Twisted Souls… Pt2 by A.G

My head is pounding, and it’s getting worse as I move myself off the couch and turn the TV off.

I really hate sleeping with the TV on.

The banging gets louder as I collect my feet beneath me and find my balance, the light peering in through the living room curtains tells me it’s later than I initially thought. It’s at least noon.

The sound of the pounding seems off somehow, like it’s around my head instead of coming from inside it, it’s not until it suddenly stops that I realize it’s been coming from the front door and not my head.

I drag my feet to the door and peer out the small window panel just in time to see the FedEx guy pulling out of my driveway. A giant sticker slapped on my front door, saying, “Sorry we missed you.”

Damn itnow I’m going to have to go down to the office later. I bet it was from Jack too. Which means I can expect a call from him later this evening.

Like I really needed the extra work today; I swear that old man does nothing but work and work. When I landed this assistant job, I thought it would be breezy. “A part-time gig” is what was advertised.

 Not even close to part-time, I do a lot of editing for this man, both work and personal, had to hire freelancers for numerous projects he’s got going on, and even coordinated the construction team that remodeled his den and worked his elaborate new landscape.

The things rich people do with money. I do like being in that mansion, though.

I grabbed up my mess in the living room and proceeded to the kitchen; while the coffee started perking, I washed the dishes and began my Sober up Hannah cleaning routine. Which involved a Gatorade, a couple of Ibuprofen, and the smooth voice of Frank Sinatra as I moved around the room.

Not what one normally does when they’re dehydrated and their stomach is swirling everything around like a tornado. But I was never one for normal.

I found my phone dead. And plugged it into the charger I keep by the couch and continued my way through the living room and hallway, tossing a pile of towels into the washer as I finished my sweep through the bathroom.

I peeked into my room and decided to circle back to that mess.

On the other hand, my study was now the prime time for me to tackle it. I opened the curtains and let the light in, squinting as the light hit me.

The dust particles fluttered through the room, so I opened the two windows and set my small fan in one to help pull the fresh air in and circle the room.

Going to my desk, I quickly tidied up the papers on my desk and verified my laptop was still plugged in. I had a bad habit of forgetting to charge the damn thing until it was almost too late to save my work.

I hear my phone ping off in the living room, and that’s my cue to stop cleaning. The moment is gone, and I’m honestly feeling starved.

I snatch my iPad up from my desk and go pour myself a cup of coffee while I read through the emails and the latest news hits for the morning. I hear my phone ping again, but I’m hungry. It can wait.

I pop a couple of English muffins into the toaster and pull out the butter and strawberry jam from the fridge, notating that the fridge looks bare and that I’ll need to stop at the grocery store while I am out later. I butter my muffins and load them with jam before plopping myself down on the couch and looking at my phone. Derek has been texting me since last night…

“Are you there?”

“Is there any way we can talk?”

“I just need you right now.”

And then this morning…

“I feel like a puppy begging you. Can I see you today?”

“I’ll be down at the bridge after work. Could I see you?”

Fuck me… I don’t need this today, not right now.



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