Page 17 of Requiem
And anger flares inside me. “How?” The word comes out harsh. “How the hell do you love him after what you did to him? That’s not fucking love, Adriana. That’s an abused piece of shit getting abused by a piece of shit who turns around and abuses an innocent person! You’re a fucking abuser. That’sit. There’snothingredeemable about youat all.”
She sniffs, tears spilling over with no attempt to stop them. “I told him everything.”
That throws me for half a second. “I genuinely don’t give a single fuck, Adri.”
“I told him,” she repeats, the last word shattering into a sob. “I told him what I did. I apologized.” Her hands shake slightly where they’re wrapped around the mug. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know it doesn’t erase it. I used him to get out of my life, and I hurt him doing it. There’s no excuse for that.Trust me,I’m coming to terms with it myself. He never told me he forgave me, and that’s okay. He nevershouldforgive me, Micah, I’m a monster. I’m to him what Nolan was to me in that regard.”
Her voice drops.
“I hate myself for it.”
“Yeah, you should.” The anger doesn’t disappear, but it complicates. I know she was being abused by Nolan. Logically, it makes sense that she’d claw for joy somewhere else. Hell, I did that the moment Heather came into my life, regardless of the fact that at the time, I was a piece of shit. But I wasn’t about to deny myself something so beautiful and pure. I guess we’re all ten levels of fucked up in that way. But it doesn’t make it fucking okay. Jude and I never hurt anyone like that. She put him through so much towards the end. The earlier years weren’tsobad, but the more depressed and into drugs he became, the more she demanded the attention that he suddenly stopped giving her. She wouldtakeit, instead of him offering it freely. He tried getting over Emma by acting boyfriend with Adriana for a while. But it never really worked.
“Just don’t get in his head. He loves Emma,” I mutter, making the disgust in my expression obvious. “He hates you. Always has.”
“I know that,” she whispers, ignoring my dig at her. “Don’t tell anyone. Please. It’s not like I can ever have a future with him after everything I’ve done.”
I clench my jaw. “You’re correct for once.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and this time it’s quieter. “For what happened to him. For what I’ve done to you. I’m sorry, Micah. Please, just know that. I finally learned what love was, but it was too late.” More tears are flowing, but silently as she stares ahead. There’s a darkness in her eyes now, and I wonder if it will be there forever after this. And for a long second, I don’t know what the hell to do with any of it.
My hand slides along the wall to keep me steady as I return to the warmth of the cabin. Adriana’s words are still circling in my head, and my mind is somehow refusing to process them.
For any sliver of softness that remained inside him. Alexei ripped it out of his fucking veins.
I exhale slowly, squeezing myeyes shut.
No. I’m not accepting that shit.
I move to the kitchen, setting my empty mug on the table, then reach for the small orange bottle sitting there. My fingers tighten around the Suboxone as I pick it up. I grab a bottle of water, twisting the cap loose as I move, already heading for the basement stairs before I can think too hard about it. If I stop, I’m going to start thinking about everything Adriana just told me. I just need to see him. Part of me is in complete denial about his deteriorated state.
The stairs creak under my weight as I start down, my chest feeling tighter with every stupid step. Halfway down, I hear a dull, odd thud. Then another.
I stop, my grip tightening around the bottle in my hand as I listen.
Thud.
I keep moving. At the bottom of the stairs, the basement living room opens up in front of me, soft lamplight casting a low glow across the space. Nico is on the couch, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, his attention fixed on the monitors in front of him. He doesn’t look up right away. I follow his line of sight, and my stomach drops when I see Jude on the screen. He’s…pacing, all fucked up again. His movements are sharp and weird, like his body can’t decide what it’s doing. One second, he’s at the edge of the room, the next, he’s turning quickly, dragging a hand through his hair, then stopping abruptly. Even through the screen, I can see how hard he’s shaking, and the way he hunches slightly. It looks like his body hurts to exist in. And then—
He slams his head back against the wall. The sound is dull through the speakers, but it still hits. My chest locks.
“Motherfucker—” The word leaves me under my breath.
Nico exhales slowly, finally glancing at me. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Motherrrrfucker.”
He’s even worse now. Jude drags a hand down his face, fingers digging hard into his skin like he’s trying to pull a goddamn mask off of it, even if it's not there. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying from here. His shirt is damp with sweat, clinging to a body that’s thinner than before.
He’s withdrawing.
I swallow hard. “Has he—” My voice cuts off. I try again. “Has he taken anything?”
Nico shakes his head. “Rafe wanted to wait. See where he’s at after he slept a little. He wouldn’t take the meds offered to him last night.”
I look back at the screen, watching as Jude stumbles slightly, catching himself on the wall before shoving away from it.
Yeah. I’ve seen enough.
I don’t say anything else. I just turn, already heading for the hallway that leads to the room.
