Only once my solitude was secure did I lurch to the mirror, look into the crazy eyes of my youth, and come face-to-face with the man who’d destroyed my everything.
I clutched the sink as ghosts I’d long since killed came back to haunt me.
The pain was agonising.
The urge to return to Pim and pin her down terrorising.
My muscles quaked as I held onto the basin, locking myself in place even as my flesh bruised to obey other orders.
Orders to fuck and never stop.
Orders to give in and let go.
The infection turned thicker, louder. Bending in half, I clutched the sink with all my might.
I won’t give in.
I won’t.
I won’t.
But even as I promised myself, I knew it was only a matter of time before I failed. Pim had crossed the line. But I’d sprinted over it. I was so far gone, I couldn’t see who I’d been or how to get back.
Denying my mind the allure of what it most wanted made it hiss and crow and turn to other things. I had no cello. I’d run out of marijuana. There was no reprieve from the ceaselessness inside my head.
Just the knowledge that Pim was outside that door, waiting to spread her legs—
Christ!
I shook harder as things crawled over my hands. Not insects. Not phantoms. Just itches and imaginary filth. But it had to be cleaned. Immediately.
Ripping open the taps, I lathered my hands with soap and washed.
I rinsed.
I washed again.
I rinsed.
I washed again.
One, two, three times.
And once the magical number was met, my thoughts hopscotched to a new one.
The drive for utter cleanliness overrode my teeth-chipping tension for more sex.
I threw myself into it, accepting the lesser of the two evils.
Crashing into the shower, I didn’t wait until the water was warm before hurling myself under the spray.
I never stopped shaking as I palmed handfuls of hotel shampoo and dug it into my scalp.
I rinsed.
More shampoo. More washing. Nails scraping my skin and bubbles stinging my eyes.
I rinsed.
One, two, three times I washed my hair.
The rest of my body was next.
One, two, three towels I used to dry every last droplet.
One, two, three times I brushed my teeth.
One, two, three razors I used to shave.
One, two, three…
One, two, three…
Stop it!
Breathing hard and out of control, I once again bent over the sink and held on as if my life would end if I let go.
Which was true.
The life that I knew and carefully cultivated would be gone if I didn’t find the strength to ignore these awful psyche-bending urges.
I fought the need to wash the basin three times, to cut my nails three times, to rub the foggy mirror one, two, three.
I listened to the noise of numbers and became physically ill trying to fight them. I was microseconds away from tearing from the bathroom and spreading Pim wide.
Every inch of me howled for her. I wanted to be inside her for every goddamn minute of every goddamn day. I needed her more than I needed blood in my heart and oxygen in my lungs.
Stop it!
I clutched my head.
It couldn’t be like this.
I’d had myself under control for years.
I hadn’t had a breakdown since the last heist that made me who I was today.
I needed Selix to bring some weed and for him to remove Pim from my immediate vicinity.
What I needed were the open seas. I needed the waves beneath my feet and open skies upon my face. I needed to be free. I needed to dive into cool water where everything was muted. The ocean was my medicine. And I was in desperate need of it.
All I had to do was get it together, stay the hell away from Pim, and make it until morning when all of this could be over.
It would be the hardest night of my life.
You could be fucking her all night and stop this in the morning.
I’d never heard a better plan.
I spun and had my hand on the door before I understood I’d moved.
No!
Spinning around, I met my eyes in the mirror, and I did something I hadn’t done since my father and brother died.
My eyes misted with furious, panicked tears.
I lied to my reflection. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
But nothing was okay.
And I begged for the sun to rise.
Chapter Thirty-Four
______________________________
Pim
ELDER NEVER CAME back to bed.
I’d waited for him. I’d sat up until my eyes became dry pebbles and the tired scratch made me close them.
I slipped into fitful sleep.
In my dreams, I hated him and ran far, far away.
In my nightmares, I loved him and begged him to stay.
By the time I woke up, I was confused and angry and ready to forget what had happened. I didn’t know if it made me weak or brave, but I was willing to trust him despite the circumstances of last night.
Maybe it was because of last night.