Eye of the Sh*t Storm by Jackson Ford (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

I am talking to myself. You try being on the run for twelve hours and then snorting half a bag of meth. The horrible comedown seems to have bottomed out now – I can hold a thought in my head, at least.

“I have to hand it to you, Annie,” I say. “You had me worried. I thought you were…”

I sniff hard. Look away. I will not say the word dead. I will not put that awful, fucked-up nonsense into the universe.

“You know,” I say, turning back, speaking without really meaning to, “apparently people in a coma can actually hear what’s going on around them. Maybe you can actually hear me right now. Who knows?” I clear my throat. “It’s 5 a.m., and this is your local news bulletin for the Greater Los Angeles area. A surprise flash flood was stopped in its tracks today by a masked superhero, saving hundreds of lives. Well, she wasn’t masked, but whatever. Also, a boy with electricity powers was stolen by a lunatic who can make you see things that aren’t there. The world may be ending, but sources tell us that local psychokinetic Teagan Frost still makes the best chocolate chip cookies.”

I take a bite to confirm my information. “We’ll be back with more after these messages,” I say, through a full mouth.

As if in response, the public address system in the hall bleeps, paging a doctor to head to the ER. Someone yells something in response, and there’s distant laughter.

“I did stop the flash flood, by the way,” I say. “Stopped that shit cold. Although I…”

Fuck it. “I had to take another hit of meth to get it done. I’m still pretty blasted right now actually. If blasted is actually the way to describe it. Stoned, maybe? I dunno. Let’s stick with blasted. Either way, you didn’t have to keep my ass out of trouble like you said. I got into and out of it all by myself, like a big girl. Well, OK, Africa helped. He showed up, by the way. So did the Legends. I… well, it’s a long story.”

A car honks on the street outside, the driver revving the engine, cutting through the quiet night. Raindrops beat a tattoo on the windowpane, and somewhere in the distance, there’s a peal of soft thunder.

“You’re a total bitch, by the way,” I say.

I mean it to sound light-hearted. A cute little joke. It doesn’t come out like that.

“You were pissed at me because, what, I kept putting myself in danger? I was going to get myself killed and leave you alone, and I was a bad friend? You know how crazy that is, right? Not to mention unfair, and irrational, and… Annie, you can’t just do that to someone. You can’t put that on them. How the hell did you think that was OK?”

I rub my face, standing up out of the chair. Start to pace, moving mindlessly back and forth. I have no idea if she can hear any of this, but it’s not like it matters. It’s all coming out, boiling out of me like water from an overflowing pot.

“Let me tell you something. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m making all of it up as I go along. Every part of my life. But here’s something I do know. Here’s something you can take right to the fucking bank. Back at the homeless camp, you told me – you literally told me, right to my face – that I’m the only friend you’ve got. Well, friends don’t treat each other this way. They don’t get angry and shut each other out and act like one of them is a little child, you asshole.”

The crazy thing is, even as I say this, I realise who does treat people this way. Siblings. Brothers and sisters. My sister Chloe could be amazing, the best big sister anyone could have. Someone I could talk to for hours and go on long horseback rides with and pull pranks on our brother. But she could also be cold. Hurtful. It was like the flick of a switch. She’d turn into this… this robot. Looking at me and sizing me up like an insect, especially if I didn’t do what she wanted me to. She could freeze me out for days sometimes. It hurt like hell, but what was I supposed to do? You can’t choose your family.

So what, is Annie my sister now? A replacement for Chloe? Fuck that. I had a sister, and I’ll never have another, and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that Annie and I have that kind of relationship. We never have. She is not my sister.

It’s wrong to have her be so silent. To have this conversation be one-sided. What would I have said to her if she wasn’t unconscious? Would I have had the guts? I have no idea.

“You lost Paul,” I continue, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I get it. You were hurting, and somehow, you got it into your head that this was the correct response. That it would make you feel better to push me away. Well you know what, Annie? It isn’t, and it won’t.

“I’ve lost people too. My whole freaking family. Mom, Dad, my sister and brother. All gone. I’m not perfect. Believe me, I know. But what happened happened, and I would never take it out on someone else the way you did to me. Especially not someone I considered a…”

A friend.

I grip the edge of the bed so hard that my knuckles turn white. “Fuck you. How fucking dare you? You say to me I’ll never see you again? If I stayed to help the people in the camp? OK. Got it. Message received. You get your wish. I’m out.”

That’s it.

I’m going to stand up. I’m going to walk out of here.

The anger is gone. What’s left behind is a bitter resentment, one I can’t help but luxuriate in. In