*ck down. I park, yank the emergency brake up, rake my fingers through my hair. Shit, shit, shit. What the hell was I thinking? I work for this church now, I can’t avoid Missy forever. If she blabs that I was with her and she had cocaine, I know what everyone will think. They’ll think I’ve gone right back to my old ways. Hell, they’ll probably think I supplied her.

But why would Missy say anything to anyone? I’m sure her drug use is a secret. And I seriously doubt she plans on broadcasting what happened between us in that disgusting alley any more than I do.

So, I take a breath, then another. Yeah, everything might turn out okay. This secret should be safe.

I glance around.

Mass ended a while ago; everyone is gone. The lot is empty, except for one car, a blue Neon with faded paint that looks a little worse for wear. I don’t know who it belongs to, but I know it’s not Missy’s. I was enough of a gentleman last night to walk her to her car. Although I think she was pissed I didn’t ask for her number. Oh, well. Like I said before, what happened between us was a one-time deal.

The rain, though lighter than before, continues to fall. Hell, it’s as good of an excuse as any to hang out in the lot for a while longer. But I can’t kid myself. I just don’t want to face Father Maridale quite yet. I know he’ll ask why I missed Mass this morning. Guess I’ll tell him I forgot to set my alarm. It’s no lie. I just won’t be relaying the reason why I was too tired to remember.

I slouch down in my seat, flip the radio on. An Imagine Dragons tune comes through the speakers. I like this song, a lot, so I turn up the volume. The music soothes my mind, and I start to feel better, more relaxed.

As if the weather is in synch with my brightening mood, the rain suddenly stops.

Perfect.

The sun comes out and this really good feeling washes over me, like maybe today is some kind of a new start.

Getting out of the truck, I think, bring it on. I am more than ready for whatever this new life of mine may have in store.