On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

Chapter 23

“Bugs, cockroaches…”

I was staring at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. He pointed at the walls and ceiling

like there was something really there, crawling up and down. I swallowed hard. He was hallucinating. I

didn’t know how to act, so I stepped inside and switched off the water.

“Dexter, hun, come on let’s get you out of here,” I finally said and touched him. His wet skin was

burning. I needed to stay calm, but deep down I was freaking out, wondering if he had finally lost it.

Eventually he listened to me and stepped out of the shower, shaking wildly. He kept mumbling that

there were insects everywhere, on his legs and arms, and he tried to flick them off. I closed the shower

doors and put the towel around him. In the bedroom I realised that it was shortly after five in the

morning. Dexter didn’t have to be at work until eight. This was getting stranger with every passing

second.

It took a few minutes for him to stop talking. I knew that I had some Valium in my apartment, so I told

him to go to his apartment and get dressed and went to fetch it.

I began throwing stuff around on the floor, searching through my bag frantically. It took me ten minutes

to finally find it. When I barged into his apartment, he was already in his suit.

“What are you doing?” I asked, bewildered.

He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his tie in the mirror. The pupils in his eyes were still dilated, but

he looked more like himself. “Getting ready, what does it look like?” he snapped.

“Dexter… you can’t, we have to go to the hospital,” I stuttered, pushing him down on the bed.

Was it possible that he was pretending the incident in the shower didn’t happen? He seemed annoyed.

“I’m fine, Sasha; I freaked out. Don’t stress. I thought that I was seeing things,” he said calmly.

I wasn’t buying this. “No, Dex. You were convinced that there were bugs everywhere. You can’t go to

work; you need to see a doctor. This isn’t normal,” I insisted.

He shoved me away and stormed back to the living room. “Don’t be fucking stupid. I’m going to the

office.”

“Dexter, it’s five a.m.,” I shouted.

He glanced at his watch, then at me again. “Bullshit, you fiddled with the time,” he growled.

I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. There was something very wrong with

him, with this whole situation. He sounded like he thought it was me that was acting crazy. I needed to

call his mother or someone from the family.

“No, Dex, I haven’t. The noise from the bathroom woke me up and you were inside—”

“Sasha, I don’t have time for this bullshit. I need to go. Just lock the door behind you. I’m fucking fine,”

he snapped and stormed out of the apartment.

I couldn’t catch my breath. My panic was rising. Now I was going to go through a meltdown because of

him. I thought that he would realise that it was only just after five a.m. and come back. He didn’t, so

after an hour I started looking through his drawers. All his numbers were listed on his landline handset.

I found the contact that said Mum and exhaled with relief. I didn’t want to call her just yet, but I was on

the verge of losing my sanity, so I saved it to my mobile just in case.

I locked the door and went back to my own apartment. At six fifteen I had a phone call from the agency

asking me to do a day shift instead of night. I agreed, not even knowing why.

I knew Dexter was very moody—it was part of his bad-boy appeal—but I’ve never seen him like that,

almost psychotic. It was the first time and I didn’t want to pretend that it hadn’t happened. I went to

work an hour later, knowing that this was very serious. I was worried—really, really worried.

Dexter

“Sally, get me another coffee,” I barked at my secretary. I was pissed off with the world and convinced

that Sasha was playing games with me. She must have changed the time on my iPhone and the clock

in the kitchen, but when I got to the office, no one was there. Something clicked then. But I wasn’t

crazy; I had just lost track of time.

“Here you go, Mr. Tyndall,” she said, placing a fresh cup on my desk.

I managed to get the number for pest control. There were bugs in her bathroom; how could she not see

them?

The morning meeting didn’t go too well either. Robert and the others were staring at me, bewildered, as

I sped through my presentation. It was only nine fifteen when I finished, and it seemed that they hadn’t

been keeping up with me.

“Dex, buddy, are you sure that you’re all right?” Robert asked straight afterwards.

“I’m great, why?”

“You were going too fast; the clients won’t be able to follow you. Maybe you should slow down.”

“It was slow, Rob,” I muttered.

He laughed and patted me on the back. “No it wasn’t, mate. You were going like two hundred words

per minute. Just take your time next time.”

This guy had no idea what he was talking about. My thoughts were racing frenetically when I went into

my office. I was taking the pills that the neurologist had prescribed, but they didn’t seem to have any

effect on me anymore. I needed some weed, but I still had a whole day to get through. Was Sasha

working tonight?

I stayed in and asked Sally to fetch me lunch. By the time the day was over I had completed twenty

reports, responded to over a hundred e-mails, and planned three new projects. I deserved a reward, so

on the way home I went shopping. I had this urge to spend shitloads of money today. I went into the

Armani store and saw a plain blue t-shirt, so I bought the same one in every colour that was available.

Then I bought twenty new ties and a couple of expensive watches.

Sasha wasn’t at home when I got back, so I sat down and rolled up a joint. I didn’t want to move, but I

was horny. Maybe it was time to call someone else—a new girl—but no, Sasha wouldn’t like that.

I didn’t know what time it was, but I stayed up until three o’clock in the morning. Sasha came back

around eight am. She’d had a phone call in the morning to do a day shift in the hospital.

“Dexter, we need to talk about this morning. You thought that you were seeing things,” she said softly,

starting in again. This woman was relentless.

“There is nothing wrong with me Barbie. I’m good, so stop worrying about me. Let’s fuck. I really want

to fuck right now,” I told her.

“I’m knackered. And sex isn’t a solution for everything.”

We fought then, so I told her to get lost. It was the same thing all over again, but I didn’t want to listen

to her banging on about my health. I had never felt better in my life and I was filled with endless energy.

I didn’t understand why she needed so much sleep.

In the evening there was a knock on my door. She was dressed in her robe and it looked like she had

just woken up.

“Missed me already?” I asked, leaning out of the door.

“No, I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine and ready to fuck you again,” I said and wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her up.

“Dexter, if you want to keep me happy, then let me take you to the hospital. You need to see a

specialist.”

I put her down and dragged my hand over my head. “I’m done talking about this, Sasha. For fuck’s

sake, why can’t you let it go? We have been through this already!”

“Because you are acting strange, seeing things, like you have psychosis, Dexter. Using sex as a

distraction—”

“Shut up, just shut up and leave me alone! Come back when you get your shit together and want to

have sex!” I shouted at her, cutting her off. Then I slammed the door in her face. I heard her door close

moments later. That night I stayed up again, feeling angry and frustrated. She didn’t get it that I had

lived with this shit since I could remember. No one had ever found anything wrong with me and I felt

great right now, so what was the problem?

I went to bed for an hour or two. At three in the morning I was up again working, drafting e-mails and

creating exciting new projects to work on. I felt invincible, accomplishing all this work by five and then

driving to the office at seven

Wednesday and Thursday went flying by and I hadn’t heard from Sasha at all. I was bloody raging, but

I wasn’t planning to knock on her door. Instead of sitting in the apartment and waiting for her, I spent

my evenings shopping. I bought new suits, new shoes and splashed some cash on a new car. It was

an impulse; I drove past the Range Rover showroom and decided to pop in. I wasn’t worried; money

wasn’t an issue.

On Friday afternoon I was working from the office downstairs in the complex, going over some

paperwork. I had just picked up the phone and dialled a number to speak to Robert when I heard a

buzzing, scratching sound in the receiver.

My heart began to pound faster and I knew that something was very wrong. Someone was listening in

to my private conversations. I stared at the phone for some time, remembering the story that Joey had

told me. He said that the government could bug the phones to spy on people. Now everything made

sense; now I knew why I was losing the bids for properties. There was a possibility that my phones

were bugged.

I ran my hand through my hair and paced around the office, thinking, trying to calm the racing thoughts.

I deleted the files I was working on and shot back upstairs to Sasha’s apartment.

She had made me give her back the key to her terrace doors, so I started banging on her door. It took a

while, but finally she opened up.

“What the hell, Dexter? I was sleeping. I had an extra shift,” she complained.

“All my phones in the office are bugged,” I said.

“Dexter, what are you talking about?” she asked, yawning. Fuck, she wasn’t getting it. Everyone was

slow, talking slow, acting slow. I was the only one that understood what was really going on.

“Someone has planted bugs in all my phones; probably in the entire complex. We are being spied on,

Sasha. That’s what’s fucking going on.”

Sasha

I was staring at him with confusion. Was he going through another episode? I had tried to make him go

to the hospital during the week, telling him that he needed help, but he acted like he didn’t have a

problem.

“All right, okay, Dexter. I won’t use the phone. Why don’t we go to your apartment and check it out?” I

said.

“Fuck, finally someone believes that this shit is real,” he growled. I shut the door and we strolled back

to his place. We hadn’t seen each other properly since Monday morning after the episode with the bugs

in the shower. We had fought outside in the corridor when I insisted that he needed to see someone—a

specialist. I couldn’t let him distract me with sex, so I kept my distance. He was very stubborn and he

slammed the door in my face. I wanted to get him diagnosed so he would get the help he needed and

we could move forward, but I wasn’t getting anywhere.

One of the paediatric wards of a neighbouring hospital had closed down, so more children were being

admitted to the hospital I worked in, and the agency was on at me to do more shifts. I’d had a really

difficult night and Dexter woke me up. I needed a few extra hours of sleep.

We went into his living room and I stopped abruptly. There were bags and bags of shopping all over the

floor. New designer stuff spilling out of bags. A lot of t-shirts that were exactly the same style, but in

several different shades, new suits, watches and ties. His table was covered with empty bottles of

whisky and dirty plates and cups. I was trying to get my head around this, knowing that I needed to get

him help.

Dexter handed me a phone. “Listen to that buzzing sound, Sasha. Everything is just—”

He started talking so fast that I couldn’t follow him. Half the time his speech was slurred and

fragmented. Something in my head began to click. Methadone—the neurologist had prescribed him

methadone. I had seen it briefly when we were in the hotel and I remembered reading somewhere that

the drug worked as a mood enhancer. There was a possibility that the pills were causing

his hallucinations.

Dexter was still talking, pacing around and pointing at his phone. I couldn’t take this any longer. I had to

get him to the hospital. The past few days proved that he was getting more and more psychotic.

“Dexter, I’m really concerned about you. Please let me take you to an ER to see what’s wrong.”

He stopped talking then and looked at me, his eyes moving from the phone to me. “You know that I

fucking hate hospitals, but you look worried, so I’ll go.”

I was shocked that he said that, but more with the fact that he wasn’t fighting with me anymore. I had

been expecting a full-blown argument. He was chaotic, talking without much sense at all, but I was

happy that he finally he agreed.

“Okay, hold on. I’ll get changed quickly.”

I didn’t want to leave him, but I had to use the phone to call his mother. My heart was pounding in my

chest and my hands were shaking when I dialled her number. It was time to cut to the chase and tell his

family what had been going on.

Dexter

She insisted on driving because apparently, I wasn’t capable. What the fuck? I argued with her about

this outside, but she didn’t budge. The phones were bugged, I knew it, but I couldn’t deal with that

because all of a sudden I had all different thought streams rushing through my head. My eyes and ears

were too sensitive. The world behind the window was blurry and I felt dizzy, but I kept talking. Sasha

was nodding, agreeing with me as the words poured out of me for some time.

We found the car park and then got to the reception area, which was filled with other sick-looking

people. Sasha asked me to wait on a bench while she went to speak with the nurse.

People were staring at me, so I grabbed my head and pulled it down, not wanting to look at anyone. I

needed to have sex or start smoking a joint. It was like someone had poured a stack of ideas and

thoughts into my head and then began adding more and more to it. My head felt heavy, my body was

burning, my pulse pounded and I felt like I was slowly suffocating.

Sasha came back. “We have to wait,” she said. She didn’t ask me how I was or anything. When I

looked at her, she smiled and took my hand. I exhaled with relief, feeling safe. In that moment I realised

that I never wanted her to leave me ever again. Her comforting hand sent a tremor of warmth all over

me, slowing down my heart rate. I felt happy, euphoric that I finally had someone who gave a fuck.

Then an image of my father swaying from side to side appeared in front of my eyes. I remembered the

arguments, the late-night drinking, and Mum’s tears. That euphoric feeling disappeared like a flash of

lightning and then I came to the realisation that I was in love with Sasha. I absolutely fucking loved her,

and suddenly that thought petrified me. Panic cooled my veins, freezing cells in my body, thrusting me

into oblivion. A bitter ball of fear coursed down my spine. This wasn’t happening to me; I couldn’t love

her.

I pulled my hand away and exhaled. “You know you were a good fuck, Barbie. Great,” I began.

She laughed, not getting what I was trying to say. “Right now, Dexter, really?”

“It was always just sex for me, nothing else. You were a quick, pathetic fuck. I think I have to tell you

the truth: I always knew that you were easy,” I said leaning over and whispering the last word into her

ear. It was time to end this bullshit, time to stop it.

She paled and pulled away from me. “Dexter, you don’t mean that. We both know that it wasn’t just

sex; we spent a lot of time with each other. ”

“You passed the time, but I guess that I’m done with fucking you. We are done and I don’t care about

your shitty past. It was a mistake and I should have stuck to my rules. I never fuck blondes, especially

not curvy, whiny blondes.”

She got up then, probably upset about what I said. I didn’t want to end up like my father, dead and

forgotten. Her wide eyes filled with tears, but I only laughed and continued to laugh. The love for her

was ripping me apart, tearing my insides. I couldn’t take it.

Suddenly I spotted my mother approaching us. “Dexter, hun, are you all right?”

“Good, you're here. I'm leaving. This man really needs your help,” Sasha said to my mother and then

turned around and walked away.

“Who was that, Dexter?” Mum asked.

“No one, Mum. Absolutely fucking no one.” NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.