Page 2 of Make Me Bleed

“Mhm, I’m sure you do. Let’s go.” And without giving me a choice, he reaches down and hoists me up with both arms under my arm pits. I grunt and groan as Gabe manhandles me. But… it’s also kinda hot.

“You’re kinda hot,” I tell him as I squint up at him, blinking through the streetlamp light glaring down at me.

He smiles, but it’s tight. “Yes, Peris, I know.”

I snort loudly. “Cocky.”

“Again, I know.” His eyes roll into the back of his head. Abel’s eyes used to do that when he’d come, and that was really hot…

I shake my head, needing thatgone,and then, I get really dizzy and… “Why are we friends again?” I mutter as I sway on my feet.

“Because no one else would put up with your shit.”

“True. Imma terrible person,” I tell him truthfully.

It’s quiet as we walk. The street sounds busy as cars drive by and Gabe and I shuffle our way down the sidewalk until we reachhis car. I groan in relief when I slide into his seat, head lulling against the headrest like it’s my own personal pillow.

“Do not pass out in my car, Peris. I cannot carry you again.”

Again?I think I ask, but he doesn’t answer, so I leave it be as he closes the door in my face after buckling me in. I remember buckling my runt in. The way the belt would line up perfectly with his studded belt, dull gray against silver, such a sharp contrast… just like him.

The thought makes me suck in a sharp breath, and I fucking choke on it.

“Peris…Peris!”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

No.“Yep,” I slur, pressing my face against the cool glass, needing something, anything, to pull me away from the memories.

Even drunk, I can’t escape him.

“You’re not,” Gabe mutters, and I chuckle. “What?” he snaps.

“I know, Gabe,” I slur.

“You know what?”

“That m’not okay.”

“I’m fucking worried about you, Peris.” His fingers tighten on the wheel, similar to the way mine would when Abel would piss me off…

“That makes one of us.”

“Shut the fuck up; it’s not funny. If you keep going this way, you’re going to kill yourself or end up dead in a ditch somewhere.”

I don’t mean to laugh. Really, I don’t. But fuck. It starts off as a low chuckle, but it only gets louder as it starts to bubble in my chest.

“You’re laughing…” Gabe mutters to himself, shaking his head as he pulls up to a red light. He shakes his head, glancing over at me. “He’s fucking laughing.”

My laugh morphs into something darker, louder, and more high-pitched. Something resembling a maniacal cackle—fitting for how inebriated I am. Gabe’s eyes keep flashing at me as he drives onward, and I can tell he’s worried, but I can’t stop. Even as my chest burns with the force of it and the lack of oxygen, needing more, needing less. Needingsomething else.

Him…

But I can’t have him.

Because he left me.