"Save Me" by XXXTENTACION.

save me

Beth drove so slowly that it took well over half an hour to get home. But the apartment didn't feel like home when she stepped through the front door. There was the faintest trace of Daryl's familiar scent lingering in the air to remind her of his absence. Other than that, it was just cold and quiet.

She cranked up the thermostat first, then rushed to the bathroom to relieve the pee she'd been holding in for the last ten minutes. After that, she kicked off her shoes and began stripping out of her clothes. But the silence was becoming deafening and she didn't like hearing the random yells and laughter and arguing from the street and parking lot outside. She grabbed her Bluetooth speaker and turned on some music, cranking it up until it was bouncing off the posters and pictures that adorned the walls.

She breathed a little easier once she'd changed into comfy clothes, free of her contacts and her makeup, glasses on and hair thrown into a sloppy ponytail. And she'd sobered up just a bit, which was probably for the better. Even though there was no real reason to not be hungover tomorrow. It was her only day off from both jobs and she had zero plans. At this point, she didn't even know if Daryl would want to come over. He'd left her text on Read well over an hour after she'd sent it.

What if she was left to sit around her desolate apartment all day, with nothing to keep her company but her own thoughts? She wasn't sure she could handle that. She didn't feel like smoking herself to sleep or trying to watch TV. Getting to sleep tonight would be challenging enough. She wanted to keep her buzz going. She was too restless to relax, to allow herself to fall back into the sadness that loomed heavily behind her.

She quickly turned up the volume on the speaker, 21 Savage's voice filling all the emptiness around her, and grabbed the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on her kitchen counter. A year ago, she might've been blaring some indie band or a classic country artist, but nowadays all those songs just made her sad. The upbeat yet gritty rap and hip-hop music that she'd never much cared for (and that Daryl absolutely despised) had grown on her over the last several months. Her friends had always listened to it, but it wasn't until she started hanging out with Jimmy and being exposed to all of his favorite music that she started really enjoying it. She didn't even stop after he left - dozens of his most-played songs filled her current playlists. And it had become a sort of comfort to her, something she could listen to that actually improved her mood. Something that made it easier to pretend she was okay. Something that admittedly reminded her of Jimmy, but also made her feel like… a different person. In a good way. The person she wished she really was.

She poured a shot and downed it, barely tasting the liquid that had once made her wince. It slid down her throat and sent tingles of warmth through her core.

The fear that had been hovering over her head faded almost instantly.

A moment later, she plopped down onto the couch with a beer in hand, picking up her phone. A text had arrived a few minutes earlier, while she was taking off her makeup. But to her disappointment, it wasn't from Daryl.

Did you make it home, beautiful?

Dante. She'd forgotten to text him when she got home. She sent back a quick "Yeah, just got home. Thanks for coming tonight, it was really fun."

She took a long sip of beer and checked her social media apps: Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram. Lauren and Brittany had posted plenty of Snaps of all their cute outfits and how much fun they were having. And on Abby's Instagram, she'd posted a group photo of all of them - except Beth, of course. The caption read: "Girl's Night! #noboysallowed #strongindependentwomenonly."

Beth rolled her eyes and scrolled past. But it struck a nerve. Her stomach wrenched painfully and she took another gulp of cold beer. She got a random urge and scrolled back up, tapping on the Comment button and leaving a comment that said, "just at me next time." Before she could second guess her choice to post it, a new text from Dante popped up. She closed Instagram.

It was my pleasure. You're even more gorgeous in person. I'm off Monday and if you don't work too late tomorrow, I'd love to take you out.

The pain in her stomach turned to butterflies and she smirked to herself, about to tap out a reply. But then his second text arrived:

But if not, maybe another night would work better for you...? I was thinking just the two of us. I'd love to get to know you better, Beth.

Jeez, this guy was almost too polite. She paused, unsure how to reply. She began to feel a little bad - Dante seemed like a really nice guy, and if it weren't for Jimmy and Daryl, she might be prepared to jump in and take this seriously. But she hadn't even been honest about working tomorrow, she'd just made up an excuse. And as awful as she was, she didn't have it in her to be blatantly bitchy with him. He'd been nothing but kind to her, he hadn't done anything to deserve an attitude or a rude rejection. Nor did he deserve to know about the two men she was currently wrapped up with in both mind and body.

Besides, if he wanted to take her out tomorrow, maybe that would give her something to actually look forward to. A date was innocent enough. And it would be a purpose for the day until she made it to Monday and got back to work. (If Daryl didn't end up texting her, that is. If he did, she could always tell Dante she had to work late or something.)

She tapped out a response and hit Send: "Yeah, I think I'd like that. Not sure how late they want me to work tomorrow but I won't be off before 5. Is that okay?" That gave her plenty of time to sleep in, nurse a hangover, and get all dolled up.

Before she could do anything else, a text from Abby arrived. Beth's stomach twisted and anger bubbled up from deep within.

Ur so immature. U need to learn how to listen to ur frnds, the ppl who actually CARE bout u !

She chugged the rest of her beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the coffee table, furiously typing out a response: "Says the girl who's vague posting very obviously about me? I never judge you guys, I don't need your shit."

She barely had time to take her empty bottle to the kitchen and grab a new one from the fridge before another text arrived.

Uve done nuthn but talk shit abt Laurens bf. Ur such a hypocrite an u wont stop bein SO selfish. We dnt even kno u nemore Beth.

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she replied simply, "K."

A second later, Abby's final text appeared.

Brittany doesnt want u at her birthday party next week. I dnt want in the middle of it, Im jst telling u. We can still b frnds but Britt doesnt want u coming over for a couple weeks.

Beth popped open her fresh beer and took a swig, simultaneously texting back, "Cool."

She tossed her phone onto the counter with a little more force than necessary and spun around, heading into the bathroom. The beer was already going right through her.

As she washed her hands, Abby's messages kept repeating inside her head. Her gut was churning, suddenly filled with a heavy hollowness. Those stupid girls were her only fucking friends, and now what? They wanted nothing to do with her for the foreseeable future? So she'd be alone in this big, terrifying city?

No one could stand her. They all thought she was insufferable.

I'm so fucking alone. And I always will be. Because I'm awful… I'm so fucking alone and it's exactly what I deserve.

She dried her hands and paused, her glassy gaze passing over the medicine cabinet. Inside was a tiny black bag that held a razorblade. It would be so easy - just reach in, pull it out, slip her sweatpants down to her knees and sit down…

No, I can't - Dante might see the cuts tomorrow night and think I'm insane. Or Daryl will see. And he'll get upset. He'll make me feel guilty again, she reminded herself. She grabbed her beer and took a long drink, then she shut off the bathroom light and went back to the couch.

But the tears pooling in her eyes wouldn't go away. She blinked and they fell down her cheeks. She roughly wiped them away, checking her phone to find nothing new. And it was still so early, barely past two. There was no way she'd be able to lie down and go to sleep yet.

She replayed the night in her head as rap music blared around her, trying to pinpoint the moment where she'd become so ignorant. But it was the whole fucking night, she had to admit to herself. She made terrible decisions like it was her job. Tonight had been nothing new.

Fuck, those bitches were so frustrating. And at the same time, they were the best friends she'd ever had. She didn't know what place she had if it wasn't with them. If they were at their wit's end with her, then who would be left?

She downed the rest of her beer and wiped away more tears as she went back to the kitchen for another drink. She opened a new beer and took a sip, walking over and sitting down on the couch.

Her thumb lingered over the screen of her phone, like she was about to do something. She wanted to check Daryl's social media, though she knew she wouldn't find anything. She wanted to text him again, even if it made her look needy and desperate. And a small part of her wanted to message Jimmy. To tell him how much he'd hurt her, how she couldn't stop thinking about him, how she still couldn't wrap her head around why he refused to talk to her. To tell him how cruel it was that he couldn't even give her the closure she deserved.

But she didn't do any of those things. She was fucking stupid, but she wasn't that fucking stupid.

Well, mostly not. The beer began to catch up with her and the tears were still forming and falling, though she'd given up on wiping them away. Her head raged like a storm, bursting at the seams with conflicting emotions. She needed to release it all somehow. The spot beside her was so cold, so empty. And she really didn't want to go back into the bathroom and resort to that tempting razorblade. She didn't want to sit all alone on the couch either, drinking and crying over her pathetic life.

She just wanted someone to listen. To care. To understand and to assure her that she wasn't entirely hopeless. Even if they didn't really believe it themselves.

The next thing she knew, she was holding the phone up to her ear and waiting for Daryl to answer.

He would've been mad if he knew exactly why she'd gotten into an argument with her friends. He would've picked out the little details, like he was prone to doing, and embellished them until they were the most important part of the story. And then he would've turned the whole situation around to make it all about her bad choices and how she was deceitful and a liar and only wanted to hurt him.

The full story almost slipped out as the tears rolled down her cheeks and she struggled to hold back sobs. Hearing his voice made her suddenly feel vulnerable. Wounded. Like she wanted to bare all her mistakes right there over the phone. But then she recognized the tint of judgment in his tone when he realized she'd driven herself home and just like that, her defenses flew up in preparation. So she caught herself and held the whole truth inside. She simply told him why she was so upset and admitted how utterly alone she was feeling, how hopeless her life had become, how everyone was sick of her and how she had no idea how to fix it.

And it wasn't like it was anything he hadn't heard before, but she knew he understood in a way that no one else really could. Plus, he already didn't like her friends so he would happily assure her that she was right no matter what the situation might be.

Surprisingly, he wasn't irritated by her late phone call. Or her request for him to come over. In fact, he sounded almost eager when he promised to get dressed and head her way.

Her heart panged with guilt but she quickly drank it away.

The excitement of expecting his arrival faded moments after ending the call. Another wave of tears passed through her, the sobs wracking her body as a slew of old memories surfaced in her head. The same memories that always seemed to surface, especially in moments like this when she was feeling particularly unsure of her current place in Daryl's life.

Because all she could remember was the place she'd occupied for the last four years, where she'd grown comfortable and content. The place that used to soothe and calm her, that used to be her solace amongst the broken life she'd wanted to escape. The place that he'd gradually filled with broken glass and rusty nails until she could no longer stand without getting puncture wounds. The place he'd shoved her from before reaching out and trying to pull her back in once she'd finally climbed out and walked away on bloody feet.

The place that, inexplicably, she desperately wanted to be in again. Yet at the same time, didn't.

Half of her wanted him back - all the love they'd built, the trust, the unbreakable bond. She wanted to be that person in his life. She wanted the comfort of knowing he was hers, and the confidence of knowing she was his. She wanted to be Daryl's Girl again. She wanted to come home to him and wake up to him and know that he was close by at all times. She wanted to know that he was there, to feel his warmth and drink in every moment of his reassuring presence.

She wanted him to save her. Though she was no longer sure what he was saving her from.

And yet, the other half of her didn't want to slip back into that old place ever again. The other half of her recalled all the poison she'd ingested throughout their relationship. The damage left behind by all the mistakes she'd made… all the mistakes he'd made. All the mistakes that she had excused or misinterpreted, and all the shit he'd continuously held over her head for years.

All the fights, the name-calling, the jealousy, the words that had been spat like venom and could never be taken back. Or forgotten.

Sure, she deserved most of it. Maybe all of it. But it still hurt like fucking hell.

"You don't fuckin' care who you hurt, all you've ever cared about was yourself. Yer selfish as selfish comes, Beth."

"Nobody likes a desperate bitch, least of all me. I ain't got time fer that needy, clingy bullshit. I don't want no part in yer stupid little girl drama. You already knew this, ain't nothin' new. You was jus' ignorin' it - but I don't play that fairytale shit, princess. Yer the one that put me on a pedestal and got yer hopes up, not me."

"I got better fuckin' things ta do'an sit around textin' you all day, sittin' on the fuckin' couch an' watchin' stupid shows with you. 'S all you ever wanna do anymore. Waste a my goddamn time."

"I always knew you was no fuckin' good fer me, girl. Shoulda stayed far away like everybody warned me to. You just can't be alone 'cause yer so goddamn codependent. An' I was the first dumbass ya found ta latch onto."

"Oh, I don't fuck you enough? 'S that yer fuckin' problem?! Maybe if ya actually tried once in a while, I'd want to. What makes ya think a man wants ta come home after a hard day's work to find his woman in sweatpants every goddamn night?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' read it - 'cause yer always so fucking secretive about it. An' now I know why. Yer sick. All that shit you write about in there, thinkin' I'll never fuckin' find out about it… Yer daddy would be ashamed if he knew what you really thought an' how ugly you really are, how much of a slut you grew up up ta be. You ain't the girl I thought you was, Beth. I don't even know you."

"I fucking loved you - an' I thought you loved me, too. But you ain't even capable of love 'less it's fer yerself. You were just using me. That's all you've ever done. If I'm a ghost, then you ain't nothin' but another manipulative bitch."

"You jus' go around leechin' the souls outta every fuckin' guy you come into contact with, drainin' 'em till they're fuckin' dry and movin' onta the next. Yer pure evil, Beth. Yer a goddamn succubus!"

"Nothin' matters 's long as yer happy, ain't that right? Fuck everybody else, fuck all the people who've bent over backwards for you. So long as yer gettin' yer rocks off an' bein' chased after - 's that it? That's all you care about is gettin' some fuckin' dick like some kinda whore?!"

Sticks and stones might break her bones, but the words that had been burned into her brain made her want to open her wrists.

She'd loved him, she'd trusted him, she'd given him everything she had to give and more. She'd poured from an empty cup repeatedly only to be accused of hoarding more for herself. She'd stripped herself to the bones, revealed her cold and blackened heart, only to have it all thrown back in her face. And when she'd reached the end of her rope and tried to claim something of her own, some thread of a semblance of self, she'd been called evil. Selfish. Despicable. Insane. A slut and a whore. A woman with no right to happiness.

And still, she was so fucking needy. So goddamn helpless. And hopeless.

Then her phone vibrated in her hand and she glanced down through tear-filled eyes to see a new text message from Dante. She took another swig of beer and opened it.

More than okay :) I'll text you tomorrow around 5. Goodnight, beautiful.

For a fleeting moment, she resided within another life as someone new and happy; a girl named Beth who liked to have a good time and meet new people, a girl who didn't have a million demons trailing in her wake. And she smirked as she texted back, "Talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight."

Even if everything else fell apart, at least she still had one person to fall back on. For now.

She downed the last of her beer and wiped away her tears, heading into the kitchen to set her empty bottle on the counter and throw back another shot of whiskey. Her head raced and the music around her made her want to dance. So she did, just for a minute. And when she grabbed a fresh beer and went back to the couch, singing along to the song that was playing, she found a new text from Daryl waiting for her.

On my way.

Her chest surged with anticipation and suddenly, she wasn't thinking about the bad memories or the scars or the unforgivable shit. The only memories running through her head were the last couple of weeks: how easily they'd fallen into a routine, how comforting his presence had become and how reliable he was being. They hadn't argued or fought or really even disagreed.

She could tell he was making a point not to regress to his old ways, and it created a weird boundary between them that she wasn't sure he could sense. But she sensed it. It was palpable. And it made the line between friends and lovers terribly blurry.

Yet she couldn't stop herself from feeling hopeful by the obvious effort he was displaying. Even if it would only be short-lived like all the times before. Somehow, this time felt different.

Or maybe she was just being naive. Maybe her desperation was shining through in the most predictable manner.

But what if he actually could be different? What if he wanted to be better? For her? He was the only one who could repair the wounds he'd created, so she'd have to be stupid not to let him try.

She sipped cold beer and texted back, "Can't wait" with four heart-eyes emojis. She glanced at the time and estimated how many minutes she'd have to kill before he arrived.

But what if Jimmy comes back? That voice never failed to echo in the back of her head. Even though she knew it was impossible, that it was a completely pointless desire. She kept telling herself, He's not coming back, he'll never come back. It's over, it's time to move on. Yet there was always that tiny part that wanted to pipe up: But what if it's not? What if he finally misses you enough to come back? Would you break Daryl's heart again for another chance with the guy who made you so happy for such a short time?

She was stupid. So fucking stupid. Constantly hoping for something that would never be, repeatedly dreaming about something that had never really meant anything at all. It had always been doomed to fail. Why couldn't she see that from the start? She should've just stuck things out with Daryl. They would never have the gigantic rift between them now if it hadn't been for her leaving, for her giving up on him once and for all just to chase after an ill-fated illusion of love with a boy her own age.

But what if losing her to another man was the one thing that had knocked some actual sense into Daryl? What if he'd truly learned a lesson from seeing her slip out of his fingers? He'd always promised to be better, to try harder, but he'd never followed through. Probably because he knew she wasn't going anywhere, because he knew that she was just as hopelessly indebted to him as he was to her. She'd threatened to leave time and time again but when it came down to it, she always ended up running straight back into his arms. She barely managed to stray away from him before being reeled back in. By guilt or by love, she wasn't sure. But there'd always been something that had made her final goodbyes nothing more than empty threats. Like her feet were plastered in concrete whenever she tried to walk away.

And just as he'd never followed through with his promises to change and be a better partner, she'd never followed through with her threats of leaving. Until Jimmy came along.

Would Daryl have ever wanted to be different or tried to change like this if it hadn't been for watching her walk away and move on? Was Jimmy nothing more than the catalyst for a fresh start with Daryl? A lesson to help them grow into the people they needed to be for one another, to help them learn how to grow together?

Were she and Daryl even capable of growing together? Or were they destined to grow apart, into entirely separate people with separate lives and nothing more than memories of one another?

Was she only meant to be a lesson in Daryl's life? And she in his?

That was the most terrifying prospect.

No, she thought. That doesn't feel right.

In fact, it made her sick to her stomach. To think of parting ways with Daryl and never seeing him again. To think of building a life that didn't consist of him. To think of someone else taking her place as his most trusted and loved person. To think of some other woman lying beside him at night, running her hands across his bare skin, tracing the scars on his back…

The whole idea felt disgustingly wrong.

There was no Beth without Daryl, and no Daryl without Beth. That's how it would always be, whether they wanted it to be that way or not.

It was a sense of certainty that filled the utmost bottom of her heart: they were connected for life, their very beings intertwined in a way that could never be undone.

She was absolutely sure of it.

Her head - and heart - felt ten tons lighter from the combination of alcohol and upbeat music and the excitement of knowing Daryl was on his way. By the time he knocked on her door, she'd managed to stop crying and wipe away the remaining tears. She smiled as soon as she opened the door and saw him standing before her, familiar old butterflies coming to life in the pit of her stomach somewhere beneath all the beer and whiskey.

"You made it," she said, her lips curving into a genuine smile despite her red-rimmed eyes.

Even after all this time, he was the only one who could make her feel that way just from seeing him. Like all her nerves immediately vanished when he was nearby, all her muscles instinctively relaxing. He was here and that meant she was safe now. It meant she was no longer alone.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, pointedly locking it and assuring that it was secure. "Make sure ya keep this door locked. Got some sketchy-lookin' folks roamin' around outside."

She rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling and bursting with excitement at his arrival. She could ignore his overprotectiveness for the moment. "I know, they were bein' loud as hell when I got home. I always keep the door locked. This ain't my first time livin' away from home, ya know."

He nodded, but didn't offer any kind of subtle smile as she'd expected when he turned around and faced her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Yeah well, you know I'm jus' paranoid."

He shifted his weight almost nervously and met her gaze briefly before glancing away. There was something about the tone of his voice, the expression on his face, the distant look in his eyes and his slightly tensed shoulders; she reflexively wanted to ask him what was wrong. But she decided against it. Maybe he was just tired because he'd woken up no more than half an hour ago. Or maybe he still wasn't feeling well. Maybe it hadn't been an excuse, maybe he really had been sick.

She remarked light-heartedly, "I guess some things never change."

His only response was a grunt of acknowledgment and a clipped nod. Then he was slipping his boots off and leaving them by the door. He glanced around and she knew he was observing, taking in the details. She had no doubt that he'd noticed the empty beer bottles sitting on the counter, and the half-drank beer sitting on the coffee table.

"You feelin' any better?" She asked. "You didn't have ta come if yer still not feeling good."

He shrugged off his coat and laid it over the back of the couch. "Already here. Feelin' a little better. Ain't no big deal, just an upset stomach. I'm alrigh' now."

She nodded, her smile fading into uncertainty. Why was she getting the sense that he wanted to say something else? Why did he look like he was holding something in? Was it her overly sensitive pessimism or was he preparing to drop some kind of bad news? She knew him, she could read him like a book, and she could feel the palpable tension that was coming off him in waves. Even with all the alcohol fucking up her natural perception, she could see that there was something else bothering him.

But he'd come over. He was here, he was with her. And he was kicking his shoes off and making himself comfortable.

Her head was just being weird tonight, she decided. It was the combination of alcohol and high emotions setting her alarms off, that's all. There was no need to look too deeply into his body language - he was tired. And not feeling well. And he didn't need her creating problems where there were no problems to be found. She was determined to stay far away from her most obnoxious past behaviors. She'd already been called out for being overdramatic one time too many tonight. She didn't want to be like that with him this time around.

Okay, so maybe Daryl wasn't the only one who was actively trying to be different, trying to be better. Even if it was in a very small way. She was sick of playing back all the things he'd said to her over the last few years and realizing he was right; she was sick of being a person who was completely blind to their own transgressions. She wanted to be better, in a way. Improved. But not for anyone else. Solely for herself.

Did that make her selfish? She wasn't sure. But if selfish meant that she would finally reach some level of satisfaction in the person she'd become, then selfish she would be. Regardless, she wouldn't be overdramatic or needy or clingy or desperate ever again. She wouldn't be codependent or manipulative. She wouldn't be a pitiful little farm girl with unresolved daddy issues. Never again.

She'd already promised herself. The girl she'd been before Jimmy came along and opened her eyes was gone. For good. And she wasn't coming back. Because no one wanted her - that Beth had been weak and helpless and absolutely pitiful. And she'd been twisted and morphed into someone unrecognizable anyhow. There was no coming back for that Beth.

She had to be someone new. Someone stronger. She had to be someone who could fix themselves, a woman who had no problem being an island all on her own.

Most of all, she had to figure out who the hell she really was. Because she'd grown so entangled with Daryl that once she'd pried herself out of the crumbling house of their relationship and away from everything they'd built (and demolished), she didn't even recognize the shell of a girl who finally emerged from the rubble.

Even now, she didn't quite know who it was that had made Jimmy fall in love so quickly and for such a short time, who had spent those blissful months with him. It all felt like a dream anymore, like she'd imagined the whole thing in some perfect play world of her mind's creation. That had been a different Beth, too. A Beth she desperately wished she could get back but who she knew was long dead.

So who the hell was she anymore? Who was she without Daryl? Or with Daryl? Who was she with anyone else? Who would she choose to be from here on out?

At times like this, she felt like the answer to that question may be hidden somewhere within the pores of Daryl's skin. Maybe it was nestled somewhere in the cradle of his arms, or submerged amongst his shaggy dark hair and the comforting scent of sweat and grease that emanated from his body. Perhaps it was tucked away beneath the love-stained sheets of his bed, where she had once reigned as Queen unchallenged. Sometimes, she swore it was peeking out at her from behind the veil of hurt and loss, from where it rested sunken within the depths of a thousand drunken nights and sober mornings.

But that old, familiar voice in the back of her head would always warn her: Then what happens when he goes right back to his usual habits? When the anger and resentment finally comes out? When he tells you exactly how you've hurt him and how you'll never be able to repent for it? You think you won't lose yourself all over again? You think you won't want to drown yourself in the guilt and pain, no matter who you've managed to become thus far?

Oh, she knew she would. But she'd resist it. No matter how many defenses she put up, it would still hurt like hell. And she'd take it like an injury in a game: she'd cry a little and let herself be hurt, then she'd walk it off and go on to keep playing. Nonetheless, she knew exactly how it would unfold. And that's why she wasn't putting herself on the line again or getting her hopes up.

Well - she didn't know, but she'd predicted and prepared accordingly.

Daryl could no longer hurt her. She was made of impenetrable stone now. She'd learned from him in a way he didn't realize; she'd become strong like he'd always been. Uncaring in a way that she'd always envied him for. Over the last few years, she'd built up a wall based on the blueprints he'd used. She'd taken notes and finally taken action within herself to prevent the all-encompassing and inevitable pain. And when all was said and done, her weak and soft inner core had grown a thick shell around itself, calcifying from easily wounded flesh into hardened bone. He was no longer the be-all, end-all of her existence. She'd learned her lesson and she'd learned it well. No matter how things ended with him, she would never again rely on him completely to save her or pull her back from the edge.

She would never again allow him to be the compass for her life, the deciding factor for her mood and mindset, the solitary keeper of her heart and the unchallenged King of her emotions. Of her bedroom. Of her fucking soul.

No, that's what booze was for. And weed and coke and Xanax, and those little white pain pills that her friend Nate was always crushing up to snort. That's what guys like Dante were for, or the cute cook at work who always flirted with her… or if she could ever be lucky enough, Jimmy.

That's what the razorblade in her bathroom cabinet was for. She didn't need Daryl. He wasn't the one in complete control anymore. She was. He was here because she wanted him to be here.

And, oddly enough, also because he wanted to be here.

That was the part that really fucking got her.

to be continued...