Asher

Alone in Max's quiet living room, the weight of guilt feels heavy on my shoulders, like an invisible burden I can't shake off.

Everything feels different now, tainted by the events of last night. Emma's face haunts my thoughts, her hurt expression etched into my mind like a painful reminder of my own mistakes.

As I pace back and forth across the polished marble floor, my footsteps echo in the empty room. How did I let things spiral out of control like this? How could Clare do that to me? What the hell is going on?

I never meant to hurt Emma; never imagined I'd find myself in such a mess. But as I try to make sense of things, my mind keeps telling me there's more to this story. Why would Clare roof me? What would she gain by doing that?

The memory of her apartment flashes before my eyes, fragmented and hazy like a nightmare I can't escape. I remember the taste of alcohol on my lips and the blurred lines between reality and illusion. But beyond that, everything is a blur, a jumbled mess of confusion and regret.

Grabbing my phone, my fingers hover over Emma's name, but I can't bring myself to call her.

Did you sleep with Clare? Her words echo in my mind, each repetition driving the dagger of guilt deeper into my heart.

I can still vividly recall the pain in her eyes, the mere memory causing a pang of guilt to twist in my chest. 

Fuck! What the hell happened last night?

The arrival of the doctor and a couple of nurses Max had arranged briefly broke the tension between Emma and me earlier today, and the headache raging in my skull made it difficult to focus on anything else.

I barely heard what the doctor said as he examined me, the words lost in a haze of pain.

All I know is that I took the medicine he prescribed and soon made my way to my old room with the help of the nurses.

Emma's gaze followed me, her silent presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my jumbled thoughts. I silently pleaded for her to stay with me, and to my relief, she did.

But now, as I stand alone in the dimly lit room, the silence and her absence weigh heavily upon me.

The note she left behind is secured in my pocket, a simple yet profound reminder of her absence. I pick it up, tracing the elegant curve of her handwriting with a trembling finger.

"Call me when you wake up," she wrote; her words a lifeline in the darkness of my despair.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my phone, but before I can press call, a notification pops up from an unknown number.

"I'm so sorry!" The words flash on my screen, jolting me out of my thoughts. My heart lurches in my chest, a sudden surge of adrenaline flooding my veins.

For a fleeting moment, I'm paralyzed, unable to process the flood of emotions coursing through me. Gathering my wits, I manage to type out a response; my fingers trembling over the keys. "Who's this?"

Another text comes through almost immediately: "I erased all the pictures I took."

My mind races as I try to piece together the fragments of information. Could it be Clare? The thought sends a surge of anger coursing through me. How dare she think a simple apology could erase the damage she's caused?

Without hesitation, I dial the number, my body shaking with a mix of fury and desperation. The phone rings once, twice, and then she picks up.

"Hello?" her voice is soft, clearly hesitant.

"Clare?" I say, my voice tight with barely contained rage.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line before she responds. "Yes, it's me," she says, her tone tinged with reluctance. "I'm so sorry, Asher. I never meant for things to go this far."

I feel my temper flare, hot, and uncontrollable. "You never meant for things to go this far?" I explode, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger. "You fucking drugged me, Clare! You betrayed me in the worst possible way! I fucking trusted you and you—" I close my eyes, my throat tight with anger.

There's a heavy silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I wonder if she's hung up. But then she speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know," she says, not even trying to defend herself. "I know what I did was wrong, and I'm so sorry. But you have to understand, I was desperate. I had to..."

Desperate? The word rings hollow in my ears, and I struggle to comprehend how anyone could justify such deceit. "Desperate for what?" I demand, my voice sharp with disbelief. "What could justify what you did?"

She hesitates, and when she speaks again, her voice is strained. "I can't tell you," she says, her words rushed and breathless. "But you have to believe me, Asher. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could go back in time, I'd do everything differently."

I clench my jaw, struggling to rein in my anger. "Where are you, Clare?" I ask, my voice low and controlled. "We need to talk. You need to come back and sort this mess out."

"I'm sorry... I just... I can't come back."

As I listen to her words, a faint announcement echoes in the background, barely audible over the phone. "Next stop, Newark Penn Station," a voice announces over the subway speaker, the distinct tone of New Jersey Transit unmistakable.

The realization hits me like a bolt of lightning, causing my heart to skip a beat. Could Clare be hiding in New Jersey? It's a possibility I couldn't have considered, but now, with this clue, it seems all too real.

"Where are you, Clare?" I take a deep breath. "Please."

There's a tense silence on the other end of the line, and then she speaks again, her voice barely audible over the static crackle of the connection. "I can't," she says, her words filled with a sense of finality. "You don't understand, Asher. If they find out I talked to you,... If they find out I've been helping you... They'll kill me."

My heart sinks at her words; a cold knot of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. "Who's behind this, Clare?" I press, my voice urgent. "Who's pulling the strings?"

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by her whispered admission of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"Clare?" I shout, but she's already gone, the line dead and empty.

A surge of frustration and rage courses through me, boiling over until I can't contain it any longer. "Fuck!" I roar; the word tearing from my lips with a force that reverberates through the empty room.

My hands clench into fists at my sides, and I find myself pulling at my hair in a desperate attempt to release some of the pent-up tension that is threatening to consume me.

In a haze of anger and determination, I snatch my car keys from the table, the metal biting into my palm as I grip them tightly. "I'm going to figure this out," I mutter to myself, the words a mantra driving me forward.

With swift, purposeful strides, I storm out of the room and head for the garage, my mind already spinning with plans and possibilities.

Sliding behind the wheel of my car, I take a moment to collect myself as the engine rumbles to life beneath me. The sound is oddly comforting, grounding me in the present moment amidst the chaos of my thoughts.

Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I focus on the steady rhythm of my breathing, willing myself to calm down.

Something in my gut tells me Clare roofing me is just the tip of the iceberg. Someone is behind her actions. And I'll be damned if I don't find out who. I won't rest until I do.

The image of Emma's tear-streaked face flashes before my mind's eye, igniting a fresh wave of determination within me. I can't let her down.

I won't.

With a decisive flick of the ignition, I pull out of the driveway and onto the deserted streets; the cold night air whipping through the open windows.

As I drive, my mind races, searching for any clue, any lead that might help me unravel the tangled mess of lies and deception.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hits me. Years ago, Clare mentioned her grandmother lived in New Jersey. It's a slim lead, but it's all I have to go on.

Without hesitation, I reach for my phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I dial up old contacts from the magazine, hoping someone might have an address.

After a few texts and phone calls to former colleagues, I finally receive an address—a glimmer of hope in the darkness of my despair.

With renewed determination, I set a course for New Jersey; the road stretching out before me like a lifeline in the night.

Whatever lies ahead, whatever truths I uncover, one thing is certain: I won't stop until I find Clare and bring an end to this nightmare once and for all.

*****

A/N: What now, guys?! Stay tuned for the next chapters!

Thank you so much for your comments and support in chapter 30! This has been a rough couple of days for me so having you all by my side makes this writing journey much more meaningful! 

Love, 

Celeste