Chapter 2
SOREN
Parker is gone for a full minute before I can move, but mercifully, the hall stays empty this time.
None of the other guys have a reason to be here.
Shaking, I make my way to my bedroom. The apartment my brother and I share is destroyed and has been since she left.
If he did it to punish me, he failed on this one.
I really don’t care. Once inside my room, I lock the door.
Pain, betrayal, and hatred so deep I can’t bear it all run through me.
I had ended things with Arabella a hundred times over, but there was a time I believed she had feelings for me.
It’s clear now that she only ever used me because sharing that video was so sick it could only be something you would do to an enemy.
The video is deleted from my phone, but even alone with myself, I still hear my own grunts.
“Fuck!” I scream, digging into my hair as if I could remove the memories from inside.
I’m a caged animal, left alone by my keepers.
I pace the room, a fire burning under my skin.
Every single person who would want to help me is gone.
She made sure I lost everyone. I showered after what she did to me, but I haven’t climbed back in for days.
Turning the water on as hot as possible, I scrub every inch of my skin until it’s raw.
There’s no improvement. This isn’t the type of dirt you scrub off.
My phone buzzes, and rather than ignoring it as I had been, I open it immediately, fearful there’s more to be seen. Instead, it’s a text from my father. He must have realized I won’t be joining them for Christmas. Dammit.
Dad: Your brother is going to get his act together, or he’s going to learn a very hard lesson. I’m sending Dr. Gallows to give you a physical. You fucked the girl in that video without a condom.
My father raised me to be the perfect avatar for the Rook brand, and that has never mattered to me.
For the first time, I’m ashamed of my image, ashamed that my father saw the video.
A fucking condom. How long did he watch to notice I wasn’t wearing one?
For the first time in a long time, my thoughts turn to permanent escape.
I don’t want to be in this body anymore or feel the way I do.
My head is so fucked up lately, I didn’t even notice I wasn’t wearing a condom.
Maybe I should cut off my own dick rather than peeling off my skin.
There has to be some distraction, anything that can stop the screaming.
The TV won’t cut it, I can’t go on social media after today’s text, and no one would pass the time with me other than my rapist. Hours pass in a slow torture until finally someone knocks.
I’m excited for half a second before I remember what my father said.
I don’t rush as I head to the door, and that’s for the best because when I open the door, I find it’s Dr. Gallows.
He looks quite different from the man I’ve known for years, but I guess he’s getting older now. He’s not our normal family physician, but he comes around for more sensitive issues.
“Soren?” he asks, brow arching, wondering why I’m not letting him in.
“Of course. Sorry, Dr. Gallows.” I step to the side in invitation.
The newcomer forces me to look at this place with fresh eyes, and the mess suddenly looks a lot worse.
I worry how much that says about my mental state as I lead him to the common area.
My once pristine shelves are knocked onto the floor, pages ripped and scattered across the space.
Orion can really get on a tear when he’s upset.
“How are you feeling?” he asks with a pointed look around.
“I’m fantastic. Is that all you needed?” He eyes me with pity rather than annoyance, and that’s almost as bad as knowing people are still watching that damn video.
“No, first this,” he says as he hands me a cup, asking for my piss.
I nod and move to the bathroom, quickly getting it over with. When I return, he’s already set up his paraphernalia on the table and is waiting for me with a syringe in hand. I dutifully sit and quietly wait as he takes my blood.
“How long has this been going on?” he asks when the needle pierces my skin.
I don’t answer, as putting words to it makes it real.
Sable has been gone for three days. He hums in understanding at my silence, and I look away, craving the loneliness I hated a few minutes before.
He puts a cap on the vial, removes the needle, and then starts touching different spots on my neck and face.
His touch sends chills down my spine and makes me shiver.
I don’t like people touching me anymore.
He seems to notice my reaction but says nothing.
Dr. Gallows works in silence, and I try to hide how much this bothers me. He finishes, picks up a notepad, and writes a few things down before shoving everything back in his briefcase. The blood and piss rest in a cooler, and he pats himself down to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
“I think I have everything I need,” he says, and it’s the first real relief I’ve felt in days. I stand to show him the way out, and he thrusts a pill bottle in my hands.
“Take them,” he says. “They should help.” His eyes trail the space, and his judgment is as bad as his touch.
“What are they?” I ask, wondering if the diseases she gave me are advanced enough to see without getting the tests back.
“Something to make you feel better.” His eyes trace the room and finally land on me. I obviously look worse than I thought.
My eyes narrow on him as I consider what he’s saying. The pill bottle in my hand doesn’t have a label, so he must have come prepared with them.
“So you’re a drug dealer now?” I ask, remembering all the times I’ve seen him over the years. He’s never shown up for anything that wasn’t a secret, has he?
He laughs and starts for the door. “That attitude will get you in trouble around here.”
“Will the pills fix my attitude?”
My father always warned me not to dull my senses for any reason.
Sure to remind me that people would exploit any weaknesses I had.
I’ve never willingly given myself one before, other than Sable, and look how that turned out for me.
When you’re a Rook, everyone is watching, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
I was five when he said that for the first time, and since then, I have lived in a constant state of awareness, always looking over my shoulder.
Part of me hates to admit that he was right by any account, but look what happened when I wasn’t vigilant enough.
“I’m a general doctor and a psychiatrist, and I’m well within my license to provide them to you,” he says, ignoring my question and taking on an air of offense that feels as fake as his dead eyes.
My gaze drops to the small bottle in my hands.
There’s nothing on the label, definitely not my name.
I’m not fully sure I believe that he can prescribe this to me because he still won’t tell me what they are.
“Will they fuck me up?” I ask, deciding I don’t have the energy to beat around the bush.
“Not if you take them as directed.”
His answer makes me realize I’m disappointed.
I can’t live inside myself for a second longer, and if I learned anything from that video, it’s that sometimes forgetting is for the best. I spent days chasing the truth lost in the blank spots of my memories, needing to understand.
Yet the reality was so disgusting that it only made me crave the blissful darkness.
“Fine,” I agree, popping open the bottle and taking the first one with no water.
Dr. Gallows nods, satisfied. “Let me know when you need more. Your father said he’ll pay for anything you need.”
The puppet string tugs my arm, and it’s too late when I realize I’ve given my father power. He has my blood, piss, and now a few of my secrets too.
“Don’t bother my father. I have the money to pay you myself,” I say.
“Is that so?” he asks with his eyebrow raised.
“Yes. Keep this between us, patient confidentiality or whatever.”
He smiles, and I’m not sure I trust it. I feel a little tug, reminding me that I’ll eventually have to dance for this. “Have a good night, Soren,” he murmurs as he closes the door behind him.
A light sense of calm comes over me as I sit there. True to his word, I don’t feel fucked up taking them as directed. Something dark inside me urges me to see how it would feel if I took another, and it doesn’t take me long to decide it doesn’t matter if I do. This one has a much stronger effect.
My vision blurs a little at the edges, but the room is more colorful without all the misery weighing me down.
Warmth spreads into my chest for the first time in a while.
All those awful feelings that have kept me captive in my bed and this trashed suite ease until they’re eventually nothing.
The internal screaming stops for the very first time, and I indulge in the absolute selfishness of not thinking about my biggest mistakes.
Head hanging back, I get comfortable in the middle of the wreckage, as if I’m innocent and I can indeed have a good fucking night.
It doesn’t get good, but I don’t think about Arabella even once, or the fact that Sable is missing, as I float into nothingness.