It's objectively sad that my dream is gone. Just like Adriana's, I suppose. As well as the countless people who have been sucked dry in this industry who were once so full of life. I'm no stranger to the reality of various celebrities killing themselves because they were either abused as a child by producers or had to get on their knees for a director to get into some big movie.
Is it all worth it for these people?
I was never for me.
The front door opens, and Aiden walks in carrying dinner on a tray. I don’t even flinch, but Adriana moves fast, though. She jumps up and takes one of the plates from him.
“Ugh, thank you,” she mutters, already pulling apart the pelmeni.
He doesn’t leave immediately, though. That smirk is carved into his face, the pale scar along his cheek catching the overhead light. I track him without moving my head, just my eyes. Predator watching predator. He drifts behind her, his hand sliding up her side casually.
She goes still.
He looks at me over her shoulder, waiting. He’s definitely testing me again for some goddamn reason. I don’t move, because I’ve just had it today.
Adriana steps away from him and comes to sit beside me on the couch, plate balanced on her knees.
Aiden’s eyes narrow slightly. “Do you even fuck her?”
She chokes on her food.
My head turns toward him slowly. “What?”
He leans forward, bracing a hand on the back of the couch behind my shoulder. “I asked you if you fuck her.”
My jaw tightens. “Why do you care?”
“Yes,” Adriana cuts in quickly. “Almost daily since there's nothing else to do here. He’s the best fuck I’ve ever had. Please get out.”
I admit, her lie sounds real.
Aiden straightens, expression shifting. His hand suddenly shoots out and tangles in her hair. “Maybe you can come sleep with me tonight,” he murmurs.
She wrenches herself free, setting the plate beside her so she doesn't drop it. “In your dreams, bitch.”
I let out a quiet snort at that.There she is.
But Aiden doesn’t like that. He grabs her again, this time fisting his hand in the back of her hair and yanking her over the back of the couch. She screams angrily, scratching deep gouges into his arm.
“Fuck, I like that,” he laughs. “Hurt me, baby.”
I’m on my feet before I even register deciding to move. My fist connects with his face so hard I feel the impact all the way up my arm. His head snaps to the side, and he stumbles back, releasing her.
Adriana scrambles away. And then we’re fighting. The second my fist connects with his face again, something inside me snaps entirely. Aiden stumbles back, blood already dripping from the corner of his mouth, but he recovers fast. He lunges for me, and we collide hard enough to rattle the coffee table, knocking it sideways as we crash into it. Wood splinters, and glasses hit thefloor. Adriana is shouting something, but I can’t understand the words.
He swings, and I take the hit to the jaw, tasting iron instantly. Instead of backing off, I grin. I slam my shoulder into his ribs and drive him into the wall. A framed picture shatters behind him, glass raining down around us. He grunts and elbows me in the side, but I barely feel it. The meth has my nerves wrapped in cotton and fucking gasoline at the same damn time.
He goes for my throat.
I catch his wrist midair and twist, forcing him down, but he uses the momentum to knee me hard in the stomach. Air leaves my lungs in a rush. He shoves me off and scrambles toward the dining table, where he dropped his gun.
I tackle him before he can reach it, slamming him to the ground. My fist comes down once. Twice. Three times. Each hit is heavier than the last, knuckles splitting open against his cheekbone. He bucks beneath me, managing to throw me sideways just enough to roll and reach the gun.
A shot explodes through the room.
For a second, I don’t understand what happened. Then heat blooms through my side. I stagger back, looking down at the dark stain spreading across my shirt. It’s not center mass. Not fatal. And I start laughing. Not because it’s funny, but because I can’t fucking feel it.
Aiden scrambles to his feet, breathing hard, gun shaking slightly in his hand as he points it straight at my face. “Back the fuck up,” he spits.