Addicted to Witch
Authors: Billy London
Contents
Addicted to Witch
Billy London
Copyright © 2013 Billy London
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.
This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
Cover Art: Bree Archer
Note about eBooks
eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without my written permission. If you like my writing, you won’t do it. Cheers.
CAVEAT
This is a work of erotica. Please don’t be shocked by a little cursing and a little bit of explicitly described nudity. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers. To paraphrase Dr. Franken-N-Furter; “I didn’t write it for you!”
Playlist
I really can’t explain my thought process behind this story. What I will do is blame B.O.B’s Ghost in the Machine for starting it all, and Kings of Leon’s Immortals for finishing it. They made me see things in my head, that ended up here. The music may make this comprehensive but I won’t make any promises!
http://sobillysaysshesays.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/the-witches-promise.html
Chapter One
If Pretty Woman ended the way it was supposed to, Julia Roberts would be a haggard forty-year-old still on the streets. Fairy tales do not exist. If he wants to fuck off, let him fuck right off, and then some.
Helena cleared Ophelia’s text from her phone as Josh placed his bag by the door and cleared his throat. Truthfully, she wanted him to go without saying another word, but the simple fact he called her attention meant she had to have some sort of exchange with him.
She forced herself to look up. “Have you got everything?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
The pause made Helena wince. She knew what was coming, and honestly she wanted to tell him to do one. Why did he want drama? “What?”
“You really want me to leave?” he asked in disbelief.
“It’s not like you ever moved in.” She offered with a shrug, and watched him grinding his teeth. Did he really need to see her cry? It wouldn’t happen. Obviously, he had no idea she just wasn’t that sort of person. Hence their current situation. He had no idea about her. Not the smallest clue.
“Look,” he began, hitching his fists on his hips. “You know why I can’t do this anymore. I can’t take it.”
“I know.”
“It’s not just about us, you’re affecting my job too.”
Oh God, here we go…
“I know,” she said again, hoping to cut him off.
“I can’t meet my targets and get promoted to senior sales if I can’t fucking well sleep.”
And you just refuse to accept that anything’s wrong, Helena.
The conversation they’d had so many times before had turned her into a prophet. Merely seconds later…
“And you just refuse to accept that anything’s wrong, Helena. For a doctor, that’s pretty messed up.”
“Okay, Josh. Point made.”
“I don’t think so. I spoke to Ophelia.”
That got her attention. No one spoke to her sister without repercussions. “You did what?”
“She agrees with me that you need to get help. Whatever your dad did with you isn’t helping.”
“Stop right there,” she said, steel in her tone. He closed his mouth. “How dare you? My family has nothing to do with you.”
“I’m worried about you.”
His face creased with concern as she took a long slow breath, needles of irritation prickling her skin. A clear warning she needed to calm down before things started to fly around the room. “You don’t have the right to talk to my family and certainly not to pass judgement on my dad.” She met his gaze, her voice softening. “Don’t ever talk about my dad.”
“You’re misunderstanding me on purpose,” he huffed. “You don’t want to sort things out at all, do you? You know what? Fine. I’ve put up with so much from you and you haven’t appreciated it one little bit.” He pushed his face so close to hers, she could feel his spittle on her face. “If you want to be alone for the rest of your life, congratulations, you selfish bitch, you’re already there.”
She calmly wiped her cheek. “Yes I am. With or without you. Out. Now. Keys. Please.”
In a childish gesture, he threw them onto the floor before walking out and slamming the front door. She waved her fingertips and the chain slid across the latch. Her keys lifted and landed neatly on their hook. The twisted sensation in her stomach refused to unwind. It had everything to do with defiantly using her abilities inside her home and nothing to do with how hard she’d fought to keep Josh at arm’s length.
Well, she had what she wanted. She now had all the distance in the world. Relationships had never been her strong point. Helena could emote more with the plant in her surgery than she ever could with people. But, having a boyfriend, someone to cuddle up to, had so much appeal she’d ignored all the other icky stuff that went with it. Josh tried, he had really tried. Who could blame him for getting fed up with her? What had he called her the other day? Oh yes, an emotional vacuum. Nice.
The belief was if she stopped using the “m” word, the guilt would stop too. Her fears would come to a crashing halt and what she so desperately wanted would come into being. Normalcy. How she envied that in her patients, moreover in her own family. Maybe speaking to one particular member would help.
She scrolled through her emails for her younger sister’s LA hotel number. It’d be nice to hear she wasn’t an emotional vacuum from someone as wonderfully shallow and materialistic as her sister. Sweet Desdemona, who lived an overtly party-centric life as a commercial model, would definitely make her feel better. When the number finally connected, Helena could hear a party in the background.
“Hells!” came the bellowing crow. “Hold on a minute!”
“Can you hear me, Des?”
“I’m here. What’s wrong?”
She hesitated before saying the two words out loud. “Josh left.”
Her sister sighed. “Well, we knew that was coming, didn’t we?”
“Doesn’t make it any less upsetting,” Helena admitted, pressing her toes against the rug. She supposed anyway. If she was on her own, boyfriend-less, she’d have screaming fits in peace and quiet.
“Oh Hells. Why don’t you go out? Have fun. You don’t laugh anymore.”
Helena rubbed her eye, searching for patience. It’d be easy to get annoyed with her sister for trotting out a platitude, but it wasn’t Des’ fault really. She didn’t know everything. No one did. No one knew. “Easier said than—”
“Reid, leave my bum alone! Yes, I was in Elle Magazine! Listen, Hells, I’m back in London in a fortnight. I’ll call you. Go out!”
“Des…”
The line disconnected. She put the phone down and went to stare at the contents of her fridge. What would make her feel less like throwing her possessions around her home like a crazy woman? Maybe the salmon pâté. And that chocolate tart. With cream. But she’d have to use her hands. God only knew the last thing she needed was to slip into old habits and make inanimate objects move in front of patients. That would definitely wind up the General Medical Council.
***
The water’s surface rippled above her. She blinked, hoping it was just a bad dream. Any minute, she’d wake up and she’d be at home, with her mother. The heat of the African sun would be on her skin and she’d have kisses and cuddles…
Water filled her lungs and the distorted voice of her aunt made her begin to fight against the hands keeping her beneath the surface. She didn’t want to die. Bubbles captured her screams but lethargy began to seep into her muscles.
“Devil child! Witch!”
Opening her eyes, she saw the glint of sharp metal. Her anger came in a surge, swamping every other sensation until she realised the water was gone. She wasn’t drowning anymore. And her aunt was scared. The Bible her mother’s sister dared to hold against her bosom was not going to protect either of them...
Helena woke up alone, cold and shivering. When she had been younger, she had been comforted by her adoptive parents and their unconditional love, constantly reassuring of her safety. But it wasn’t working anymore. She didn’t feel safe. And there wasn’t much else she could do to change it.
Chapter Two
Auden traced the chords across the guitar again and again until his fingers ached. It sounded like shit, but he had to send something. Anything. To fail would mean the final nail in the coffin of his career. It would be so easy to slip into it, the dark, black pit where everything that had ever gone wrong was over his head. Concreted to the ocean floor with meters of water above him.
His answering machine clicked on.
Obviously, I don’t want to talk to you. Beep.
“Auden, it’s Terry. I need a song, I need a track. I need something that will make iTunes explode for this girl, man. Now! Just think how much blow you can afford with the advance I’ll pay you.”
Seven years ago, Auden would have thrown the answering machine into his swimming pool. Nah, that wasn’t true. He’d have made it fly over his gates at the nearest paparazzi with the wave of a hand. Fuck’s sake, he felt caged. Why he hadn’t given up years ago? Sheer stubbornness? A willingness to want to live, despite the times he believed he was little more than a walking corpse?
He scratched at his neck, feeling the dent in his skin where the tie had burned into him, cutting off his oxygen, hanging him until he stopped breathing…
