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Doctor Feelgood: (A Bad Boy Doctor Novel) by Weston Parker (142)

Chapter 4

Ian

 

I got home a little after midnight, the girl bringing a few of her friends to the party in the lady’s room. I felt like shit for using them, but the same voice that pushed me farther and farther away from being a good guy piped up non-stop. It was a good reminder that I was nothing more than a piece of ass for them anyway. We were all at fault, so who was I to play the saint? I wouldn't even know where to begin if I had to walk that tight rope.

Sinking down on the couch in my shitty little apartment, I flipped on the TV and stared at the static-filled screen for a few minutes before closing my eyes. I needed to get a little bit of sleep before tomorrow. I had an early afternoon shift and my brother had texted that the interview would be at ten a.m. in La Jolla. Seemed the good Senator knew how to live with the best of them. Maybe he could rub off on me.

 

I reached for her like I always did when we finished making love. She jerked from me and laughed, sliding to the edge of the bed and glaring over her shoulder.

"Don't." Her words were harsh, but I was almost used to them. She had never been anything but hateful. Why did I put myself through this shit again? Right. Love.

"Baby, come back over here and let me hold you. You know I hate it when you leave after we make love." I brushed the bed just beside her, wanting so badly to pull her back into my arms. I just needed one night in her arms like we used to have. I just wanted one, but it was too much to ask for.

"Ian. Stop acting like a fucking girl. We don't make love. We fuck. We haven't made love since we were kids and you had plans of actually making something out of yourself." She laughed and stood up, walking away from me to lean toward the mirror.

I rolled onto my back and pressed my arm across my face. She was right. I was a piece of shit and deserved nothing more than a quick fuck by a crack whore, which is exactly what she had become... because of me.

The girl who stole my heart in high school was long gone and this monster took her place. I stayed beside her, begging for attention simply because I needed redemption. I dragged her into the fucked-up world we lived in. I would take whatever she threw my way and ask for another serving of it.

She turned as tears filled her eyes. I scrambled to my knees, the sheet falling and leaving me naked, our sex still covering my body.

"What's the matter, baby?" I moved to the edge of the bed as she held up her hands, slapping at the air in front of her.

"No. Stay back. Tell them to stay back, Ian. Don't let them get me. Don't let..." Her scream pierced me with such force that I had to cover my ears. I tried to get out of the bed to get to her, but I couldn't push past the force of her scream, the sound having personified into an entity much greater than me.

I glanced up as blood began to trickle from her little button nose.

"No. Stop it. Stop screaming, Mandy. You're busting the veins in your nose, baby." I moved toward the floor, but the ground simply sunk as my feet pressed into it. I grunted and pushed forward until her cries got to be too much.

She cried out again. Blood poured from her nose and ears, her little puckered lips white and cracked, her eyes wild and hair half pulled out. She thrusted her arms toward me, palms up. I turned from her, closing my eyes at the sight before me. The track lines from the needles on her pretty flesh left it bruised and puffy with infection.

"Look at me. Look at what I've become. Look at what you did to me." She screamed over and over as I began to cry, unable to help myself.

I turned back and let out a scream that shook me to the core of my soul. "I know, baby. Forgive me. Please God, Mandy... forgive me."

 

Jerking up from the couch, I gasped for air until I realized where I was. I pressed my head into my hands, the sweat covering me having dripped all over the leather couch and made a fucking mess. I got up and let out a long groan as I walked to the bathroom.

"How long will I have to suffer the demons of my past?" I stopped by the bathroom and turned on the facet, leaning over and splashing water on my face. I hated to sleep, simply for that very reason. She was always there. Always waiting to remind me of what I'd done by bringing her into my world.

"I fucking hate you," I growled at myself in the mirror and turned away, tugging a towel from the rack and moving to the bedroom. I changed into a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt before going in search of my tennis shoes. A two-hour run on the beach would do me some good. Something had to give. It was three in the morning and I was officially done sleeping for the night.

I walked out into the chilly morning air and slipped my ear buds into my ears, asking God for redemption for my past just in case he had a break in dealing with the sick and dying. Perhaps if he took a coffee break at the right moment, he would hear me and save me from the terror of my dreams. I had only loved one woman in my life and having to bury her because of my own addictions becoming hers left me unwilling to ever try again. Sex and work... sex and work...

I turned the corner past my rundown apartments and picked up my speed, needing to burn everything from my mind. The interview with the Senator wouldn't be intimidating, simply because all I could be was me and if that wasn't enough, fuck it and fuck him too. I wasn't into playing games or pretending to be anything for anyone long-term. To get a piece of ass for an hour or so? Sure. I'd be a nice guy, but that wasn’t too far from the truth. It never served me well, and yet I couldn’t stop. The asshole persona only lasted so long.

I thought back to my interview at the hospital when I’d scored my current job, trying to remember the details. I worked through all of the interview questions I could remember, and spouted out answers as quickly and truthfully as I could. I had some good examples of teamwork and having to deal with difficult people. If the Senator gave me a character test I'd pass with flying colors. I was a recovered drug addict.

What personality did I need to have to get what I wanted? Easy enough, consider it done.

The run went by too fast and I found myself in the shower, washing with expedience in hopes of getting there early. The memory of the night before with the girls in the bathroom rolled over me and I took a deep breath, trying to not beat myself up too much over it. They wanted an orgy and I simply complied. The sound of their combined moans as I drove into one of them, fingered another and sucked hard at the last one’s pussy was almost too much.

I was a one-woman man. I always had been, even in the worst of times. Some part of my soul shriveled, not so much at the thought of using the girls, but at the stark realization that they’d used me.

"I’m such a sick fuck," I growled at myself and dried off, working hard not to hate myself too much before meeting with Mr. Moore. He would see right through me if he was worth his weight in salt. If not... I'd have a new job by the end of the day. Babysitting a spoiled rich kid couldn't be too bad. Hopefully she was hot. That would help me get through the days if nothing else, but not too hot. Looks always had a way of pulling me into the shallow end of the pool. It wasn’t a dangerous place to be unless the little bitch had a personality, and God forbid, a heart. Then I was in serious trouble.