A drug addict.
A whore.
A thief and dealer.
For five years I’ve rotted from the inside out, becoming hollow and empty, only letting in those more vile than me. The ones hell bent on corrupting me or breaking me completely.
If she knew who I really was, she’d hate me just as much as I hate myself.
“Just stay the fuck away from me, Amber. You’re not welcome in my life anymore.”
Then I’m gone, my feet moving from a slow stride to straight up running, holding onto the contents of my pockets with everything I have as everything inside me breaks.
She just had to come back…
What’s next?
Wesley riding in on a goddamn white horse?
I shudder at the thought, knowing damn well that seeing him again will only result in me losing my head even more. If seeing Amber dismantled me, seeing Wesley will cause a spiral I won’t be able to shake.
I actually thought I saw him the other day. A few weeks before this, sitting on a bike across the street from Moseley’s office, watching me walk down the same street I almost got busted on.
I could’ve sworn I heard the dude shout my name, but I wasn’t about to give in to that fever dream. If it was Wesley, there was no way in hell I was going to let him see me like this, so I ran, and he didn’t follow me.
My Wesley would’ve followed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Voorhees
I’ve dreamt about Poppy more times than I can count. Ever since I saw that girl on the road, the one who ran the second she saw me after calling out her name, I can’t shake these stupid thoughts about her.
She’s slowly killing herself.
Whatever drugs she’s taking, they’ve changed her. She’s no longer the bright-eyed, mousy bookworm of my dreams. She’s hollow and frail, a mere shell of the woman who I grew up chasing.
It's why I've been out here every day looking for her, hoping that by some chance, I’ll run across her again. And the one other time that I did, it wasn’t pretty.
The last time I saw her she looked horrible. Nothing but skin and bones. I followed her after I saw her leaving one of the buildings owned by Moseley and forced her to talk to me.
What came after has haunted me since that day…
“Poppy!” I shouted after her.
Her pace increased, racing to get up the street before I could catch up to her. She had done that before, and managed to getaway, but not this time. I won’t let her keep hiding from the world like she has.
“Poppy, stop!” I ordered, grabbing her by the hoodie and ripping her backwards.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” she screamed, whipping around to face me with bloodshot eyes that were way too sunken in, and a look so damn empty it was alarming. She stared at me like she had no clue who I was, and that scared the fuck out of me.
“Poppy, it’s me. It’s Wesley,” I shouted as her fists came down on me. Each hit lacked any kind of strength. Hell, I could feel her body beneath her hoodie. Every bone stuck out of her skin like she barely ate anything. She was so skinny. Too damn skinny.
“I know who you are,” she seethed. “Go away, Wesley, I don’t need your help.”
“Like hell you do. Have you looked in the mirror? What’s wrong with you? What kind of drugs are you doing now?”
Tears appeared in her eyes. “Any that will make the world fade away.”
