Released (Caged #3)(18)
I agreed to do as he said because I knew that was what I had to do.
*****
Walking back into my apartment felt weird. Once I got there and opened the door, it was even worse than I thought it would be.
Aside from the obvious emptiness of the whole place without Tria’s stuff and her presence, it was still totally destroyed. Apparently, even after throwing shit around when I realized she was gone, I had further trashed the place during my heroin binge.
I had to step carefully through the mess. There was so much stuff lying around, I figured my jacket and other stuff I brought back from the hospital wasn’t going to make it any worse, so I dumped them in the living room and just made me way to bed.
Stripping down to my boxers, I dropped the clothes on the floor and fell into the bed. Even though I had basically spent the last couple of days doing nothing but sitting in a hospital room and talking, I felt like I had been at the gym constantly. My head ached, my muscles ached, and I felt like someone had shoved a bunch of nails into my guts.
Reaching out, I grabbed Tria’s pillow and pulled it close to me. Her scent had vanished, but the pillow was better than nothing. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep a little. I was going to have to work in a few hours, but sleep wouldn’t come. I tucked my face against the pillow, but it wasn’t the same as tucking my face into her shoulder or her hair.
I squeezed hard, holding the pillow against my chest as tightly as I could, but it just didn’t help. Even with the slight reminder of her presence, it wasn’t helping me sleep in the least.
I needed her there—her presence, her warmth.
Shoving the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, I growled in frustration before shoving myself up and out of the bed. I stomped into the living room and grabbed my cigarettes. Deciding I just didn’t give a shit, I flopped down in the middle of the floor and lit up. I tried not to think, but it just didn’t work. There were so many different pitfalls in front of me, I knew there was no way I could manage to avoid them all. I was going to fall, and there wasn’t anyone around to catch me.
As much as I wanted to blame someone else—hell, anyone else—for that fact, I knew who was really at fault. I didn’t even need to go find a mirror. Yolanda had picked me up too many times in the past, and she had made it pretty damn clear after the last time that it wasn’t going to happen again. Yeah, that had been years ago, but she wasn’t one to go back on her word.
Not like I had.
That was one of the things that drove Tria away. I ran out on her, which I said I wouldn’t do, and I scared her. I scared her at the time when she needed me the absolute most. She needed me, and I just walked away from her.
No, I didn’t just walk away—I threw a f*cking table first.
I wiped tears from my face. I hadn’t realized I had been crying.
In my mind, I could see her face. The details of how she looked when I went ballistic about the news were far clearer than they had been at the time. Her wide eyes, the tears streaming down her face, and the way she jumped back—her hands instinctively covering her stomach—all showed me what a complete and total * I had been.
I was so f*cked.
I didn’t have enough money for rent.
Even after the short relapse, I was still feeling a lot of withdrawal symptoms, both physically and mentally.
I had no trainer.
My head was a f*cking mess.
Tria was gone.
I only really cared about the last one.
Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling above me and tried contemplating nothing. There was absolutely nothing interesting there on the ceiling, but I continued to stare anyway. After a few minutes, my head lolled to one side, and I stared across the floor instead. There was a little cup turned over on its side about a foot from my hand. I reached over, grabbed it, and tossed the cigarette butt into it. There was a hissing sound as it went out along with the slight scent of burning plastic.
On the other side of the cup was the paper sack with the blank book in it. For the sake of something to do, I reached over and pulled it closer. I traced over the fabric cover until I reached the edge. I opened it up and stared at the first empty page.
It stared back at me.
It didn’t take too much looking around on the floor before I found a pen. I tried not to think about how it was probably the one Tria had used recently to work out some statistics for her latest project with Elissa. I placed the pointy end on the paper and stared at it for a minute before I started to write.
I don’t know what the f*ck I’m supposed to do with this.
I sat back a bit and looked at the first line. For some reason, it made me laugh a little.
“What a f*cking mess you are,” I mumbled as I rolled over to my side. I stared at the single sentence a moment longer before tossing the book back to the floor and flinging the pen against the wall.
Amongst the crap all over the floor and the busted coffee table, there was a tube of some sort. I shuffled over a little closer until I could reach it. It was one of the giant tubes of hand lotion Tria always kept in her ridiculous purse, and I had to assume it just fell out when she was leaving. She never would have missed it; she had at least a gross of them in there.
Rolling to my back, I held the tube up in front of my face and flipped it around a couple of times. I twisted the lid off and sniffed at it. It wasn’t scented, though, so it didn’t smell like her. I rolled back to my side and let it drop back to the ground.