Page 3 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)
CLOVER
T he ceiling is spinning, round and round and round, casting shadows across the room. So many shadows. So much spinning…
I feel like I’m about to fly away.
Or fade away.
It might be better if I did.
I blink, my vision coming back into focus, and realize the room isn’t spinning; the ceiling fan above me is. Light is trickling through a vent in the upper section of the wall, the air reeks of dust and something rotting, and feels heavy and dirty.
I feel dirty.
Gross.
Like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.
Like my veins are filled with dirt.
I’m so confused.
“Where the hell am I?” I croak, only half the syllables leaving my dry lips.
I’ve been in this position before, where I woke up from a night with my dark thoughts and a pillow of drugs and can’t remember what the fuck happened.
However, I can usually backtrack to the first snort or injection.
Right now, my brain is as vacant as this room that consists of nothing but walls, a fan, and a concrete floor, which I’m lying on.
My bones and muscles gripe in protest as I roll over to push up, but putting any sort of pressure on my arms is useless, and I buckle to the floor.
I’m on my stomach now, and the concrete is cold against my overly warm cheek.
My skin is burning up, and my stomach is clenching.
A puddle of puke is on the floor a few feet away from me.
I believe it is the culprit of the pungent smell.
I let out another moan. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here? Where is here even? And how did I get here?
Did I get so high that I stumbled into some random person’s basement and passed out? This doesn’t feel like a basement, though, not with sunlight coming through the vent.
I need to get out of here.
I muster a few breaths, then will my arms to work as I wiggle them underneath me and push up. I manage to sit upright and have started working on getting my feet underneath me when the door to the room swings open.
The severity of my situation crashes into me before whoever it is even walks in. Because whatever this is, if it is something bad, my limbs are way too heavy, and my mind is too thick with cotton for me to be able to protect myself.
When I see the person entering, my mind floats between puzzlement and worry.
“Jason,” I croak at the sight of the guy I’m dating.
Although dating isn’t really what this is. I only got close to him to figure out what happened to Zoey. But part of me is drawn to him and his darkness, and it’s just another thing I can add to my self-loathing list.
His steps are calculated as he approaches me. “Shh…” He crouches down beside me and pets my head, like a creepy motherfucker. “It’s almost over, and then you can go home.” Another stroke of his hand.
His touch feels like maggots crawling over my skin, trying to eat me in my half-dead state.
“Am I dying…” I manage to croak out.
He traces a path along my hairline. “Do you want to die?”
The answer to that is complicated; it’s like asking me whether or not I want another hit.
I always do but know I shouldn’t. Part of me wants to die, for this to go away—for all of it to go away—my entire pathetic existence.
But in the pit of my chest, where my heart struggles to breathe, it whispers for me to fight—live.
It’s pure instinct, my lungs thriving refusal to allow myself to fade into the dark oblivion of the unknown.
“No,” I whisper. “Please… I want to live.”
He cups my chin and angles my head toward him, forcing me to move like a doll. “Then you’ll live, but you’ll also have to comply.
I’m not sure if I believe him.
In fact, I think he might be lying.
I smell it in the air all around me.
The bitter stench of death.
It’s all I can breathe in, feel, think about. It’s like poison in my veins.
I wish I’d never come here. It’s the last thought I have before I feel Jason’s fingers wrap tightly around my arm.
“Shh…” he whispers. “It’ll be over soon.”
I whimper as a needle pierces my skin. For a moment, I bask in the pain because it’s real, and real is something.
But then darkness claws through my mind, trying to dig its way out from my insides and consume me. I could fight it, but instead I close my eyes and allow it to devour me.