“Yup,” I say, as I take the next one and take a breath before downing it.
Finally, I’m feeling the buzz, the lightheadedness, the complete absence of emotions that’ve been threatening to swallow me whole.
Bliss.
Pure bliss.
And at this point, I don’t even care what I do, or where I am.
As long as I can stay right here, in my disastrous mess with that country music blasting in the background to wish all my sorrows away.
“Lemme guess, you failed,” the man says.
I snort. “Are you a psychic?”
“No … just someone who’s very, very interested,” he says, putting down his drink. “Tell you what, if you meet me out front, near the abandoned playground, I might be willing to help you out.”
I pause, feeling woozy all of a sudden, but I still feel like I have to listen.
“For a price.”
Of course, it’s always for a price.
“No thanks,” I say. “I’ve had enough of shady deals.”
I hop off the stool and try to make sense of my environment, but the whole place is beginning to spin around, and I don’t like it one bit. Maybe I drank too much, but goddamn, did it feel good to just let go for once.
My footsteps are wobbly as I make my way out of the grimy bar and head back out to the streets, but in the blurry mess, I can’t even find my damn car, and when I fumble for my keys, they drop from my pocket.
“Shit.”
I bend over to pick them up, when suddenly someone’s hands wrap around my waist.
“Hey!” I scream.
“Let’s go, chick, you’re in no condition to drive. Lemme take you.”
“Get your hands off me,” I shout, pushing the guy away.
His breath smells like alcohol, like the same liquor I smelled in that bar, and when I glance over my shoulder, I can clearly make out the features of the man who was just sitting beside me.
“C’mon, darling, I won’t hurt you. I’ll take you home. Just tell me where you live.”
“Over my dead body,” I retort, trying to maintain balance, while he drags me along.
Another car drives up toward us, stopping near the side of the road, and my heart rate shoots up when several men step out.
“I have some friends who’d like to talk to you, though,” the man says.
He whisks me to the side of the building, a dead-end filled with trash bins and rats scattering about, and all the hair on the back of my neck rises.
I try to turn, but he blocks my way, and I can’t move past because my strength is waning fast from the poison I chugged that’s meddling with my brain.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
“Come now, don’t be shy, we just want to have a chat,” another guy says as he walks closer.
I step backward, bumping into a trash bin, and I nearly fall from the loss of balance.
