I look at the clock before throwing a shirt over my head. What the fuck’s taking her so long? The itch I get anytime she’s not in my presence quickly returns. I can’t imagine her leaving at the end of the summer. That’s why tonight, I’m going to change that. With the music job application now in hand, it’s time to force my girl to stay.

My mind takes me back to earlier this morning watching her sleep. It sounds creepy as fuck, but God, how beautiful she looked in my arms. She’s like an angel bringing me peace. It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed the quietness of my life. When she’s not around, my head explodes and the numbers become louder. More cluttered. Almost too much to handle. It’s fucking maddening.

Dr. Winters thinks I should go in for an evaluation. But I don’t need therapy. I need her. I need to be with her. In her. Tasting her. Fucking her. Owning her. There’s not a time where I’m not thinking about fucking her so far into submission, she knows who she belongs to. But there’s that part of her that doesn’t require it. She knows who owns her. I fucking do.

I walk over to the front door and step outside as a car pulls away. Barefoot, I walk next door, ready to drag her back, dressed or not. She doesn’t need clothes. I’ll buy her anything she wants. The whole goddamn department store.

I twist the knob to walk in, but it’s locked. What the fuck? I bang on the door. “Luce, open up.” I give it a few seconds, then jiggle the knob again. “Lucy! Seriously, get out here, or I’m gonna take your ass with my cock.” I laugh for a second, trying to mask my anxiousness. I start banging harder, frantic. “Open the fucking door!”

Silence.

I take off behind the house and run three stairs at a time up to her back deck. I pull at the sliding glass door, but it’s locked too. I look inside and don’t see movement. I look through each window I can reach, but the rooms are absent.

“What the fuck?” I reach for my phone to call her when I realize I don’t even know her number. She’s never been out of my sight long enough to have to call her. Panic seizes me. I dial Clara’s number, but get her voicemail.

“Trevor Blackstone. I need the contact information for Lucy. The granddaughter for the Flanders Bay property. Call me back ASAP.”

I hang up. Where the fuck could she have gone? The thought of her possibly injured sends me into a whirlwind. Numbers, probabilities, ratios… There’s no way she would not be answering me. Images of her lying inside hurt or even worse… I don’t think, I act. Picking up the lawn chair, I toss it into the sliding glass door, shattering the glass. I call out her name again as I power through the house.

Nothing.

I search everywhere. But she’s not here. I break down everything I see and create a probable solution. Her belongings are gone. The dresser is cleared of her minimal things. When I race into the bathroom, I find it cleared out.

Everything’s gone.

Including her.

The vase with orange crossandra’s I brought her, once resting beautifully on her bookshelf, now lays on the floor in ruins.

Then I remember the car.

Why the fuck would she leave?

My mind begins to break. She wouldn’t leave me. We were good. She knew the solace she was providing. The way she brought so much peace to my life. I was going to give her everything. I thought we wanted the same things.

She wouldn’t leave. She wouldn’t.

I’m so clouded with confusion as the theories take over. The pain, a stabbing realization causes my chest to constrict. It’s been a lifetime since my mother’s dark words rose to the forefront of my memory, but it all comes crashing down.

You’re a retard boy—a freak show. Look at you with all that babbling. How do you expect me to love you? Anyone to love you? No one will stick around once they learn what you are. You’re better off dead.

Picking up the nearest object, I throw it across the room, the thoughts becoming too consuming to control. I grab something else. Then another, then another. I destroy everything in sight until there’s nothing but destruction surrounding me. Blood flows over my palms and between my fingers, cuts from wood, glass. The pain doesn’t register because my brain is so loud, it's deafening.

Every emotion wrenches my entire being, but betrayal stands out the most.

I should have never let my guard down. I should have never allowed her in.