Gaslighter

21

READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END. THANK YOU

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

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2021

          I was wide awake then.

          Though I hadn't slept much, both thanks to the weather and to a hyperactive brain, the thought of going back to sleep didn't even cross my mind. It wasn't the first time he called me this late—I didn't like to be treated as a booty call, but I still knew we had to take every opportunity we could find—but he could usually speak in full sentences. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him drink himself to oblivion, to the point of barely being able to say something coherent, and nauseating dread crept up my chest, lodged in the hollow of my throat.

          "Are you okay?" I asked, pushing away my covers and blankets. When my foot landed on the floor, I recoiled with the sudden change in temperature, even though I was wearing supposedly warm socks. "Did something happen?"

          "I'm fine," he slurred, like the type of person who wasn't fine at all. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could be and I could still understand what he was blabbering, but there still was no reason to leave him on his own while assuming he could handle it. I couldn't put my phone on speaker while I put on a warmer hoodie on top of my sweater, so I had to hold it against my ear with my shoulder, which made the task of getting dressed far harder than it needed to be. "I'm okay. I just can't drive. This city is so goddamn bright. I can't stand it."

          I was the one out of the two of us who was willing to drive under the influence. I was still at his beck and call, after all, and I'd driven to and from his apartment after drinking countless times, but I trusted him not to be that irresponsible. Unlike me, he had other places to be, other places to seek refuge, whereas I only had him, and had to run away from everyone, including my parents, just to find that safe space.

          I was already wearing a pair of cotton leggings—not the warmest piece of clothing out there, so it was no surprise I was shaking from the cold—and only needed to put on a pair of shoes, maybe wrap a scarf around my neck, but that wasn't even the hardest thing I had to do before leaving.

          I still had to get past Ingrid and Savannah.

          Knowing them as I did, they were most likely still awake somewhere, if they were even in the house. Lying to them was particularly exhausting, more than when it came to my parents, as these were the two people I was far more likely to see every day and, therefore, be forced to lie to every single time I had to do something related to Chase. I was almost certain none of my excuses were sticking anymore and I'd attracted too much negative attention to myself and my sneakiness, but I found slight relief in the belief that they didn't know exactly what I was hiding from them. Those moments belonged to me and him, existing in our own little private bubble, and I was determined to keep things that way.

          "Can you message me your location?" I asked, rummaging through my bag in search of my car keys. I wasn't fully sober by that point either, my lousy dinner having done little to calm the tornado in my stomach, and I was still lightheaded, but believed I was fit enough to drive if I drank some water. "Can you get some water while you wait? Try to stay hydrated?"

          "I am hydrated." A sloshing sound came from his side of the line, but the way my heart sank told me it wasn't water that was entering his system, a clear indicator I needed to hurry up. "I probably shouldn't. I can't text you. I can't talk to you."