Addicted | ✔

C h a p t e r S i x t y - E i g h t

                                                                                PART SIXTY EIGHT

 ❝Please don't, ever become a stranger who's laugh I could recognize anywhere.❞

 was still a child. This, now more than ever was abundantly clear. I had no business raising a child, being a wife, or whatever I was now, nor did I have any business thinking I was so much better than I actually was. I sank into the tile of the bathroom, my hands reaching for the lock. So for ten minutes I could have some peace and quiet. I wanted to leave, I was breaking the family I thought could fix me. Jack's previous words, rang in my ears like drums. He was going to leave me too, and he would take our daughter. My little girl, the child I'd tried so hard to make myself for. But I couldn't, would they find him a better parent than me? Would we both be declared unfit ad I'd watch as CPS took my little girl and put her into foster care with Jim, and fucking Jill Swanson. She would think, as she grew up that her mommy left her. She would think that I, on purpose didn't want her. That's how I had felt. Unwanted, unloved, not needed. She needed to know, it wasn't her fault.

My hands, somehow failing at the lock attempted and again failed to pull me off of the ground and in front of the counter. My hair was longer than it had ever been before. My eyes, the hazy caramel color I could not stand look lifeless. A friend had once told me, they looked like stars when I cried. My phone, which somehow I had managed not to lose while being flipped in between men, was on the counter. I picked it up, turning to the camera. Only the grey towel was wrapped around my body, I turned on selfie mode and snapped a photo of myself. My long wet hair, the towel not covering much, my face scarred and sunken in cheekbones. I looked like hell, if hell was a girl, which it was. Me. 

The door swung open, I dropped my phone onto the counter. Turning to Jack I silently was grateful my screen hadn't shattered. I stared at him, trying to find the same comfort I used to find in his eyes.

"Where'd, and more importantly how'd you get this?" He asked, from his pocket pulling all the cash I'd made. Save two hundreds I'd tucked into my wallet. I wondered, for a brief minute if I could lie my way out of this. The look on Jack's face apparently said otherwise. He knew damn well what I'd done, and didn't look happy about it.

"Here and there." I muttered, my same excuse to Alex before I'd slept with him. My reason for abandoning my family. 

"I was right, was I?" This, came as a weird question. I wasn't sure, not really why the anger danced behind his eyes. I stared, my lips almost level with his. I suddenly, had the urge to kiss him. Without anything coming after it. I stared at him waiting for him to continue.

"You are a whore." These words, said with such force had small spit flecks land on my cheeks. I brushed them off, letting the towel fall around my ankles. Across my stomach, there were fresh scratches, as men liked to call them love marks. I disagreed, they stung though. Across my neck, was the handprint practically imprinted into my skin, another love mark. That I was certain was going to cause my death. Jack ran his finger across my collarbone.

"I didn't know." I said, softly. Jack removed his finger from my skin, and it felt like a piece of me died just then. I wanted to reach for his hand, find comfort in him. 

"Didn't know what?" He asked, drawing the words out of me slowly so I had to relive the night's terror again through memory. I shrugged.

"He said it was a party, I didn't know it was well... you know Jack, I know you know." Jack nodded, he exhaled sharply and I could feel his breath on my neck. After tonight that feeling sent a wave of fear through me. He continued, still no warmth to his words.

"You'd think, after practically living on the streets you'd know how to think straight Kaitlyn. Or are you just to much of a fucking addict to care?" He asked, his words sharp and cutting. I recoiled. My heart stopped for a split second. I didn't break our eye contact. He took another step toward me.

"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, softly again trying not to show how afraid I was of him. He could see it, another step we were so close. Like a snake, he coiled his hand against my neck. I froze. I didn't speak, I didn't move. 

"It matters to me, because I cared. I cared about a girl who turned out to be a whore, a self obsessed narcissist, and a shit mother. There was only one thing you were ever good for. At least other men figured that out tonight. Serves you the fuck right." 

I did not feel, him digging his nails deep into the cuts I already had. Or the blood that dripped from them now.  I did not feel his hand wrap around my neck, all I could hear was those words, storming around my head like soldiers, like soldiers that were laughing at me, taunting me. I exhaled, what felt like the last bit of breath I had left in me. I didn't fight him, I knew what was coming next, I did not hear, feel, so much as see him naked in front of me. I did not, feel him push me to my knees, or know his cock was in my mouth. I was limp, and I was numb, and I was drunk. And I was not happy. If I had counted, how long I had been there, on my knees not breathing, while he throat fucked my limp body I would've said it was five minutes. The only thing I felt, was my head being slammed into the wall and I could not fight with consciousness anymore. He spit on me, and I was to gone to even wipe it off. 

I was done for, Jack knew it, I knew it, and my daughter probably knew it.