Step One: Psychologist.
Step Two: Holistic remedies for sleep.
Step Three: Stop with the stupid nightmares.
Step Four: Promotion.
Step Five: Stop thinking about the damn man at the coffee shop….
Step one hadn’t helped a damn thing, so I was attempting step two tonight. The elderly pharmacist at the store across the road suggested a cocktail of Melatonin, Magnesium, and all the vitamin B complex I could stand. The bottles sat in a neat row on my small kitchen island, staring me down like soldiers ready for battle.
With any luck, steps one and two would help with step three. And as far as the promotion, Harry was on my side.
But step five…
I couldn’t stop thinking about the stranger at the café and his bright eyes that seemed to pierce right through my heart. He was so handsome it almost hurt. And yet, the dangerous vibe he gave off… “we” would never happen. Who was to say he was even looking atme? I was so tired, he could’ve been looking at his girlfriend behind me, or another client—did dealers call their buyers clients?He could’ve even been looking at the menu, for fuck’s sake.
I cupped my face in my hands, resting my elbows on the countertop. I was officially losing it. The strongest drug I’d ever taken were the prescription sleeping pills, and I’d only swallowed them out of desperation. And you couldn’t count the wine, because alcohol was legal. I was pretty sure whatever he was giving out in those tiny baggies wasn’t something I could buy at the corner liquor store.
Get your act together, Blaire.
I hadn’t dragged myself out of the mud for nothing. Without looking at the dosage labels on the bright, white,legalbottles, I flipped open the lid and threw a few pills in my mouth at once, washing them down with a glass of water. They were just vitamins. Too many of them couldn’t hurt.
Rinsing out my glass and setting it to dry, I wiped a stray water droplet on the counter. Satisfied, I began the reverse of my routine.
Living room. Hallway. Kitchen. Bathroom. Bedroom. Bed. Sleep.
A bathroom that didn’t exist, covered in blood.
Someone was crying.I didn’t think it was me. Maybe it was.
I touched my face, and my fingertips came away wet. When I looked down at my hands, they were red. I wasn’t crying. It was blood.
My lungs froze, mid-breath, a shock of electricity racing from my spine to my feet.
Breathe in.
My heart rattled in its bone cage, demanding to be let out. The edges of my vision closed in, narrowing down to just a tiny view in front of me.
Breathe out.
I was in a movie I didn’t want to be in. I wantedout. But the crying wouldn’tstop, and my hands were so hot and sticky, and fury ran thick in my veins. My heartbeat flashed in front of my eyes, my tiny lens narrowing even more.
The crying trailed off into a quiet sob. I turned to follow the sound. A man lay slouched on the stained wooden floor, gripping his side. Blood stained the pale button-up shirt he wore, and even I knew any attempt to stop the bleeding was futile. He was losing too much too quickly.
He pulled his eyes off his wound, and fear flickered across his face as he met my gaze. Another tear dripped down his cheek as he shook his head. “No, please. Please. I didn’t know.”
AndIdidn’t know what he was talking about. I didn’tcarewhat he was talking about. My pulse thrummed, a backbeat Ididn’t know existed, and for a moment I forgot I wanted to leave the dream. Right now, I wanted revenge.
A beat of anger. A flood of desperation.
I didn’t know what he had done. I just knew he deserved to be lying in a pool of his own blood. Stepping forward, I considered my options, ignoring the way he pulled away from me the best he could with his broken body. I could leave him. He would bleed out on his own soon enough, slumping with unseeing eyes on the floor. I could.
“I swear, I didn’t know,” he pleaded, the crying starting all over again.
That fuckingcrying, though. God, it was annoying.
Closing the distance between us, I pressed the gun to his forehead and smiled.
