Jaxx’s Point Of View

The whiskey glass was heavy in my hand. Heavier than it should have been. Or maybe it wasn’t the glass at all… it was me. My chest. My damn heart. Beating too fast, like it was trying to climb its way out of my ribs.

The suite was dark except for the city lights bleeding through the wide windows. Neon bleeding against the polished floor, pulsing in the silence. I’d told myself I wanted quiet tonight. No noise. No company. No women. Just the bottle. Just the ...