30
It’s been a little over two weeks since King was admitted, most of that time spent in the hospital for detox.
During the ordeal, I made sure to keep everyone in the loop without revealing the ugly truth.
I called Sister Paula to let her know he was fine, and I kept Yvonne updated by simply saying King was going through a rough time and was a little sick.
I don’t want Yvonne worrying more than necessary, and honestly, I figured it was King’s job to tell his own business.
Nobody knows he overdosed or that he was flying off the deep end here in New York.
It was very… rough.
Not just seeing him die twice in front of me and knowing they had to bring him back two more times after that; it was also having him wake up in the ICU trying to rip off his restraints.
He would yell at the nurses, screaming at the top of his lungs, “I want to go back! I want to go back! Let me leave! Fucking let me leave, you motherfucking bitch!”
He became so aggressive that they had to keep two male nurses on staff for him at all times. King spent half his time groaning and shaking.
“King, it’s okay,” I tried to tell him, reaching out to pet his head, but he would flinch away from my hand.
“Go away! Get the fuck away from me, you evil bitch! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”
Those words were painful.
The nurse told me not to take it personally because his mind was still affected by the remnants of the drug and he was going through several withdrawals at once.
When he finally stabilized and was cleared by the doctors, after MRIs and heart checks, they kept him a little longer to be sure. They told me he has to stay away from alcohol and all substances for a while.
My heart pricks every time I remember how much he freaked out because he didn't want to take his medicine, and I had drugged him that one time.
All the stupid mistakes I made… I wish he had told me how bad it actually was, but that was his business, too.
Why do I ruin everything?
I’m just glad I didn’t give up on him.
Now, we’re finally driving home.
The July 4th celebrations came and went while I sat in that hospital room. I heard the fireworks going off outside and I just stayed with him, day after day, never leaving his side.
There was a little bench in his room where I slept, bringing my own blankets. I even brought him a more comfortable one because he was always shivering. King naturally runs hot, so seeing him whimpering and shivering in his sleep was uncomfortable for me.
While he was out of it, I took it upon myself to bathe him. This whole ordeal made me realize just how much I care for him.
He probably doesn’t remember any of it, but I wiped his ass and helped him with the urinal while he was half passed out. He wanted to stand to pee so badly, but the nurses wouldn't let him get up.
My heart broke as he begged them just to let him stand like a man.
The only time he was allowed to stand was when they changed his gown or helped him walk, just like back in Brackenridge.
I remember holding the urinal for him because of his restraints; he just stared past me like he wanted to be anywhere else, looking helpless and humiliated.
“I’m happy to do this for you, King,” I tried to assure him, but he just closed his eyes and looked away.
It’s like he caved in on himself.
He’s been sleeping more than he probably needs to. He went a little crazy with delirium in the hospital, and though I worried about another episode, the doctor said he was fine.
I’ve been monitoring his blood pressure and heart rate myself, which stays high at times.
They had to give him medicine just to keep him calm.
He barely ate anything and lost a lot of weight.
During his "adventures," it’s clear he mostly just drank and took drugs.
Seeing him helpless like that, foaming at the mouth, is a memory I think will replace the tornado in my nightmares.
I used to fear him running after me with a saw, but now my biggest fear is waking up and realizing he’s dead.
My brain hasn't processed it all yet.
I filled in Kiki and Zuzu, but I’ve called Zosha every single day with no answer.
It’s like she disappeared.
A part of me wondered if King killed her, but I know that can't be true unless she followed him to New York.
From what people said, she was still in Brackenridge the day she went missing while King was high out of his mind here.
There’s no evidence of her leaving town. You can only hide in a town like that for so long.
Then again, King managed it.
My mind is still reeling that she slept with him.
That she thought she was pregnant.
How did that even happen?
He was already spiraling before he left.
I think the worst: what if Zoe is lying dead somewhere because she was pregnant and he rejected her?
Like Jessica, maybe she just gave up.
Jessica taught me that people don’t need that much of a push or a reason for them to give up.
All it takes is a momentary overwhelm of emotion and feeling lost and alone for them to make a split decision that they can never take back.
All it takes is a bad arrangement of hormones and chemicals for your brain to push you over the point of no return and for you to jump in front of a train quick, because you know there's no way you can change your mind.
Or pull a trigger, or lock yourself in a garage somewhere and breathe in the exhaust.
Just fall asleep or take some pills in some warehouse. I mean, there's a million different ways and I never thought that Zoe would be that person, but how else would anyone explain this?
If Zoe was abducted, someone would have seen something.
Honestly, I wonder if Caleb did it.
He was obsessed with her, and I’m the only one who noticed.
Caring can turn into a sickness.
What if he was calling me just to cover his tracks?
He was the last to see her, and even if he’s not in jail, it doesn't mean he didn’t do it.
He's been very close to Zosha as of late, always wanting to be where she is and they're always arguing, and he seemed jealous of King.
All of those things lead to motivation. Zoe also did not return his affections, so…
if anybody should be looked at for the possible disappearance of Zoe, it makes sense that it's Caleb.
He was the last one who saw her outside of Sister Madysen, but out of the two of them, Caleb is the only person who has the most motivation.
A crime of passion, or whatever you want to call it.
He wanted Zoe. I could see it in his eyes, and the guy's weird. Honestly, I don't even want to be associated with him.
But now I’m driving King’s truck all the way back to Tennessee.
He’s over in the passenger seat sleeping.
He’s been sleeping a lot, which is good.
It’s a whole day ride and I’ve had to pull over to rest stops to take a nap, asking him every now and then if he needs to use the bathroom, but the urinal is there with us.
King can get out and walk if he needs to, but I still want to give him the opportunity to pee like a man like he wants.
One of the times we stop by the shoulder, he gets out to pee next to the car.
Honestly, I’m glad to be done with New York. I left the rental car at that old place King had been staying that he broke into so the company could come pick it up.
This whole trip has bled my savings and it’s not cheap filling up this truck. I’m sure King is going to get billed with that gigantic hospital bill. Maybe the church will help pay for it, I don’t know.
I play some soft music, and then I go to the station that he likes with the Christian music.
But as I’m driving, I look over at King on the passenger side seat, the right side of his head leaning over on the window, his eyes open looking at nothing.
For a minute, I freak out thinking that he’s dead, but he blinks.
I turn up the music just a little so he can hear.
“Turn it off,” he says flatly, as if annoyed, not looking at me and not reacting otherwise.
“Are you sure it’s o—”
“Turn… it… off,” he expresses, a little bit angrier, still not looking at me and not moving from his spot.
So I shut off the radio and we just drive in silence.
King seems a lot angrier, irritable, and aggressive. I can only hope that what happened three weeks ago doesn’t happen again. Even now, I can feel his cock inside of me with his forearm pinning me in place, the sound of the saw going right before King in his stupor prepared to kill me.
Like, who the fuck becomes an actual murderer when they’re tweaking?
That drug is evil incarnate, and I have no idea how I’m going to keep him in the house and watch him without any help, because what's to stop him from getting up and leaving again?
I’ll have to hide his keys. I had already checked his truck to make sure he had no more substance in the vehicle or anything; I’m going to have to go ahead in his house and get rid of all the alcohol in there.
There’s a lot of work to do.
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