Love Sick (Heart Memory Transfer) by Monica James

Author:Monica James [James, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

I wake in a cold sweat for two reasons.

The first—I had the worst nightmare; however, it was just my brain reliving the events of yesterday.

And the second is that Alanna stands over my bed, watching me.

“Hello, sleepyhead.”

Sleepyhead? I’m pretty sure I’ve been asleep for five minutes as fatigue finally overtook me. I wanted to go to Luna, but Alanna set up camp outside the bathroom, ensuring no one could go to her as she sees the way Daddy watches her.

“Hey,” I croak, sitting up and brushing the hair from my eyes.

It’s still dark out. I can’t remember the last time I saw the time, and as for what day or month it is, I have no fucking clue.

“Are you hungry? I made breakfast.”

I don’t have time to answer before Alanna is yanking off the blanket and pulling me out of bed. I’m shirtless and she makes a point of looking at my chest before lingering a little too long on the front of my boxers.

I reach for my jeans and need to sit to put them on because of this damn bandage on my knee.

“I’ll change your dressing after we eat.”

Hell will freeze over before I thank Alanna, so I simply give her a stiff-upper-lip smile. I don’t bother with a shirt as it’ll give me an excuse to use the bathroom to shower and see Luna.

I hobble from the room, not needing the crutches, which is a small win for me. But I can’t allow Alanna to get wind of my recovery. If she does, Luna won’t be the only person tied up.

Alanna purposely avoids the bathroom, and I limp behind her. She has a wheelchair positioned near the stairs. I want to walk, but I sit and allow her to escort me down the stairs. She wheels me into the kitchen.

Bobby is sitting at the table, happily eating his pancakes. No sign of Daddy, however. I don’t know his name, and I don’t want to know it because it won’t make a difference when I rip out his spine and beat him to death with it.

I don’t know if he and Alanna are, in fact, related. It would explain why she’s so fucked up. But it doesn’t excuse her behavior. Nor does it change the fact that I am going to take great pleasure in killing her.

I was fucking insane for ever thinking she inspired my music. What she’s done has changed the way I look at life and how I feel, and that’s what’s inspired me. These feelings of pure hatred I’ve never felt before because I’ve never hated anyone in my life until I met Alanna.

Artists need emotion to create—some use heartbreak or love. Me? It seems unadulterated disgust and revulsion is what I need to create the most fucked-up music which I am most proud of. It shouldn’t surprise me, however, as I’ve always gravitated to where the shadows like to hide.

I sit at the table and offer my fist to Bobby. He looks at it before fist-bumping me when Alanna turns her back to us.

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