Page 5 of Maddest Temptation

Mamma was scared.

My hands were clammy, and fire raced through my body. The wool dress I wore suddenly felt too suffocating. I dug my nails deeper into my palms trying to keep my emotions at bay.

Mamma had lived through so much; she has survived an abusive, cheating, husband. She survived being humiliated. She survived the loss of her son. She was going to survive this, too.

“I’ll be there.” I took my mother’s hand and gave it one hard squeeze.

When I arrived back at my apartment, I sat staring at the walls until they began to move, closing in on me. I was shaking all over. This couldn’t be happening. Hadn’t God ruined my life enough times already? What else could he take from me?

I headed to my room, opened my safe, and removed the last remaining Ziplock I had left. I’d made a promise three months ago to Marie and myself to never use drugs again, but my world was breaking, I was falling to my knees and there was no one to help me to my feet. I needed an escape. To run away.

I needed bliss.

2

FRANCESCA

Happiness could be found at the end of a rolled dollar bill, and freedom at the bottom of a hard liquor bottle. I welcomed the numbness in my body. I loved this feeling of floating through time and space. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Nothing could stop me. I was invincible.

The neon lights flashed around me; my body swayed to the electronic music. Sweat beaded at my breasts and raced down my back, but even still, I didn’t care. Tonight was about forgetting. Silencing the voices in my head was my biggest priority.

I stopped at the bar to refill my glass; the cute bartender smiled at me as he refilled it with vodka. I took one large sip and sighed as the cold liquid raced down my throat. Mixing alcohol with drugs in this state was probably not a good idea, but I didn’t particularly care, as long as it made me forget. Tomorrow, I’d regret it, but tonight, I wanted to feel alive.

“Where were you?” Antoine grabbed me by the arm. “Shit, what did you do, Frankie?”

“Nothing,” I pulled away, but he didn’t let go. His grip wasn’t hurting but it was solid and strong. “I wanted to have fun.”

“You promised me, Francesca.” He reminded me.

“It was just a line,” I explained trying to make him worry less. I hated that look on him, especially when it was directed at me. “I promise I’m fine.”

A flash of a neon pink light passed through us, and I closed my eyes as my head spun. “I’m taking you home.” Antoine decided and began to pull me away from the dance floor, but I refused to move.

“I’m not a child.” I said petulantly.

“No, chérie, but you are acting like one.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled my hair from the back of my neck hoping it would soothe me. I was burning with the heat of a thousand furnaces. My entire body blazed, even my blood was boiling.

From the corner of my eye, I watched a beautiful man staring at us, the neon lights cast a glow over him, making my insides twist. Except his eyes were solely on Antoine and instantly my cheeks burned. Of course, the beautiful man was interested in someone else. I hadn’t come here for flirting or that kind of fun, but it was good to feel wanted at times.

“Your friend is waiting for you.”

Antoine looked toward the beautiful man, then back at me, like he was caught in a dilemma. “I’m taking you home,” he said with finality.

“I can take care of myself,” I snapped, having the impression he had only come tonight so he could babysit me. I understood he was worried about my well-being, but I didn’t care. I wanted the bliss, the numbness. The silence.

He opened his mouth to argue, but I shook my head. “I’m a big girl, I can handle it, go have some fun.” I placed my hands over his shoulders and shook him. “That gorgeous man wants your attention, don’t keep him waiting.”

Antoine’s lips turned upwards, and he tried to hide the glimmer in his eyes. I was keeping him from doing what he truly wanted to do. “Go.” I turned him toward the man and shoved him through the crowd.

“Text me when get home,” he shouted over the music, and I laughed.

When Antoine was gone, I stared at my glass of vodka and drank it halfway. Sometimes, I wished to be as carefree as Antoine or as lively as Marie. It was a terrible thing, but I was jealous of them, of their lives, and their dreams. Pushing those thoughts aside, I went in search of something else to keep me numb.

Two hours later, my tired legs led me out of the club, I could barely walk straight, my eyes were trying to focus on what was before me. Before I realized where I was going, a car honked loudly, skidding to a stop millimeters from me. My heart jumped to my throat and my hands flew to my stomach as if I could keep the contents in there. By some miracle it did.

A man stepped out of the car shouting and gesticulating like a maniac. My ears buzzed; my pulse raced. It was hard to understand what he was saying as my head fought to process that I had almost been run over.