Chapter 23 – Reese #3
I reached into the open drawer and grabbed the kit that held my trimmer, flipping the clasps open.
My hands were trembling so hard that the plastic bits of various sizes went flying into the sink, scattering across the counter, but I didn’t need those.
I picked up the trimmer and plugged it into the wall, then wiped away my stupid fucking tears so I could see myself, set the trimmer to the side of my head, and drew it slowly from front to back.
My hair began to fall away in clumps, and it was so satisfying, watching it go. With every bit of hair that fell to the ground, I felt like I was shaving off a damaged piece of my soul.
Good. I’d shave it all off, until I was nothing but an empty husk. Until there was no way I could ever hurt again. Until there was nothing left of me to hurt.
I’d keep shaving it and shaving it and shaving it until I was gone.
I jumped when my phone started to ring, hissing in pain as the clippers dug into the side of my head right behind my ear.
There’d probably be a bald spot there now.
I turned off the trimmer and followed the sound of my phone, wiping the tears off my face. It was behind my dresser, so I knelt down and reached underneath, pulling it out.
It was an unknown number. Was it Dakota?
I swiped to answer so fast that I cut my finger on the chipped part of the screen.
“Dakota? Is—”
“Hi! This is Susie from National Auto World! We—”
I hung up and dropped my phone onto the bed. I felt like I was losing my goddamn mind.
I returned to the bathroom and stared at my reflection, looking at the shitty buzz job and the thick stripe of longer hair that ran from the center of my forehead to the nape of my neck, like an ugly, pathetic, ratty little mohawk.
I should just leave it like that.
My gaze drifted to the hideous port-wine stain covering my right cheek, and my lip curled. Fucking ugly. That’s all I was now. All I’d ever been.
Ugly, ugly, ugly.
I flipped off the light, dragged my shirt over my head, threw it somewhere near the foot of my bed, then stared at the mess I’d made in the room.
It didn’t feel like enough, but I was exhausted now. I just wanted to lie down and drift away from reality. Even my nightmares would be better than this.
I crawled into bed, every bone in my body feeling like it was made of lead. I turned toward the window, staring out into the darkness. There was no moon or stars tonight, only a black blanket of clouds that I wished I could disappear into.
I wondered if Dakota was afraid, wherever he was, or if he had a light.
Then I cried myself to sleep.
I should’ve worn a jacket. Or a sweatshirt, at the very least. I hadn’t been thinking about the weather or the fact that it was getting late or that I might be too cold.
I hadn’t been thinking much at all today. Hadn’t done much of anything, either. Just lain in bed all day, numb and drained.
It was better than feeling all those riotous emotions from yesterday. I’d much rather be numb than anything else.
I kicked a rock on the pavement and watched it go skittering ahead. There wasn’t much to see in between the street lamps, just darkness and the next light.
A crisp breeze ruffled what hair was left on my head, and I shivered, sticking my hands into my pockets.
After spending the entire day in bed doing absolutely nothing, I’d finally gotten up as the sun was setting. I wanted to get out of that stifling room, to go breathe fresh air instead of all the lingering horrible emotions I’d poisoned the room with.
I didn’t want to feel like I was still waiting for Dakota to return.
I left the dorm and walked and walked and walked without paying attention to where I was going, just letting myself get lost in how good it felt to be outside, to be away from that room. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been walking when I came upon a street of houses that all had Greek letters on them.
I didn’t know Ashbrook had frats; the long row of houses stretched far down the street, and though most were dark and quiet at this time of night, I saw one lit up about a block down. Saw people moving around out front, lights flashing inside. Heard the distant thump of heavy bass.
A party.
A party meant alcohol, didn’t it?
And alcohol meant forgetting.
I walked faster, heading toward all that light and noise.
People were laughing and talking loudly outside when I got there, streaming down the porch steps and overflowing onto the lawn like a waterfall of drunken merriment. The front door was wide open, people going in and out, weaving around each other, cups in hand.
So this was what normal people did? Or people who had some kind of social life.
People who weren’t obsessed with their roommate.
Nobody gave me a second glance as I made my way across the grass, up the steps, through the door.
The only lights inside were set up somewhere I couldn’t see, flashing different colors to the beat of the music, making everyone seem like they were moving in slow motion.
Someone bumped into me, then shouted an apology in my direction.
I weaved my way through bodies toward what I thought might be the kitchen.
There were fewer people here, and three kegs set up.
Someone was pouring drinks from one of them and handing them out, smiling and laughing.
Someone was pouring shots from a row of liquor bottles on the counter.
I walked up to the guy passing out red cups at the keg and he handed me one, his eyes falling to my birthmark.
He gave me an upnod and went back to pouring drinks.
I moved aside to let other people through and chugged the beer as fast as I could, gagged when I reached the foam, then wiped my mouth and got back in line.
When I handed the cup back to the guy, he took it and filled it again with a knowing smile because apparently this kind of behavior was typical at a college party.
A hazy warmth spread through my system, and the numbness that settled over me began to diffuse into a vague sense of bliss.
I wanted more of that. I wanted to drown in that bliss, to go as deep as I could.
After a few beers, I made my way over to the guy pouring shots and had a few of those.
At one point, my phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it and kept drinking.
I was starting to understand why my dad had turned to this. Why he’d chosen to forget over forgiveness. It felt good to forget. Too good.
I had a few more shots, then someone asked me if I wanted to play a game, and I smiled and followed them out of the room.
I hadn’t played any kind of game in a long time.
I let myself sink even further, drift on all that hazy bliss until the voices around sounded like they were coming from the end of a tunnel that I was disappearing into.
I imagined my footsteps echoing softly in the darkness, my hands reaching out in front of me, feeling for obstacles as soothing murmurs floated down to me.
I imagined warmth and a sweet, smoky scent that tickled my nose.
I felt gentle hands caressing me in the dark, lifting me, making me feel like I was flying instead of walking.
I heard music; violins playing a concerto, drifting around me and filling every inch of my being.
I heard my dad’s voice at some point. We all have demons, kid. They just don’t look the same. Mine’s a nasty little bugger with sharp teeth and purple horns. What’s yours look like?
Mine looked like a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy. Mine was more beautiful than any angel, more devious than any devil. Mine was equal parts predictable and confusing. Irrational and overwhelming.
My demon was Dakota Voss, and he frightened me more than death itself.