Chapter 11 #2
Micah nods slowly. “You protected her, man. Don’t beat yourself up for that. It’s a tragic reality that I hate seeing play out before me.” He paused, pointing out the window. “Because that girl? She fucking cares for you.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Protected her? Maybe at first. But then the drugs took over. They force-fed me that shit until I couldn’t tell where I ended and this new fucking monster began.
” My hands knot together on the table, knuckles white.
“I stayed with Emma for a while, but I was already halfway gone. She watched me start to rot. Caught me popping oxy just so I wouldn’t shake around her. She knew I was slipping.”
My jaw tightens. “After I left, Adriana made her move. I didn’t fight it.
I was wrecked—heartbroken, high, too numb to care.
So I fucked her. And she’s had her claws in me ever since.
” The words taste like ash. “I haven’t slept with anyone but once with my first girlfriend, then Emma, and then Adriana. Twenty-seven fucking years old.”
Silence stretches between us. My pulse hammers behind my eyes.
Finally, I whisper, “The worst part is...I’d do it all again. Every bit of it. If it meant she’d never see the kind of person I really am.”
Micah sits with that for a long time. Then he exhales softly. “You’re not that person, though, Jude.”
His words don’t reach the decay in my chest. Because I don’t believe him.
Not anymore. I shake my head. “I am. I just watched her cry over me, and the first thing I thought about was how much I wanted to hold her again.” My voice cracks.
“That’s not love, Micah. That’s fucking selfish.
” The words scrape my throat. When I finally look up, his eyes have softened.
“Maybe it’s not selfish,” he says quietly.
“Maybe it’s the last part of you that’s still human.
Hold onto that.” His voice breaks as he leans in.
“I hate what you’ve become, too—but you can’t let them kill you.
That’s what they want, Jude. Your soul. Your heart.
Don’t let them fucking take it. You hear me? ”
I stare down at my coffee. The surface trembles, and my reflection stares back—hollow eyes, bruised skin, the ghost of someone I used to be.
“You don’t either,” I whisper, so softly it barely sounds like words.
Micah nods once. But his eyes tell me everything. He already thinks it’s too late.
Monday morning hits like a migraine that won’t fucking quit. I’m half-dressed and half-alive when Adriana’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain. “We’re going out. Take me somewhere.”
She looks softer today—hair tied up, jeans instead of designer dresses.
Sweet, even. My stomach twists at the observation.
She’s too pretty for what she does, for what she makes me do.
Well, she does to me what Nolan does to her.
It’s a cycle of abuse that stops with me.
She’s never told me the severity of it, but I imagine it’s bad.
Micah groans and buries himself deeper in the blankets.
“Taking an interest in me now, other than my cock?” I mutter, pulling on my hoodie. “Wild of you, Adriana.”
Her mouth snaps shut. The silence is awkward, but I don’t take it back. She follows me into the living room, where I crush some oxy and snort it. As the burn settles, I snatch my keys and step into the partly-cloudy morning.
“You wanna be my girlfriend now or something?” I add, sliding into my matte black Audi R8, the engine growling awake.
“I am your girlfriend.” She exhales, eyes on the window. “And I’m just trying to bring you some kind of relief.”
I swallow. Could make a snide comment. Decide against it. “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll show you around.”
She doesn’t look at me, but a small smile tugs at her lips. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
The closer we get to Seaside, the tighter my chest feels. I used to love this road—windows down, Emma’s laughter, wind tangling her gorgeous brown hair.
At Ecola State Park, the sun burns through some clouds, pouring over the bay. I pay the fee and drive to Ecola Point. Adriana is quiet, probably wondering why I brought her.
I get out and lean against the car, hands shoved into my pockets. The salty wind cuts through my bones, and the ocean glitters below. Adriana steps out beside me, her auburn hair catching the sun.
I pull my hoodie up to avoid attention. She circles and joins me. For a moment, it’s just wind, seagulls, waves. Then she says, “So this is where you grew up? Much nicer than my town.”
I nod, eyes fixed on the horizon. Everything looks like a painting Emma could make. But it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Just a memory someone else lived. “It’s crazy,” I mutter. “How a place can look the same and feel so fucking different.”
Her voice is soft. “What’s the significance?”
I laugh under my breath. “You trying to care now?” I shake my head, jaw tight. “I used to come here when I was lost. When I needed to think.” Half-truth. The rest sits heavy in my chest; she won’t hear it.
Emma loved it here. Blanket on the grass, stealing fries, me playing guitar until my fingers ached. Sitting in the car, her head on my shoulder, watching the sun burn out over the water. One night, late, we made love in the backseat of my old Nissan Xterra.
Adriana leans against me. Every muscle tenses. Her perfume is sweet and heavy. My jaw locks. I want to shove her off. To anyone watching, we look like a couple. But she doesn’t belong here. Not in this memory. Not beside me. Not fucking here.
“I’m sorry,” she says, small.
The words punch me. I turn, glare, chest burning. “No. You’re fucking not.”
She flinches but stays. Wind rises, ruffling her perfectly styled hair.
I head back to the car, and she slides quietly into the passenger seat.
The engine of this car sounds so out of place in this little town.
Wind blows in through the cracked windows as I pull onto the main road.
I may have hit a nerve telling her she didn’t care.
Good. She’s hurt me, used me, broken me. I hope she feels it.
After a long silence, she exhales. “I was recruited, too, you know.”
I laugh bitterly, hands gripping the wheel. “I don’t give a damn, Adriana.” Sharp, shaking voice. “That doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done. I’ve been drugged, assaulted—again and again.”
Her mouth opens, and I cut her off.
“You think being a victim gives you the right to become a monster? To ruin someone else’s life because yours was ruined?” I suddenly veer onto the side of the road and slam it into park, facing her fully. “I would never do to anyone what you and Nolan did to me. Do you fucking understand?”
Her eyes widen, and her throat moves like she’s swallowing something jagged. No smirk, no clever line. Just silence. I don’t care about her “human” moments today. I know what she really is.
I pull back onto the road. “I’m taking us back,” I mutter.
She hesitates. “You don’t always hate it.”
I nearly drive off the fucking cliff. “What?”
“You always come,” she fires back. “If you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t.”
I snort, shaking my head. “I bet they told you that too—because your body responded.”
A sharp gasp leaves her, and she snaps her mouth shut. I need to clench my jaw so I don’t cry. I stare straight ahead, pulse roaring in my ears. “You don’t get to rewrite what you did to me,” I say, voice breaking. “You don’t get to call control consent.”
I hear her breath stutter, but I don’t look at her. My eyes sting, and my grip tightens on the wheel until my fingers ache. Could kill her so easily—but life in prison? Not ideal.
“I’m trapped with you people,” I whisper.
“And the sickest part is that you’ve all convinced yourselves that my slavery is some great, successful thing.
And while I’m digging my goddamn grave here: just because you’re the sole reason for my fucking orgasms for the past seven years, doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. ”
The rest of the drive is silent.