Released (Caged 3)

That was one of the things that drove Tria away. I ran out on her, which I said I wouldn’t do, and I scared her. I scared her at the time when she needed me the absolute most. She needed me, and I just walked away from her.

No, I didn’t just walk away—I threw a fucking table first.

I wiped tears from my face. I hadn’t realized I had been crying.

In my mind, I could see her face. The details of how she looked when I went ballistic about the news were far clearer than they had been at the time. Her wide eyes, the tears streaming down her face, and the way she jumped back—her hands instinctively covering her stomach—all showed me what a complete and total asshole I had been.

I was so fucked.

I didn’t have enough money for rent.

Even after the short relapse, I was still feeling a lot of withdrawal symptoms, both physically and mentally.

I had no trainer.

My head was a fucking mess.

Tria was gone.

I only really cared about the last one.

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling above me and tried contemplating nothing. There was absolutely nothing interesting there on the ceiling, but I continued to stare anyway. After a few minutes, my head lolled to one side, and I stared across the floor instead. There was a little cup turned over on its side about a foot from my hand. I reached over, grabbed it, and tossed the cigarette butt into it. There was a hissing sound as it went out along with the slight scent of burning plastic.

On the other side of the cup was the paper sack with the blank book in it. For the sake of something to do, I reached over and pulled it closer. I traced over the fabric cover until I reached the edge. I opened it up and stared at the first empty page.

It stared back at me.

It didn’t take too much looking around on the floor before I found a pen. I tried not to think about how it was probably the one Tria had used recently to work out some statistics for her latest project with Elissa. I placed the pointy end on the paper and stared at it for a minute before I started to write.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with this.

I sat back a bit and looked at the first line. For some reason, it made me laugh a little.

“What a fucking mess you are,” I mumbled as I rolled over to my side. I stared at the single sentence a moment longer before tossing the book back to the floor and flinging the pen against the wall.

Amongst the crap all over the floor and the busted coffee table, there was a tube of some sort. I shuffled over a little closer until I could reach it. It was one of the giant tubes of hand lotion Tria always kept in her ridiculous purse, and I had to assume it just fell out when she was leaving. She never would have missed it; she had at least a gross of them in there.

Rolling to my back, I held the tube up in front of my face and flipped it around a couple of times. I twisted the lid off and sniffed at it. It wasn’t scented, though, so it didn’t smell like her. I rolled back to my side and let it drop back to the ground.

I looked at my jacket, which was lying on the floor in the same spot it had always been before Tria lived with me and made me hang it up. A little knot formed in my stomach again, and I rolled over to the other side so I wasn’t looking at the jacket anymore, but I had a nice view of the bottom part of the couch.

“Fucking pathetic.”

My body was totally worn out, but my mind wouldn’t stop. My eyes burned. I didn’t think I had cried this much since…well, maybe ever. I just needed to sleep. If I could get a few hours, maybe I’d be able to do something with myself.

Maybe a good jerk-off would help. It used to help me get to sleep during occasional insomnia attacks. I didn’t feel particularly horny, though. I never did when I was coming down from H.

I noticed the porn mag I had torn up to crush the rock, and

I reached out for it. It was from the previous March—more than a year ago—and had been hanging out under the couch since the summer. It was kind of dusty around the cover, but when I flipped through it, the pages were all okay. Well, except for the one I tore out.

All the chicks had really big tits.

Well, except for one, but she was blonde and really hot.

Still, I flipped through pages with my hand down my sweats, but the moody little bastard had become a lot pickier since Tria came around. He wouldn’t even tease me with a little twitch. I ended up tearing the mag in two and throwing it across the room.

Of course, that just added to the already disastrous mess in the apartment.