Who the hell is this guy? I take a few steps back and accidentally kick the barstool I was sitting on, and it makes a loud scratching noise against the floor. He turns around and starts walking out but looks back over his shoulder at me a couple times before finally leaving.
Panic shoots through me, and my breathing becomes erratic. Does that guy know me? Does he know Jack? My paranoid thoughts start to overtake me, and I quickly announce to the few people who are still here that we are closing immediately. My voice is trembling, and it doesn't take long for the place to empty out. As soon as the last person leaves, I lock the doors and turn off the outside lights. I walk back behind the counter, scared, not able to slow down my pounding heart. Sitting down and pulling my knees to my chest, I once again feel defeated and hopeless as the tears start to fall.
As soon as I get home, I take a sleeping pill, strip off my clothes, and lie down in bed. I hate that I have become so weak and can't get my shit together. It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be feeling this miserable every day. It's been two months, and I know I am stronger than this pathetic girl that lives inside of me and is consuming me.
It's sometime in the middle of the night when I wake up to Kimber loudly stumbling through the house. She's giggling, and I hear a guy's voice before her door slams shut. Great. I am just about to fall back asleep when her moans echo though the walls. My stomach knots up when the guy starts grunting out her name.
I can't take this. I am a mix of emotions: pissed, disgusted, jealous, and scared. Throwing the covers off of me, I grab my coat and slide on my Uggs. I need to get out of this house and away from what's going on in Kimber's room. So, I grab my keys and leave.
Quietly, I slide my key into the lock and open the door. Shutting it softly behind me, I walk through the living room while stepping out of my boots and tossing my coat on the couch. When I open the door to Jase's room, I see he is alone. Thank God. I pull back the covers and slide in behind him. It isn't long before he rolls over and wraps me in his arms. It is then when my stomach finally unknots, and I fall asleep.
"So what happened last night?" Jase asks when I walk into the kitchen.
Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I walk into the living room, which is adjacent to the open kitchen, and curl up in a blanket as I sit on the couch. Jase walks in and sits next to me, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
"Kimber brought some guy home last night, and the pervert wouldn't stop shouting her name," I say.
Chuckling, Jase asks, "Who was it?"
"I have no clue. I was asleep until they came stumbling in and woke me up." I take a sip of my coffee before adding, "It was gross!"
Jase cocks his head to the side and says, "It's not gross, Candace."
"It's gross," I insist before taking another sip of my coffee.
Jase just laughs at me, but I can't help it. Hearing those two last night was disgusting.
"Anyway, new subject. How was last night?" I ask. Ever since Mark's band played at Blur, they have become somewhat of regulars and played another gig there last night.
"It was fun. You really should've come with us."
"I told you, I had to work," I say.
"Nooo, you volunteered to work," he responds and gives me a smirk.
I have been avoiding going out with Jase and Mark. The thought of going anywhere aside from my normal spots, where I feel a little safer about not running into him, scares me. So I stick to school, work, and home.
"You live in a bubble, Candace," he says and then grabs the corner of the blanket that I am under and pulls it over his lap as he scoots up next to me. "You need to get out."
"I am out."
"You're not. I always know where to find you because you have the same routine every week. It never changes." He drapes his arm around me and pulls me closer. "I'm worried about you."
Sighing, I respond, "You don't need to be. I'm fine."
"Don't pull that act with me. I know you're not fine. It's been two months, and you are no more fine than you were back in August." Kissing the top of my head, he continues, "I worry because I only know what you tell me. But I wonder how much this really consumes you that you hold in and don't tell me about. You won't do anything to help yourself."
Taking my coffee mug out of my hand, he reaches over and sets it on the end table. I hate that he's right. I hate that I am stuck. I hate that I am scared. I hate everything about my life. Every day is so goddamn hard, and all I can do is just focus on going through the motions just to get to the next day, which is the same thing all over again. But, it's all a façade. Truth is—I'm drowning.
"I'm constantly scared," I confess to Jase, and his arms tighten around me. "I'm scared I'm going to see him. And I know this sounds absolutely crazy, but...most days..." I stop in my thought, my almost confession, which might make Jase drag me straight to a therapist if I tell him. So I lay my head on his chest and take a deep breath when he says, "You can tell me."
"I feel like I'm going to die."
The place is packed when I walk into work Saturday morning. Brandon and I are busy trying to keep up with the drink orders while Roxy deals with the customers. Brandon and I hardly ever work together because our schedules at school are opposite of each other. He's on a soccer scholarship and is a year behind me. He's laughing about something when I accidently knock the iced mocha I just made all over me.