Dear Z,

I say this with a lot of thought but you are a human being who is allowed to have feelings. Stop thinking that having an overflow of emotions makes you less of a man.

It does not. In fact, I think it makes you look like beautiful beast....

• • •

I stifle a smirk. This is getting dangerously addictive.

All my life, I have been addicted to few things: sleep, chocolate, porn and sex. Harmless things, right? Not in my case.

These were the building blocks that became my safe place after the only tragedy that could be the headline of my entire life. Death of my parents.

I will go in order as how these harmless things became the forbidden apples in my existence. When I received the news that would change my entire being, I locked myself up in my room and slept. I just slept. It was like a hidden magical palace that sheltered me from my reality. I saw dreams I don't remember, I saw dreams where I cried while I slept and awoke, I saw good dreams which I half remembered and the bad ones, I got up almost immediately and then waited out till it was morning only to sleep back into my cozy coven.

After that, Adrianna's parents came barging in. Mostly her mother, Hilda. She stormed in, taking over my life and said take all the time you need but you need to eat. So she handed the second dreaded addiction: a bar of Hershey's chocolate.

Oh, it looked like angels of pure delight secretly harboring the death cast. And I snatched it and left sleep to be with my new best friend called Hershey's and his small brothers called Kisses and his cousins called Toblerone and many more of their family members and outcasts. I knew them all.

Then, I took a look at the mirror one day and I barely recognized myself. I was ashamed to go out looking like this when I always did take pride in my looks mainly because I remind myself of my parents. However, I didn't see them because I saw only a stranger who let herself go to waste.

But it was hard to let my chocolate addiction go away.

One day when I lay in bed, hiding and scrolling through my phone where I came across those bubble pop-ups of two people naked and having sex. I clicked on it, out of boredom and I was welcomed into the slithy site of pornhub.

Now many may find porn disgusting and at first I did, but when I got a look of the bodies these women porn stars had, I was flabbergasted. And it wasn't the breast implants or huge buttocks the got me hooked. It was their flat abs that was like a washboard and the fact they could see their feet.

So I challenged myself to get to their size however, it was rough coming from eating only sweet to strict dieting with food that have good nutritional value. I realized I needed a reminder blinking at me everyday. I needed to see hot men and women naked and fucking with their dramatic over the top performances, their horrible acting skills and the too much cum shots.

And I got hooked. Hooked till I became a little too shredded and saw how the human blood red men took a keener interest in me. And having watched so much porn, with the same tune playing, I got trapped into one night stands with sex machines. Oh I did check myself regularly. And then transferred to only having sex with serious boyfriends.

But sex was a must.

Which is why I got bored with all the men I have been with. Why most of my ex's cried when I broke up with them and slowly that addiction faded away.

Now I was in a deep grunt. Looking for something. And that something seemed to be a mean, more than six feet tall, bulky and so serious and cruel he wished me dead.

It was outlandish to think I was provoking Z by just being all sluttish and I really don't know what I was doing. This was a new side of me. All I know he was frustrated and confused and totally dicked out. I am mentally manically laughing. I'm such a bitch and I love it. And I want to do more but first I need to hit the loo.

So I stretch and get up. Telling to no one in the room that I'm going to the bathroom. I run my hand down my waist and let it fall as I walk towards the direction of the nearest bathroom.

I can feel his eyes on me all the way.

I enter and close the door behind me. When I see my face on the toilet mirror, I suck my teeth and shake my head, letting my hair fall over my face. I am flushed. My cheeks are red and as I place the back of my palms against them, they feel hot.

When I drop down my pants, I unconsciously rub my thighs together and I'm startled to find a sticky feeling in between. Am I turned on by what just happened? Apparently yes, my body liked it more than I did.

I did my business and pull up my g-string and pants. Why do I feel extra naughty? Adding to that, even more nauseous. My chest tightens and I tap on it like a knock on a door.

This was a familiar feeling to me. I read somewhere that addiction is a bio psychosocial disorder characterized by repeated use or repetitive engagement in a behavior. And it can happen with anything you need too much. Or maybe want is the correct word here. Not sure but that's not the point I'm making.

As I was quick to figuring out my addictions, I stop taking them and I often did experience the worst withdrawal that can be described as near death experiences which included an overload of irritation and fatigue.

I went through a similar withdrawal for each of my addiction periods. The sleep hibernation itch I felt when I broke my sleeping habits into regular habits, then when I was swollen with over eating to fill in the gaps I couldn't find or dunk it in, the need to fill my mouth with something to munch on was taunting. Next, I launched into porn and sex which was whole chaos of bad decisions and choices which I rapidly stopped after seeing HIV patients and documentaries and it sacred the crap out of me.

Yet I prevailed after all this. It was always the same remedy with the same withdrawal, same treatment. It took a while but I did it. I became hot and lost those two hundred pounds, didn't need sex to fill up any lost void, only did it because it was fun. Now I take them in spurts and good amount of quantity.

But I'm still mentally exhausted. Mentally needing an outlet all the time. This is where it gets tricky. When I have won battles with my old enemies, I make new enemies.

And that new arch enemy is Z and boy, isn't he the shape of all sorts of challenges and is a huge laser sharp trap.

Now that I have found it's so thrilling to make him sweat like that by acting, well let's be honest, a walking talking cocktease. I snap on it like a gum stuck on the sole of your shoe.

Oh boy.

And I keep telling myself while I stumble out of the bathroom. I will get over this just as soon I get a right amount of dose. Yeah, self motivation. Not self-procrastinating. I will just need a shot of it and then I'm done. Methods of coping with my dysfunctional system.

I need some water. I storm towards the kitchen only to stop short when I hear a ruckus from outside.

At first I thought it was another yelling match between Z and his father. The one they seem to have during very family get-together. It was almost like a ritual. I ignored them because it wasn't my place to know but I did pity his mom and sister who went through it.

But when I notice a louder commotion, I move swiftly to the front door, seeing the whole-marathon-watching-group outside circling three very closely interacting people. When I snagged a view of Adrianna's burnt pissed face, my antenna twitched. Only one asshole can make her that mad like that.

Philip.

Before I could spew out and ponder over where the dirt bag got the balls to come here, I quickly slide to Adrianna, who looked almost grateful when she saw me. "Asshole is drunk and getting super violent." That's all she could say because she turned her attention to trio in the middle. My eyes bugled out when I did too.

Philip pushed Z and he had stepped back, balancing on his weight on his left foot, and threw his right fist out in a curved punch at Philip's temple. Turning ninety degrees to the side, Philip was fast even when he was drink and brought his right forearm up to counter the blow, forming a fist with his left, and threw it at Z's outstretched jaw. He fell to the right, into Archer and before he could block it, Phillip's foot came up from the concrete floor and kicked Z in the face.

Archer runs headlong into Philip with a brawl, taking him down, chest first. They swung fists at each other, hitting Archer's jaw and punching into Philip's chest.

Z already at his feet, pulls Philip to his feet, almost tearing his collar and I hear the slight rasp of the material ripping. His breaths were clenched and tight. But before he could lay it on him, Z's father, Terrance storms in from behind with several other relatives. They separate the two of them apart and words were exchanged and he escorted Philip out with a phone in his hand.

Archer and Z stood from their bent position, wincing. Adrianna rushes to them, carefully inspecting both.

I stand there because I don't know what to do. I have never seen Z hulk out like that. I was still zoned out when I hear Adrianna calling out my name.

I rush to them, my hands stubbornly remaining to my sides. I don't know what to do in this situation. Especially when it involves Z.

"Rose, check my brother out! I'll see to Archer."

The color is lost from my face. Oh god, why me? Why can't Gina or Wade do anything? I can't even finish my thought due to the fact Z was now rushing inside to the house.

Most of them pull away from him probably of all the fumes he was emitting. If it were a cartoon, wiggly curly red lines would steam from him. I don't blame my cousins, though. He does looks scary with all that cut on his lip and his face tinted with deep vermillion.

I still stand put, watching him walk away when Adrianna yells at me as she goes to the house with her pushing Archer inside, "Go and see to him! He is bloody stubborn and won't allow anyone to check on him. Go, Rose!"

Okay. Why is she piling this on me? His mother can take care of it- oh right, Hilda isn't here. She and the ladies have gone wine tasting at their club tonight. Only their husbands and us remained. Still, I don't need to go and attend to him. He hates me.

I scooter to Gina, who was walking back to the den and whisper, tapping on her shoulder. "Hey, check up on Z."

"Are you crazy? Did you see him? He is super mad and I don't want to be around him as his punching bag!"

"He is not so bad-Gina, come back here!" She races off with several of them following her tail. I catch Wade but he was busy talking to the police out near the gate along with Adrianna's father.

There is only one thing to do.

My heart is racing as I run up the stairs to his bedroom. I know he is up there, hold up inside. Probably lashing out or sitting pensively with that one leg rapidly shaking.

When I reach his bedroom door, my legs are on fire and I catch my breath. Without thinking, I zoom inside without knocking and my breath is again knocked away.

He was punching his bedroom wall like some lunatic and his t-shirt was shredded and bloodied. His jeans was riding deadly low as he swung with each movement.

I saw red like river in my gaze and I stride with purpose and grab a hold of his neck.

"Stop." I say. I shake a little but I get it together. I don't want him seeing me freaked out.

He does. He turns around and walks past me, shouldering me aside. This bastard!

That's when my anger spiked and I turn to face him, ready to rave out when I see him lock eyes with me. His gaze then falls down, stopping at my chest for long moments. His hands are fisted on his hips, his own chest rising up and down.

I stand still for the entire time as his eyes travel down and then back up and stops at my eye level.

"Get out, Rose. I don't need a nurse."

I keep quiet and turn away from him only to go to the bathroom and open the medical cabinet. I take some cotton balls and antiseptic bottle.

I go back into the room.

"Sit."

He squints his eyes at me. Daring me to back down. I don't, obviously even though my legs tingle and my heels almost making me trip.

He doesn't sit. Stubborn ass!

Well, I can be stubborn in my own way too. I walk across the black carpeted floor to his bed and sit at the edge of it. I tap my foot on the space at the floor in front of me.

Again, he doesn't move. He simply watches me. So I tap again. Patiently.

With a over bearing annoyed sigh, he turns his back to me and I almost thought he would walk away but he plops down on the floor in front of me.

"I need to see your face."

He doesn't say anything. I huff out a breath. God, he is such a kid! I dab some cotton with the antiseptic and tug his collar towards me so that he could turn his face.

I cringe when I see the blood. I could almost taste it. The metallic smell hit my nose and I ignore it and begin to dab it on his wound. A small cut on his lip and his cheek was slightly swollen.

His knuckles were brazen but it wasn't bloodied so thank god.

As I cleaned the wound, I try to not let his minty cool breath hit my fingers affect me. Interestingly, my mind is blank. Which is good for me. I don't need to go overthinking this.

When the cut looks cleaner and it had stopped bleeding. I stand up and go to his mini refrigerator and take out two ice solid cans of beer. I return and plop myself back on the edge of his bed. "Place this on your cheek."

He does what I tell him. Progress. With that being done, I lift the backside of the tab and the fizz bubbles through the pierced opening and I slant my head back and take a long sip.

"I thought that was for me."

"You are holding yours." I say, after swallowing.

"Aren't you a sweet nurse?" He mocks at me and I notice how he hadn't move from his position. His back was still faced towards me as he talks. "Why are you here? Surely not to take care of my injuries. What? You came here to gloat?"

"Gloat about what?"

"How an uncivilized hooligan I am."

"Well, I can gloat about that from anywhere perfectly." I take another cooling sip and smirk.

He still doesn't look back at me which is actually annoying the fuck out of me. I was about to make another comment when he twists to his side and his hand automatically touches his back shoulder blade. I could see his body cringe at some pain which must be rooted from his back.

Thankfully, my mind is still blank. I did the unthinkable. Keeping the can aside, I spread my legs far enough and my hands reach out and grab his shoulders, yanking him back in between my legs.

"What are-"

I shush him because I really don't want to hear him talk me down. I really don't want me to talk me down. It's done. It's out there. I simply want to feel his muscles bunch under my palm as I massage him.

I work his tensed shoulders and neck. I knead and press in short circular strokes to enhance a deeper circulation. When I hear that masculine groan leave his lips, I smile like a vixen.

I move my hands from left to right and then up and down through his t-shirt. I was so close to telling him to strip off that devastated t-shirt but that would take it too far.

I make percussive strokes in repeated contacts with my cupped hands and I feel him slowly scooch back till my legs have encompassed his broad shoulders and my thighs are so widely spread I didn't realize the back of his head was right near my core.

Suddenly, my mind began to unlock and delicious thoughts began to make their way into the frontal lobe. My beautiful enemy is right in front of me with all his shields down.

I forgot one important step in my whole addiction process. Whenever I left behind an addictive pet and captured a new one. When I did have it in my captive, I forgot what a monster I become.