Trapped (Caged #2)(65)

Fuck.

I reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. The door to our apartment wasn’t completely shut, and I silently berated myself for not closing it all the way when I ran out so quickly. Tria would have been completely vulnerable without the door being locked and me gone.

In the back of my mind, the sharp crack of the door slamming behind me as I left echoed, but I didn’t think much of it.

I reached out and pushed at the door. I was immediately bombarded with the mess I had made on my way out. The coffee table was still upside down, and most of the crap that had been on it was now on the floor. Tria had apparently picked up her school stuff, but my stuff was all over the place.

With slumped shoulders, I looked cautiously into the kitchen and wondered how bad she was going to cuss me out. I deserved it. Actually, I wasn’t sure she could say anything to me that wouldn’t have been less than I deserved. Maybe I could beat her to the punch, though. I knew how badly I had f*cked up, but the shock of it all was just too much.

It was still too much.

She wasn’t in there though the light above the sink was still on. Tria was kind of nuts about turning off all the lights before going to bed, which just made me feel like a bigger shit. I had obviously upset her so much she wasn’t even keeping her normal routines.

I glanced toward the bathroom, but the door was open and no one was inside. The bedroom door was slightly closed, so I took a deep breath to prepare myself and then went inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I wondered if I would get lucky enough to have her sleeping soundly. That way I could at least put this shit off until morning.

I was really f*cking tired.

Listening closely, I tried to hear how steady her breathing was, but I heard nothing.

I moved cautiously around to her side of the bed, reached my hand out, and felt nothing but cold sheets. I grabbed for the light on the nightstand and flicked it on.

She wasn’t there.

Adrenalin pumped into my system as I reached down and pulled at the bottom dresser drawer—the one I had cleaned out for Tria’s things the first day she moved in, the one that then stood empty until we came back from Beals and Tria finally unpacked. It was the day she decided she was going to stay with me long-term and not continually think I was going to send her away.

The drawer that was empty now.

“No,” I whispered.

I raced around the room, searching for something of hers, but there was nothing. Her clothes were gone. Even the little basket where she kept her dirty laundry was gone. I ran out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, but there was no bright green toothbrush next to my red one in the cup.

In the kitchen, there were only the few dishes I had before she moved in with me. The bottle of apple juice she always had in the fridge was gone, and the little tan mug with the moose on it was no longer sitting to the left of my plain, black coffee cup.

I stood at the center point of the apartment where I could see into the kitchen and living room easily but also had a view of the bathroom and bedroom doors. I looked quickly at each area of the living space I had shared with Tria, and then my gaze landed on the little blue bookshelf in the corner of the room, which was completely empty.

My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees.

She was gone.

I was never one to completely break down, but I couldn’t stop the tears.





Chapter 18—Inject the Poison


I turned the apartment upside down trying to find something—anything—she had left behind that she might have to come back to get. Then I spent about five minutes just smashing shit in the kitchen. After that, I took a shower in the hope that it was going to calm me down, but I was only reminded of how often I used to jerk off in the shower, and how I didn’t have to anymore.

Except that I did, because she was gone.

Punching the tiles of the shower really, really hurt. I tried to focus on the pain in my knuckles, and even hit the tile a couple more times until one of my hands started bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. I had the feeling I could have thrown myself out the window, broken every bone in my body, and then been run over by a truck, and it still wouldn’t be enough to make me stop thinking.

Soft, brown hair that always ended up tickling my nose in the night.

The way her hips moved back and forth when she was cooking.

The scent of her skin after I f*cked her.

I turned most of the furniture upside down or threw it against the wall. With a scream, I yanked the top two drawers out of the dresser and flung them to either side of me, dumping the contents all over the floor. I smashed the television, ripped the cushions off the couch, and grabbed the bookshelf.

I was about to smash it to pieces, but I just couldn’t.

I dropped down to the floor in the middle of the living room and stared at carpet fibers for God knows how long as I tried to just force the shit out of my head. I was good at that, and it should have worked, but it didn’t. I stared at the smashed television screen, but I ended up with my head full of movies and TV shows Tria and I had watched together.

My jacket was on the floor within reach, so I grabbed it and pulled out a pack of smokes. I smoked half the pack sitting there, but I just ended up in a coughing fit and remembered how Tria came to the bar just to bring me my cigarettes.

She doesn’t even like that I smoke.

I leaned my back against the couch and lit another cigarette, but then I forgot I was holding it and burned the shit out of my leg. Focusing on that kind of helped a little, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed something that was going to take all the painful memories away.