Free Never to Hope by Aimie Grey Page A

could bring me solace at that particular moment. However, just like everything else in my life, the sandman decided to give me a big fuck you as well. After tossing and turning for about half an hour, I was nearing the brink of insanity. I couldn’t lie there any longer, so I put on a pair of yoga pants, an extra-large T-shirt, and my running shoes before heading out into the night.
    The waning moon was nothing more than a sliver¸ but I didn’t care that I could barely see. I didn’t even care that the air was cold and damp. I needed something and was going to get it regardless of the fact that it was only a couple of hours until sunrise. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I cut through the park to get to Main Street, which was lined with restaurants, gas stations, and liquor stores—exactly what I was looking for.
    An electronic chime sounded when I opened the door, which seemed to wake up the beefy, tatted-up guy behind the counter. If only sleep had come that easy for me. “Help you find something?” he grumbled.
    “Can’t sleep. Any recommendations?”
    “Sounds like a job for whiskey. Try the Heaven Hill bourbon; back of aisle three. That should do the trick.” Trusting his expertise, I took the short walk to the back of the cramped space, which only had four aisles total. Bottle in hand, I returned to the register and handed him my license before he had a chance to ask. “I normally don’t give a shit,” he said as he looked at my identification, “but you look like hell. You shouldn’t be out alone in the middle of the night.”
    “I’ll be all right, I’m a big girl.”
    “If you say so, but do me a favor.” He pointed over his left shoulder. Look straight into the security camera so the cops have a clear shot of your face for the news when you go missing.”
    “Ha fucking ha.” Like anyone would even notice if I was missing. “Are you going to ring me up, or what?” This guy made me wish I lived somewhere like New York City. From what I’d seen on TV, most people there wouldn’t bother with the lecture.
    He scanned the barcode and returned my license. As I slid my debit card through the machine, he wrapped the bottle in a stereotypical plain brown paper bag. “Be careful, okay? I’ll feel bad if I turn on the news tomorrow and see them pulling your body out of a pond.”
    “Thanks,” I said and then took my purchase and left.
    After being in the warm store for a few minutes, it seemed much colder outside than it had before I went in. I spotted steam coming from a grate in the sidewalk outside of a nearby building and went to stand over it for a minute. While enjoying the warmth, I opened my bottle and, like a hobo, wrapped the paper bag around its neck.
    After just a few swigs, I was beginning to relax. Between the bourbon warming me from the inside and the steam coming from beneath my feet, I finally felt a little sleepy. With a firm grip on my bottle, I headed back home. The drinking continued as I slowly walked through the park. Before I was even halfway through, I was so tired that I had to sit down. After stumbling around a bit, I found a place that seemed safe enough to rest. I decided to lie down and close my eyes for a few minutes. Just long enough to get enough energy to continue my trek home.
    *
    It was cold. Reaching for my blanket, I ended up with a handful of damp grass instead. My eyes popped open and found the trunk of a tree barely three inches from my face. Surprised, I fell onto my back. Taking in my surroundings, I realized I was under our tree. “Fucking moron,” I chided myself. It had never been our tree . It had all been a part of Carter’s elaborate rouse to get in my pants.
    I remembered walking through the park and stopping somewhere to rest, but I didn’t know if I had been there five minutes or five hours. Looking up through the trees, I could tell the sun was up; I just couldn’t tell how high because of the solid wall of storm clouds.
    My stomach churned a