The Mighty Storm (Raura Revised)

Chapter 58

Chapter 58

"Do you?!" he hollers at me. The level of his anger actually makes me jump out of my suddenly cold skin. "Because honestly I don't think you have a fuckin' clue! What do you do Laura? You write a stupid little column in a crappy fuckin' magazine! Me? I run a fuckin' music label and a band, taking care of everyone else, while simultaneously touring, so you know what – I don't think you know shit all about the kind of pressure I'm under!"

I feel winded. I know that's not him talking, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Thanks, Ross. It's good to know how I sit in your eyes."

I push past him, heading back into the living room.

He follows me.

Stopping, I turn around. I've only got my one card left to play.

"I know you're struggling, that's clear, and I know your life is pressured at the moment, but I can't put up with the drug taking." I hold the bag of crap up again, for the last time. "It's me or this?"

"What?" His eyes widen with disbelief.

"You heard. You either go back to rehab and get clean, or I'm gone. I won't stick around and watch you screw your life up again." My whole body is trembling under the weight of my words.

All emotion disappears from his face, and he takes a deep breath in through his nose. "Again? Sorry were you here the last time?"

I close my eyes tight shut, taking a deep breath in myself. Then I open them. "No. And why was that, Ross?" I stare hard at him. "It's me or this?" I repeat, lifting the bag higher.

His jaw tenses, his eyes slip out of focus, then narrow back onto mine with a new determinedness in them. "I don't do ultimatums."

A pain hits me hard in the chest. He's made his decision. He's way more gone than I had realised.

As I blink through the agony, a tear runs from my eye. I wipe it away with my sleeve. Then I toss the bag of coke to him.

It hits his chest, and drops to the floor.

"Have a wonderful life with your drugs, Ross."

I swivel on my heel, feeling more tears coming, I make to leave.

Ross grabs me from behind, pulling me back to him. "baby, no, I don't want you to go."

"You can't have both!" I cry in his face.

"Stop acting like a child!" A sudden callous anger bleeds through his voice, and he leans his face close to mine, his fingers gripping my arm to the point of almost pain.

"Me?! I'm not the one acting like a child!" I remonstrate. "I think you need to take a good long look in the mirror!"

His face contorts, and for a moment I don't recognise him.

He releases me, pushing me away. "Fuck you. I can do what the fuck I want, and if I want to shovel coke up my nose all day long then I will – because it's my life. I got by just fine before you turned back up, interfering with your holier than now attitude. I didn't need you then, and I certainly don't need you now."

I sharp in a breath, his words chilling my skin to my bones.

And in this moment all I want to do is hurt him, just like he's hurting me.

"You know what Ross. You were right – you are just exactly like your dad."

He looks like I've hit him, hard.

Then his face smooth's, his eyes fixing onto mine. "If that's the way you feel. Then you know where the door is." His voice is cold, emotionless, and terrifying calm.