THE SPACE BETWEEN

Chapter 23

Trigger Warning(s):  Language and sexual situations.

(Missi's POV)

I was dripping wet as I hurried across the bedroom floor. I grabbed a pair of shorts, undies and a top out of the dresser and struggled to get them on without drying off. I was hell bent on getting out of there before the lord and master was done showering. I slipped into a pair of shoes and hurried downstairs, grabbing my purse and keys from the table as I rushed to my car. The intense heat blasted me as I opened the car door. My hands were shaking, and I kept missing the hole for the ignition. I wasn't afraid that Shannon might keep me from leaving, I just needed to get away from him as fast as possible. I breathed a sigh of relief when the key finally hit the hole.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I cleared the gate. I was at a loss about where I was going. There wasn't anyone I trusted enough to turn to right now. The ones closest to me had agendas—each with a version of what they thought I should do, feel, think or say.

Having narrowly avoided a couple fender benders I thought better of driving aimlessly. Quite literally I headed for the hills—the only place I knew where there was any chance of being alone. I hesitated as I approached Shannon's and my spot. I couldn't go there. I needed a place without memories and kept going until I saw a place where I could pull off the road.

After a couple failed tries, I managed to park the car alongside some overgrown bushes. My head rested against the steering wheel as I shut off the ignition, hoping all-wheel drive would get me up over the craggy incline when I left. Getting out of the car proved painful as the branches on the bushes scratched at my arms and legs. Once clear of them I started walking and found a large rock that looked like a decent place to sit.

Haze was hanging over the city and dulled the view much like the fog that followed me around every day. I longed for the times when Shannon and I had marked numerous occasions at our spot. During those happier times, the view hadn't really mattered.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The breeze was almost nonexistent, but what little there was blew gently over my skin. Its light touch stirred what I hoped to avoid just this once—the steady stream of tears rolling down my face.

I didn't need written notification to determine where my relationship with Shannon stood. He'd begun playing a game I was all too familiar with, one played by those who depended on mind-altering drugs for support. Normal games are played with balls or game pieces, but this one uses stinging, hateful annotations and criticisms. There were no boundary lines on this playing field and the goal was to see who could inflict the most pain. Shannon had served the ball smack dab in the middle of my court. He wanted me to engage so I'd end up looking like the villain. Experience had already taught me that engagement led to a continuous battle where everyone loses. That's why my urge to escape had been so desperate. I was too close to returning his serve with a vengeance.

There I sat, reminding myself that I'd written a book about surviving the perils of alcoholism and drug abuse. I'd been the star character who'd risen up from the ashes and found my way out of the chaos. I felt like a hypocrite now. I was facing the same thing, but now I wasn't strong enough to fight or walk away. Maybe I just wasn't strong enough yet.

Broken pieces of me that remained from childhood were begging to be heard, telling me that I could fix everything if I was smarter, prettier, or more loving. That was another game I'd played before. Trying to live up to everyone else's expectations was classic codependent behavior. Nothing was ever enough and all I'd done was shatter my ego by trying. I had no realization that the person I needed to make happy was myself. I already knew being a people pleaser wasn't necessary in order to feel worthy of anyone's love.