I reach as far inside myself as I possibly can, clawing and ripping for that demon inside me to take control.
Please. Please. You’ve numbed me so much…please numb me for this.
But the bastard doesn’t do anything, for the drugs have pulled him under, too. Henrik’s hand wraps around my throat, choking. It’s okay, because I can’t breathe anyway. I’m not someone who ever believed in a god…but if there is one, please do something. A heart attack, stroke, aneurism,something.
If there is a fucking god, help me.
The television laughter filters faintly through the wall again, fucking absurd and twisted against the brutal reality of this room. I focus on that sound. On anything outside my body. The only mercy is that I remain laying on my back the entire time. He doesn't bother moving me much. My mind screams, but my limbs do nothing. The last clear thought that enters my mind is—
I want to die.
The night air hits my face, my feet dragging as I’m being carried. My arms are hooked over shoulders, my weight sagging between two solid bodies. Aiden smells like cigarette smoke and disgusting cologne. Erik’s grip digs into my ribs every time I stumble, which is constant, because my legs won’t lock properly.
“Jesus,” someone mutters.
I try to lift my head, but it feels like it’s filled with sand. My mouth tastes really bad, like sweet, sour, and chemical. I know this isn’t just alcohol. I know that with a terrifying, crystal fucking clarity.
A door opens, and warmth envelops me. Then movement again, shuffling, and strained breaths. My shoes scrape against a wooden floor. I try to speak...but nothing comes out. And then they let go. The couch catches me, but not before my shoulder hits hard enough to hurt. I don’t have the coordination to bracemyself. My arm slides uselessly off the cushion. The ceiling swims above me, and the sound of footsteps reaches me.
“What happened?”Adriana asks sleepily, but there's fear in her voice.
“He had too much,” Aiden answers flatly.
Too much.
I want to laugh. It would come out broken if I could. The front door opens again, cold air rushing in briefly before it shuts.
“Jude?” Her hands are on my face. They’re so warm and soft.
My head rolls toward her without meaning to. My eyes are open, I think. But I can’t focus them. Her face is blurry, her hair messy like she was sleeping.
“Jude, wake up.”
There’s a sharp sting across my cheek. The sound registers before the pain does. My head shifts with the impact, but my body doesn’t react. It doesn’t do anything. It’s like I’m trapped inside it, pounding against glass no one else can see.
Another slap.
I want to grab her wrist and tell her I’m aware of her, but my arm doesn’t move. Panic starts to creep in, suffocatingly slow. A tightening in my chest that won’t expand properly.
She’s saying my name again...but her voice is shaking now. She’s worried about me.
I force everything I have into my fingers, finally making them twitch. It’s small, but it’s all I can manage. “Don’t,” I manage, barely audible. I don’t even know if it’s clear. “’M fine.”
I’m not fine.
Everything about my body feels so fuckingwrong. Fragments flicker through my head.
Blue eyes. The clink of a belt. Television laughter bleeding through a wall. Hands, lips, bodyweight on top of me. Lips that I never agreed to kiss.
I squeeze my eyes shut hard enough to hurt.
No.
Fuck. Not now.
Adriana’s hands slide down to my shoulders. She’s shaking me. “What did they give you?”
I don’t know.