The Perfect Storm 2

Chapter 138

"Fuck!" Miles yells with his hands in the air as he approaches his pitch-black Lamborghini. The rain continues to tap and fall around us but the sound has almost disappeared. He kicks the gravel around, letting it fly everywhere, making the place chaotic. 

"Fuck!" He yells again, this time louder, kicking the statue by the long entrance, letting it fall and shatter into pieces but Miles lets out another scream, much louder this time. "Fuck you!" He says as he stares at the house and the lights inside.

"Miles." I try to calm him down but his eyes silence me. His eyes are dull with pain and anger.

"Fuck." He breathes and I can tell there's something else wrong. He approaches the Lamborghini's trunk and opens it up, grabbing whatever bottle he finds first and drowning himself in it. 

His head is tilted back and his mouth is open for the harsh liquid to numb down the even hasher pain inside of him. 

The smell of grass and trees linger in the area as Miles gets in his car, his jaw clenched as he sits there clenching the steering wheel with his hands. His knuckles are almost white by the time I step closer to the car. 

I don't know what to do, I don't know what to feel but my feet still take me closer toward the car. I open the car door slowly before getting in, and as soon as I do my mouth opens, "Miles." I speak but he clenches his jaw further.

"Fuck this shit!" He yells before turning his head back, one hand on the wheel and the other behind my chair as he reverses out of the driveway. 

The drive is silent but somehow it's a better silence than at the dinner table. Something about being there felt so trapped, so hurt and so hidden with unresolved pain. 

Miles speeds up and I feel my head uncontrollably press against my seat and I find my whole body being pressed against it, unable to move from the speed. Miles speeds through three red lights, leaving a few cars behind.

"I don't want you to be caught by the police again," I tell him, trying to remind him that his speeding tickets will eventually turn into those two policemen again but Miles stays silent. 

I look down at my feet, tugging at the pearl necklace Miles gave me and unconsciously I glance over at Miles's neck to see the tail and snakehead peeking out underneath his black t-shirt to rest on the front of his shoulders. 

And right under the t-shirt, I notice the small black chain that carries Miles's cross—the promise of change he made to me. All of a sudden we come to a stop and I glance around, not recognizing the area. But after a few seconds, my mind puts the pieces together.

"What are we—"

"I think I broke my foot." He says, clenching his jaw before stepping out, walking as if his leg is fine. My fingers slightly cover my open mouth and I can only hope he's lying to himself but my mind jumps to the broken statue.

"Oh my god, Miles," I whisper to myself at the thought of his foot being broken. 

I quickly run to the register, Miles walking slowly behind me. I tell the woman at the front desk what's wrong and she quickly brings a wheelchair that Miles rolls his eyes to and refuses. 

The woman rushes him into one of the rooms, telling me to stay behind. I nod and take a seat even though I'm more anxious than he is about his broken bone.

Miles's POV

"So your ankle is fractured, but you got lucky, it could have been so much worse." The woman says and even though she looks to be in her thirties, she's wearing a ring along with a top that she's so obviously trying to pull down at every chance she gets. 

My vans shoes lie down on the floor and so do my socks, she attempts to pull my skinny jeans up but is clearly struggling.

"I'm going to need you to take your pants off." She says and I raise a brow and give her a smirk before standing up on my fucked up foot and unzipping the pants slowly as she watches.

"Excuse me." I look at her with dull eyes and she turns around.

"Oh, sorry." She says, blushing through her heavy makeup. I roll my eyes before zipping my pants down and letting them fall down to the floor where she helps me drag them down over my ankle. I sit back down and she continues to examine my damned ankle.

"So is black your favorite color or something?" She asks with a smile, eyeing my boxers.

"Something like that," I smirk as she continues to examine my fucked up ankle.

"So what happened?" She asks, turning my ankle as I try to hold in the fucking pain that drowns me.

"Nothing."

"That's a first." She tells me but I continue to watch her as she examines my foot.

"So, can I leave?" I ask with slight wid eyes. The last thing I need is for Madison to be waiting out there with random creeps and their fucking allergies.

"Not yet." She smiles at me and I clench my jaw, not making eye contact and instead, staring at my broken foot.

"I'll put you in a cast, any specific color you want?"

"Black," I answer with a smile and she nods.

"Is that your girlfriend waiting for you?" The woman asks, her eyes staring up at mine as she wraps wet white paste over my foot.

"Is this cement or some shit?"

"Don't like answering questions?" She presses and it's unbelievable how this bitch can't take a hint. I stay silent and instead watch the cast being formed on my foot.