Wanted For Pleasure: vol 2

Chapter 47: hurting games II

"Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one."

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𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

I had to sleep in one of the guest rooms. You know, it made me realize that we need better mattresses in there. My night was restless. Without Morgan, I was tossing and turning.

I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do about Cleo. She has no one. Well, she has Sabrina, but I wouldn't contact her.
Cleo's father, Shawn Bowie, is behind bars, and rightfully so. Her mother? She never really talked about her, just said she's a "stuck up bitch." I can see that, the whole family is.

After a shower, I needed to clear my head, so I've been sitting outside smoking a blunt while the dogs run around, eat and drink.

"Come get the ball, Stevie." I talk at my dog.

She just blinks at me with this head tilt.

"Stevie, come get it. Come get the ball!" I try using a baby voice to sway her. She doesn't budge but that normally works.

Huh. That's unlike her.

Instead, Stevie lays down in the grass and whimpers.

"You mad at me, too?" I cough, sitting back in the lawn chair.

8:48 am

I told work that if I do come in today, it'll be late. That's a big ass "if." I don't want to go to work, there's a lot of shit I need to figure out at home; starting with finding somewhere safe to take Cleo.

I'm hungry. Starving, even.

Usually, Morgan would have breakfast made. She'd make my plate and smile as she watches me eat it.

I guess she's still asleep. Last night was a lot, I don't blame her for not wanting to wake up and deal with this shit.

Frustrated when I go in and see there's no there's no food in the fridge, I slam it shut.

"What?! What's that?!" A startled Cleo jumps up from the couch.

I didn't even know she was lying there.

I settle down and non-verbally apologize for the loud noise.
Last night, I read that after an overdose, aggression, paranoia, and confusion are to be expected.

"Chris?" She asks if it's really me standing before her.

I nod, carefully walking towards her.

She looks... less dead than before, I'll say that. At least she doesn't stink or have any private parts exposed.

"It's okay. Go back to sleep, it's still early." I tell her in a calm, low voice.

"I-I can't," her voice trembles. "I'm freezing."

I can tell. She's got herself wrapped in a comforter and is still shivering.

Just because, I sit beside Cleo and she leans into my body.

"H-help me, Chrissy," she shivers. "Warm me up."

I don't know how she means. So, I only rub her shoulders.

"No," she clicks her teeth. "Lay next to me. Please. It'll be like— like that o-one time when we cuddled. R-Remember that?"

She's referring to a late night we had last year. Cleo was drunk, so was I. It was storming - heavy rain, thunder, lightning. She was scared, asked me to hold her like her father used to. If she didn't keep screaming, I wouldn't have done it, but she was petrified. It didn't mean anything, I felt nothing, of course. Neither did she. I can't even say it felt nice because I kept pillows between my front and her backside. But I'm happy I was there for her, I guess.