Very Bad Things

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2014 Sam Crescent &
Jenika
Snonw

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-103-5

Cover Artist: Jay
Aheer

Editor:
Karyn
White

ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

VERY BAD THINGS

Sam Crescent &
Jenika
Snow

Copyright
© 2014

Chapter One

It was never supposed to be so hard to live life.
Fiona Sterling climbed the stairs of her rundown apartment wishing for time to
fly by so that she could start to look forward to the summer. Hugging her thick
jacket around her, she tried not to think of the layers of snow she’d just
walked through. If the snow was outside, her apartment was going to be like an
ice block. Heating her small place was harder than she had imagined. Her
landlord was a tight ass who refused to spend any more money than was
necessary.

Climbing the stairs she tried to do anything to keep
the heat locked inside. Stopping by her door, she dug out her keys feeling the
weight of the world on her shoulders. Her life had become nothing but mundane.
There was a time when she had been surrounded by love, laughter, even joy. Now,
she was surrounded by the cold, despair, and the occasional look of pity.

One year ago her entire family had been on a plane
heading for the Alps. Her mother, father, two brothers, and a sister were going
to watch their parents retake their vows. She had had to stay to finish off her
exams at college before she could head out. After booking a ticket for the
following day, Fiona wished her family well and promised to see them soon.

She never saw them again. The plane hit unexpected bad
weather and was brought down by one of the worst storms in history. No more
family, no more happiness, and her life had become dead on the inside and
outside. Quitting college, she never went for her final year, and the debts
from the funeral ate up whatever inheritance she had. Living life from one day
to the next had become her future.

Pushing hair off her face, she grabbed her keys, and
opened the door to her place. The apartment was simple. She had a living space,
bathroom, one bedroom, and a small kitchen area.

Most days she could get from one end of her apartment
to the other in ten steps. Men could probably do it in five, but she was a
woman.

Shaking her head, she closed the door, putting on the
six locks she’d purchased the moment she rented the place. Buying a place
of her own
was out of the question. She was lucky she could
afford to rent.

Fiona kept her coat on as she walked to her small
fridge, pulling out a can of soda and taking a seat on the single chair in the
room. She didn’t own a television or a computer. A couple of books and a
library card were all she needed to keep her occupied when she wasn’t working.

She didn’t even open her can of soda before the moans
and banging could be heard on either side of her. The feminine groans and
masculine growls made her roll her eyes. There was no way sex was always that
good
.
The couple of men she’d been with had been all about
the grunting and groaning but failed at everything else. The first time she’d
had sex, she accepted the fact it was going to suck. It always did for a woman.
The second, third, fourth, and fifth time, it should have been better. Sex for
her, it sucked. Was it her or the men she was with? She didn’t know.

Staring down at her soda, she chuckled. She was
sitting in her freezing cold apartment with her coat still on and yet she was
going to drink a cold soda. Her drink wasn’t going to help to keep her warmed
up. Standing up, she placed the can in the fridge and filled the small kettle
she owned. Putting a large spoonful of cheap coffee inside, she grabbed the
sugar canister only to discover it was empty.

Pressing her head to the cupboard, she moaned.

Come on, life, give me a break.

Rubbing at her eyes, listening to the couples on
either side of her having mind-blowing sex, she wanted to cry. Instead, she
opened her door and closed it softly behind her. Walking across the hall, she
knocked on Jake’s door. The guy who lived opposite her she was sure was a drug
dealer. He was covered in ink, pale, and she saw the track marks that covered
his arms. All of that aside, he never had a problem letting her have sugar,
coffee, or even some bread if she needed it.

Jake opened seconds later.
He looked sick, pale, and he was sweating.

“
Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step back.

“
Sure, sugar. What can I do for you?” He looked down the hall then at her
before looking the other way.

“
Is this a bad time? I can come another time.” She held her jar in her
hand, feeling like she interrupted something even scarier.

“
No, it’s fine.” He ran a shaking hand down his face. “I’m just losing my
mind.”

Blood trailed down his arms from the needle marks. He
must have been shaking when he injected.

“
No, really, it’s fine,” Fiona said. She went to take a step back, but he
grabbed her arm. He was surprisingly strong for an addict. In the last couple
of weeks she’d noticed he looked thinner, more out of it, than ever before.

“
Come on, Fiona. I can help you out. What do you need?”

Before she knew what was happening, she was dragged
into his apartment with the door closed, locked even.

“
Erm
, I was
wondering if I could borrow some sugar.” She held up her empty jar, giving it a
shake.

“
Sure. I’ve got some here somewhere.” He released her arm, and she
watched him walking away.

She didn’t look around his apartment. He rarely let
her inside, and she wasn’t interested in seeing what was on display.

“
When are you going to go back to college and finish that final year?” he
asked.

Fiona heard him rummaging around in stuff. She never
came into his apartment, but Jake had visited her place. He was the first
person she’d told about her parents and what happened to her family. Without
knowing him long, she’d pretty much told him her life story. She should have
learned to keep her mouth shut. Jake thought she needed to stop living in the
past and start living in the now.

He kept telling her to go back to school and finish
her studies so she could start her career. The stigma with drugs always made
her think people who took them had a death wish and only wanted to bring others
down around them. Jake knocked down all of her stereotypes.

“
I can’t.”

“
Sure. You’re just looking for any excuse not to do anything.” He
appeared with her jar filled up. “Let me tell you, honey, life is only going to
get worse. I promise you. You’ve got a short time to make a difference.”

She took the sugar from him, frowning. “What about
you? When are you going to stop doing … what you do?”

Staring down at the ground, she wished the ground
would open up and swallow her. Not once in the last year she’d known Jake had
she brought up his drug use. He smiled at her.

“
I’m a lost cause, baby.”

His eyes changed, and he looked sad. What was he
thinking about?

“
Nothing is lost until it’s completely gone. My family, wishing they were
back here with me is a lost cause. They’re dead, and they’re never coming back.
You’re still alive, Jake. You can make a difference.”

He reached out, touching her face. “That’s what I like
about you, Fiona. After everything you’ve been dealt, you’re still so fucking
sweet, seeing the best in everything.” Jake dropped his hand. “I fucked up, and
I know it’s not going to be long before I’m not living with it anymore.”

“
What are you saying?” she asked.

“
Nothing, honey.
You better get out of here.”

He took her arm and led her toward the door. Something
turned in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how she knew, only that her
gut was telling her that something bad was about to happen.

“
Jake?”

His front door was in sight. One moment it was closed,
the next moment, it was slammed open. Jake only tensed. He didn’t yell or
shout. Glancing up at him, she saw he wasn’t surprised to see a man standing in
the doorway.

Jerking her gaze toward the man, she saw the scar
first. A long uneven scar ran across his cheek as if he’d gotten it while he’d
been jumping up and down. The mark was uneven and glided down to his neck.
Whoever stitched it hadn’t cared if they did a good or bad job of the scar.