Page 23

As the night rolls on, tequila starts to war with the molly, competing against who can fuck me up more. My body is humming with a need so thirsty the great lakes wouldn’t be able to quench it, but I try to ignore it forgetting why every couple minutes or so.

Than is in the middle of acting out his latest conquest which has him thrusting his hips, humping the arm on his chair.

I’m so distracted by this festering desire to be inside of Ash that I don’t even realize I’m laughing right along with the others.

It’s not that I would stop myself, but I haven’t truly laughed like this in a long time.

I feel little sparks sizzling and popping inside of my brain, like pop rocks or sparklers on the Fourth of July.

Each one has happiness bursting and spreading its warmth.

There’s a sound so beautiful ringing in my ears and as I turn, I find Ash laughing just as I am. Her lips stretched across her glowing face, revealing a mouth destined to be mine. She’s clutching her chest as if it aches from joy, then slaps her palm against my knee.

Ash catches me staring, her eyes locking on mine, and I have this overwhelming urge to kiss her.

To feel her pink lips pressed against mine.

To feel her touch against my skin. I want her, badly and by the way her hands have been rubbing her thighs all night, the way she eats me alive with her devious gaze, I’d say she wants me too.

“Khaos.” My name slips from her lips like a sirens call. I nearly fall into her, desperate to drown in the little blonde next to me. “Truth or dare?”

I barely register her words until her dark eyebrows quirk as if she’s reading my thoughts. Jesus, what I would do to show her what’s running through my imagination right now.

“Truth.” I’m too afraid of Ash’s dares.

“Tell me about your first time.”

My blood turns to ice, frozen in place, refusing to give life to my heart anymore. That useless thing inside my chest aches painfully, stabbing like little steak knives over and over again. My skin starts to prickle, and I can feel each droplet of sweat forming along my hairline.

Ash’s shriek yanks me from this paralysis as she jumps back on the couch, knocking into Hypnos.

Apparently, my blood isn’t frozen, it just feels that way.

A crimson pool spreads across the palm of my hand, glass shattered all across the floor.

I don’t feel anything other than my heart thudding angrily in my chest as if it got the memo that it’s no longer being deprived.

Without a word or another look at Ash, my feet drag me towards the ensuite in my bedroom. My vision turns red as I wrap a hotel towel around the wound, applying pressure as I pace the little space.

“No! I can’t! I can’t!” I’m screaming into the night, but it’s useless .

Only the trees that loom over me like deadly shadows are listening. Their response given with a sway of their branches, their leaves bustling together.

I didn’t think I could physically cry anymore, but that doesn’t seem true as tears streak my dirty face.

I’m so dizzy with hunger, my vision blurs, and I'm trapped. My eyes deceive me frequently, shadows moving from tree to tree beyond. They're watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I know it’s the drugs they gave me, but honestly it feels like the truth.

The devil has sent his demons to taunt me, to play with my sanity.

They’re just as real as the red cloaks that surround me while I kneel here in the middle of a pentagram drawn in dirt.

I’m desperate to avoid what’s in front of me, to succumb to this high so I can leave this nightmare, but God doesn’t grant me that wish and neither does the devil.

There's so much blood. It just pools in the center, filling up until it slides down in fast rivulets. It glistens against the torches, lit at each point of the pentagram, three cloaks between each one. I bring my hands up to inspect them as if they’re the reason for all that’s bad in this world.

They're covered, sticky with sin, traitors of my will. They shake before my eyes, either that or my vision is officially going. I’d prefer the latter, so I don’t have to see what I've done or what I’m about to do.

“Go on, boy.” His voice is like claws piercing the skin along my neck only to drag themselves down, leaving an excruciating track of open wounds.

If I don’t, I know my fate, and I’m just not sure I'm ready to die yet.

“FUCK!” My scream echoes against the tiles in the bathroom.

The towel around my hand drops as I slam it into the mirror, desperate to punch the man who stares back at me. The glass shakes, but it doesn’t quell the nightmare festering inside of me. Before I get the chance to actually break it, there’s a small tug on my arm.

I didn’t even notice Ash’s reflection, too focused on destroying my own. The sight of her frightened eyes, but calm demeanor forces my heart rate to slow. She looks at me with confusion and worry, unshed tears glittering back at me.

Without a word, she guides me over to the sink, both of us ignoring the blood smeared across the glass. I watch in a daze as she turns the faucet on, checking the temperature before forcing my hand under the running water. It stings, but nothing I haven’t endured before.

This, right here, is everything I’ve ever wanted.

I let Ash bandage my wounds, inside and out, then drag me into the dark room.

It’s nearly pitch black as we feel for the wall near the bed.

I slide down against it and she follows, slumping next to me.

I’d much rather sit here in the dark than face myself in the light.

“Can we talk about it?” She asks, her voice soft.

“No.” I can’t.

“I’m sorry if I said something that triggered you. I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t. Please forget it.” I groan, sliding my palms down my face in embarrassment.

It’s been a while since I’ve had an episode. They usually only come in my sleep, but tonight has conjured the perfect storm. A huge reason why I hate drugs and with Ash’s words, my bloody hand, it was inevitable.

“Okay.” She says in a hushed voice.

We sit there for a couple minutes in silence; the only sound is our breathing. My head is spinning, trying to wind down from the tornado that hit hard and fast.

“I want to make you feel better.” She whispers, finally speaking.

Now my heart races for a completely different reason.

“Then do it.” I murmur.

I can hear her shuffle beside me, her silhouette moving like a graceful dancer as she slides onto my lap. She straddles me, her thighs on either side of mine, her arms wrapping around my neck.

“Does this help?” She asks, her voice sultry and filled with hesitancy.

She’s nervous and if that doesn’t excite the shit out of me, I don’t know what would. Warmth grows between us, emanating from between her legs. My fingers glide up along the backs of her thighs, my fingertips resting at the hem of her panties underneath her dress.

I nod, humming my approval.

“Untie my mask.” I tell her, knowing that it’s too dark for her to get a good look.

She does with shaky fingers as if I’ve asked her to touch my dick. The fabric falls beside us, and she brings them down to caress my face. It’s like the softest silk gliding across my skin. She runs a trail down my nose and across my lips as if feeling every feature on my face could help her see.

“What else?” She breathes and I inhale the scent of tequila and bad decisions.

“Kiss me.”