Obsessed

by NJ Flatman

  “I was fine,” arguing was pointless, but stubborn pride always won. “You don’t need to be worried about me.”

  “If that is your idea of fine, I’d fucking hate to see what you consider bad,” holding the bottle up to his lips, Luke took a sip of the beer before he continued. “You’re starting to scare the hell out of me babe.”

  “Jesus,” I stood and walked towards the fridge to grab my own bottle. “Miss one little piece of ass and you have to start acting like the god damned world is ending.”

  “Oh I had the piece of ass a couple times,” he chuckled, swigging his beer again. “I just wasn’t ready to call it quits.”

  “Whatever Luke,” I rolled my eyes and walked towards the couch this time. Being too close to him was starting to piss me off. “I was fine.”

  “You haven’t been fine since I met you,” words that I didn’t appreciate much reminded me of my situation. “This was worse than I’ve ever seen you.”

  “It was hot in the god damned apartment,” I argued for the tenth time that day alone. “I was fucking hot. And then ….”

  “And then what?” his head peeked around the corner, eager to hear the part I hadn’t shared.

  “I was drinking,” I only told part of the truth. “Fuck, can’t a girl get sick from the heat without everyone calling in the National Guard?”

  “Of course,” he shrugged. “Except that it wasn’t even sixty degrees in the apartment when I got here.”

  “God, you sound like him,” I picked up my phone hoping he’d take it as a cue to shut the hell up.

  “There are some cases when I actually agree with the golden boy,” taking a seat on the couch that was a little too close for comfort, Luke finally asked what I’d been waiting on for three days. “So, what happened when the two of ya’ll were alone?”

  “Nothing,” shrugging, I lied to my only real friend. “At least nothing important.”

  “So you both sat here silently?”

  “Of course not,” the look I shot in his direction made it very obvious I wasn’t thrilled to continue the conversation. “Same bullshit different day Luke. He loves me. He wants me back. He’ll never leave again. Only he threw in a lot of parenting as well. You don’t need to drink that. You aren’t looking good. Is everything okay? Seems to be the going thing.”

  “The nerve of people that care about you!” Luke mocked a shocked expression as he talked. “How dare they worry when you aren’t okay?”

  “I was fine,” I said yet again. “Fucking drop it.”

  “Consider it dropped,” he shrugged. “But if you’d ended up at the hospital…”

  “You ever fucking take me to the hospital and when I get out, I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to you.”

  “Is that all it takes to get you near my dick babe?” his shaggy blond hair bobbed as he laughed. “I might chance it hoping that you’ll decide to play with it instead.”

  “You’re a pig,” pulling the bottle to my lips, I closed my eyes and tried not to think too much into what he’d just said.

  “Oink oink sweetheart,” a quick look in his direction garnered me a wink and a smile. “But I bet you’d enjoy my sausage!”

  “God help me,” closing my eyes again, I tried to drown out his words with pretty much anything else.

  Sometimes it was hard to hide the smile that almost came when he teased like that. No, he didn’t stand a chance in hell with me. Had he ever pushed the issue beyond words, I’d have probably been uncomfortable being around him. He didn’t. Because of that, it was almost comical when he’d joke. Thankfully he didn’t share those jokes when Spencer was around.

  Luke’s personality won him friends often. He had the ability to joke about virtually any topic at any given time. People either loved or hated him. I was somewhere in the middle. He made life a little more fun at the moment, but I hated that it was him doing it and not the one I wanted to be there. Of all the people I’d never expect to stick around it’d have been the drug guy from the house parties. Yet he’s the one that stayed through the worst of me.

  Sometimes I wished I had the ability to be attracted to him. I wanted to want him. Not because there was something special about him, but more because he wanted me so badly. He took care of me. He made sure I was okay without fail. And there was the fact that he knew who I was and what I enjoyed and still loved me. Spencer would never be able to do that.

  If he’d known — if he found out — he’d never look at me the same again. That’s why I kept it from him. I was okay with my choices, but I wasn’t going to try and explain them to someone else. Especially when that someone was the reason I’d started to begin with.

  I couldn’t picture Mr Goody Two shoes caving to drugs to cope. Hell, the alcoholic mother had ensured her son would be against any type of fun. It would only make him view me as weak— something I most certainly was not. Spencer preferred to run away from any potential problems and a need for anything chemical would imply he intended to face and deal with them. Or at least acknowledge them and stick around. Not something he was going to do.

  Shit, he’d not even stuck around for a fucking kiss. What the hell had that mess been anyway? He’d damn near given me a heart attack grabbing and pulling me like he did. I’d heard of those kinds of men, but Spencer had never been one. Demanding. Forceful. I’d never been more aroused in my life and he fucking bailed. Such a typical Spencer move. Get right to the good part and run and hide.

  Of course, he didn’t know what would happen after. Hell, I didn’t know. By the time Luke had gotten to the apartment, I was a worse mess than the day I’d shown up at his door. A faded memory of the look on his face lingered in my mind. Luke was scared and that didn’t happen very often. Thinking back, it was hard to really understand the way that night had played out.

  Once Spencer closed the door and I realized he wasn’t joking, my body wanted to collapse. The pain of being rejected yet again consumed me. But I couldn’t move. My limbs were like lead weights, keeping me locked into that position for what felt like hours but was likely only moments. Even breathing was a chore. Once again he had played with my feelings for him, only now I had nothing to help numb it.

  Eventually stumbling my way to the couch — a mere inches from where I’d stood— I crumbled into a heap of nothingness. Memories of Spencer flooded my mind. Touching me and making love to me. Kissing me and holding me. For a moment I could almost feel his skin and smell his cologne. It was more than I could handle. The very thing I’d been trying to avoid all along was catching up to me and the way I felt in that moment told me it just might kill me.

  He’d never been like that before. It was something I’d actually put thought in to a time or two. Looking at him, anyone would assume that’s exactly who he was. Assertive, aggressive and powerful generally went along with men that looked like Spencer. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was the total opposite. Considerate. Caring. Shy. Sometimes even awkward. Never like that. Had he changed too?

  Even as I lie there crumbling, I couldn’t quite get past the way it’d made me feel. I liked it, though the irony wasn’t lost of me. Naive and innocent I’d fallen head over heels for the sweet and shy guy. Now that I’d become stronger and tougher, my body responded faster to the masculine and powerful Spencer. It’s like no matter what happened in our lives or how different we became, our souls were still drawn together. Even if it meant changing ourselves to make it work. We were two different pieces destined for the same puzzle . If our story hadn’t been such a tragic mess, the picture we created would be the ideal of romance. A flame so strong that even the roughest storm couldn’t put it out.

  The sun began to set and darkness filled the apartment. It would have to stay that way. Any desire to move had been lost the moment I’d made it to the couch. Deja vu. I felt much the same as I had that first morning. Trapped in this apartment, unable to move or breathe, trying to understand why he’d left.

  Only this time the heat in here was damn near unbearable.
Even with windows open, I felt as though I were going to suffocate. The hotter it got, the less oxygen I felt like I was taking in. My breathing was shallow— labored. What little bit of clothing I was wearing was drenched in sweat and clung tightly to my body.

  I’d had no intentions of caving to his games and pretty words. In fact, I’d spent much of my time ensuring that it wouldn’t happen. No way was he going to sucker me back in with promises that he couldn’t keep.

  But when I’d felt the tug of my hair and he’d pulled me to him, my body betrayed me. The entire previous six weeks went flying out the window. The moment he’d been close enough that I felt his breath against my skin, I knew I’d do any damn thing he wanted me to— regardless of the pain it could cause me.

  Curling my knees up to my chest and lowering my head to meet them, I hated him. I hated him for reigniting that ache and longing only to turn and walk away. I hated him because I wanted him. I hated him because he didn’t give me what I wanted. I hated him for coming over. I hated him for leaving.

  Lying there, succumbing to the heartache I’d tried desperately to avoid, small pieces of me began to die. I’d never intended to lose myself completely. For damn near two months I’d been able to juggle. The person I had been and the person I’d become both existed inside of me. I couldn’t do it any longer. Holding onto remnants of the old Avery only led to watching her shatter into pieces from pain and darkness. Over and over again, she was brought to her knees and left there. This time damn near literally.

  It was time for her to go away completely. Only then would I ever be free.

  Spencer had always been the only man I’d desired. The only one I wanted. From the day I’d met him, no other man had truly existed in my mind. He’d spent so much time worrying about Luke that it didn’t cross his mind. I could have been standing in a room full of Abercrombie models and the only person I’d even notice would be him. Yet each and every time, he’d choose to hurt me.

  I wanted to take off the clothes that confined me so that I could cool off, but I could barely move. Everything was sore and heavy. My arms and legs felt like lead. Muscles in my body cramped and ached. I wasn’t sure if I actually could move because I wasn’t willing to try. Hoping that if I stay still for a while the feeling would pass, I kept getting lost in the memories that tore me apart.

  The tears were uncontrollable. More than once I wished that my ability to cry had been impacted half as much as my ability to do anything else. I was tired of crying over Spencer Phillips. He didn’t deserve my tears if he was going to keep putting them there.

  I couldn’t make sense of my thoughts. They were scrambled and all over the place— only a portion of them even rational. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d teeter in and out of memories and feelings about Spencer, alternating them with sickness and worry about how I was feeling.

  A short movement is all it would have taken to grab my phone and I couldn’t do it. A quick call to Luke and he’d come and make sure I was okay— which I wasn’t so sure of anymore. In fact, I was confident I was dying. That phone call could be all that saved my life. Yet, I couldn’t move enough to get to the phone.

  Instead I had my own mental pity party. Spencer would always play one game or another. Cat and mouse. The chase. Worse yet, cat and string. That’s what it was.

  Humans love to tease cats. They will sit there and dangle string above them, just baiting them to reach for it with their paws. When the cat did just that, the human would pull the string away and laugh. The string was never going to be caught. Someone else was holding it and controlling what happened. Yet even knowing that it always led to disappointment, the damn cat would still try again the next time.

  Spencer was the human. Constantly holding that string above me, begging me to get it. I’d fight it and try to ignore it— so he’d work harder. Just as I about grabbed it, he’d pull the damn thing away and laugh. It was cruel and it was painful, but it just kept happening.

  What made it worse was knowing that I was lying there heartbroken yet again, and the very next time I saw that string, I’d paw at it until it disappeared— always hoping the end result would change.

  I needed a hit. I had to numb the feelings and it’d help to ease the pain in my muscles. I didn’t need much. It wasn’t like I had to have it. I just needed a little bit. Enough to help relax me and help me break free from the chains of depression that were taking hold.

  All I had was beer and even if I could move to the kitchen, it’d be a bad idea. Drinking wouldn’t help. It’d bring me further down, if I could stomach it. The nausea that was creeping in made even the thought sound unsettling.

  Luke would help. He’d be mad at me for already doing it all, but he’d help. He always helped me and sometimes I wasn’t sure why. I just had to get to the phone. It wasn’t far away, but even the few feet seemed impossible.

  That was what had happened. I had leaned towards the coffee table in the hopes of getting to the phone and that’s when the vomiting had started. Violently, my body heaved only to discover I hadn’t eaten enough to really produce anything. So instead I would gag and heave with an impending feeling of death only to do it again in a few seconds.

  Briefly I was convinced that I was going to die in a shitty apartment, on that dingy couch, and in a pool of vomit. Worse, they’d test me and find heroin in my system and assume that I’d killed myself with it. I could only imagine the humiliation on my parents’ faces. I knew she didn’t need to live in the city. Poor Avery, she was always so lost. This is what happens when you don’t settle down and become responsible. Drugs? Of all things, I can’t believe our Avery did drugs. She was always such a good girl. They’d resent me forever for putting them into those conversations.

  My parents loved me and they’d always been good to me, but impressions were everything. Their Avery was never supposed to head into the trash that was the city and end up a drug addict. Let alone dead.

  Again the heaving started, only my body had decided itching should go with it. So I’d drift in and out of consciousness, alternating between vomiting and clawing bruises around my body. As little as I remember, I do know that it was the most miserable experience that I’d ever known in my life— far outweighing the day Spencer had left. At least then I’d had control of myself in some way.

  Teetering between reality and dreams only fucked my mind up worse than it was. There were moments where I’d see Spencer and we’d be talking and then I was lying in the dark remembering that he’d left me to die. I couldn’t be sure at any given moment what was really happening. Even moving my head felt like an Olympic sport, but it was required unless I wanted to vomit on myself.

  Hearing Luke’s voice had brought me back to reality somewhat, but seeing his face had terrified me. He wanted to take me to the hospital. Fear was in his voice as he kept repeating that he shouldn’t have left me alone. The only other words I could remember from that night were “Did you overdose?”

  Luke had believed in my self-control so much that he’d never even entertained the idea that I was going through withdrawal symptoms. After all, he left me enough to last until he came back. Why would he assume that I’d used it all in the first day?

  Well, I could say that, but how could he not assume that when he’s the one telling me all the god damned time that I had a problem. There was no problem. It’d been hot and miserable. I’d been alone. I’d done more than I meant to in a faster amount of time. I needed to sleep. I needed to rest without the fucking movie playing in my mind. I needed to sleep when it was too hot to sleep.

  Doing that much and stopping suddenly was bound to cause some issues. That didn’t mean I had a problem. Of course as I lie on that couch, drifting in and out of reality and soaked in sweat and vomit, you’d be hard pressed to convince Luke it wasn’t an issue— a truth he still believed. I guess I couldn’t blame him for not going to withdrawal as first conclusion. It hadn’t been my initial thought either.

  Barely coherent, I’d been unab
le to directly answer questions with any information but staying awake to listen had lasted longer. Yes or no was about as far as I could go which also scared Luke. Finally he’d learned that I’d been without all day. His first idea was that we’d let it run its course. I was already in the worst of it, so why not let it finish.