Released (Caged #3)(19)

I looked at my jacket, which was lying on the floor in the same spot it had always been before Tria lived with me and made me hang it up. A little knot formed in my stomach again, and I rolled over to the other side so I wasn’t looking at the jacket anymore, but I had a nice view of the bottom part of the couch.

“Fucking pathetic.”

My body was totally worn out, but my mind wouldn’t stop. My eyes burned. I didn’t think I had cried this much since…well, maybe ever. I just needed to sleep. If I could get a few hours, maybe I’d be able to do something with myself.

Maybe a good jerk-off would help. It used to help me get to sleep during occasional insomnia attacks. I didn’t feel particularly horny, though. I never did when I was coming down from H.

I noticed the porn mag I had torn up to crush the rock, and I reached out for it. It was from the previous March—more than a year ago—and had been hanging out under the couch since the summer. It was kind of dusty around the cover, but when I flipped through it, the pages were all okay. Well, except for the one I tore out.

All the chicks had really big tits.

Well, except for one, but she was blonde and really hot.

Still, I flipped through pages with my hand down my sweats, but the moody little bastard had become a lot pickier since Tria came around. He wouldn’t even tease me with a little twitch. I ended up tearing the mag in two and throwing it across the room.

Of course, that just added to the already disastrous mess in the apartment.

I let out a big sigh, shoved myself from the floor, and started picking up the shredded paper. I shoved it all in the kitchen garbage and then came back to the couch to grab the rest of the porn magazines and tossed them out as well. The garbage was pretty full, so I hauled it to the dumpster outside and then replaced the paper grocery sack as a liner inside the can.

I looked back to the living room, sighed, and started filling the can back up again with all the trash lying around on the floor. Once that was done, I flipped the coffee table over and surveyed the damage.

The place was pretty much a wreck. The landlord was not going to be happy about it at all. The coffee table went with the apartment, and though it was still useable, one of the legs was broken. I positioned it so the table didn’t fall over, but if anyone ran into it or tried to move it, the leg would fall off again. If I ever moved out, the landlord would definitely use that as an excuse to keep the deposit.

Starting with the living room, I picked up all the shit on the floor and either threw it out or put it away somewhere. I washed the dishes in the kitchen, wiped down the bathroom surfaces, and stacked all my dirty laundry into a slightly neater pile.

Tria hadn’t taken her vacuum with her, so I used it over all the carpets as I tried to keep my mind from imagining her doing the same thing every Sunday morning after breakfast. In my imagination, she was wearing June Cleaver’s dress and pearls.

I had managed to work up a bit of a sweat while running around, cleaning. The amount of work I had done in a short amount of time was really pretty impressive—for me, at least. I looked around one more time, picked up a couple things I had missed before, dusted the empty blue bookshelf, and then plopped down on the couch.

Okay, so the apartment was now clean. There was something I could check off a list if I happened to have a list.

I looked at the journal again and picked it up. I turned the page and made a list just the way Mom had always taught me to do—with the first item on the list being “make a list,” so there was always something to cross off.

Make a list

Clean the apartment

Make appointment with the head shrinker

Get the psycho prescriptions filled

Talk to Mom

Get my shit together

Get Tria back

Well, it was a decent start, anyway.

I immediately crossed off the first two things on the list, which made me feel good. It was weird how good it made me feel just to cross shit off, but it was like I was actually making steps toward the last one, which was the most important one anyway.

Okay—time to do something about all this.

I eyed the coffee table and then poked around at the busted leg a bit. I was pretty sure if I had the right kind of glue, I’d be able to fix it to the point where no one would notice. I decided to ask Dordy if he might have something like that I could borrow.

I checked the clock. It was really too early to head in to work, but I figured I might as well go. I hadn’t actually talked to Dordy, but even if he didn’t have someone lined up for me to fight tonight, we could always do the impromptu challenge fights with anyone who thought they were up for it. Hell, I could probably spread around the fact that I had been in the hospital and wasn’t up to snuff—it would draw in more challengers.

I was never one to capitalize on an injury, but I had to do what I had to do.





Chapter 6—Hit the Bottom


Walking quickly down the street, I made it to the bar before I was even done with my first cigarette. I sauntered up to the counter and made eye contact with Dordy. He paused while wiping out a glass but only for a moment. Something in his looked definitely put me on edge.

“Hey there, Liam,” he said. His voice sounded…cautious? Something was definitely up.

“Hey, Dordy,” I responded. “How’s everything goin’?”

“Business is good,” he said. His eyes narrowed a bit. “What are you doin’ here?”