“What have you done?”
“He agreed to it.” The realisation that this is the fucking jab he stuck in me before I left the room last night hits hard. “He shouldn’t have taken the pills.”
My head shifts around, her eyes looking at mine again. “You took more? Asshole.”
I’d chuckle if these fucking pain wasn’t so bad I’m thinking about passing out.
I squirm, retch, and consider gauging out my wrist again in the hope that it’ll stop the endless fucking pain. “Did you warn him?”
“No.”
“What a dick move. You’re both assholes.” She shuffles and clamps harder on my head, as I continue to move and groan. “Can you reverse whatever you’ve done?”
“Yes. When I’m ready.”
I’m so lost in the myriad of pain that follows that I think I do pass out. Pain for a while, and then nothing. Peace again. And then it comes back and rams everything it’s got into my stomach before suddenly dropping away again. There’s air in that time. Air and light and soft hands on my head. They wipe and press, firmly holding me in place, as I thrash and growl and struggle for breath.
“Attractive,” his voice says from somewhere above me.
I don’t know what that means, but the feeling of something sharp suddenly scratching into my arm sends my thoughts off in another direction anyway. Nothing happens for a while. It’s still a riot of pain and agony and sickness rolling. I can feel my heart racing, my body convulsing, my fucking brain exploding. But then slowly, bit by bit, the pain begins ebbing away.
“You can let him go now, Alice. Cover yourself.”
My fogged thoughts heard that, and I don’t fucking like what it appears to mean.
My eyes snap open, gaze searching for both him and her. He’s over by the fire, smirking, and she’s still behind me, gathering the black sheet around her. She crawls backwards, tucking herself tight into a corner, and looks between him and me with a frown on her face. Not surprisingly, she’s seems pissed. So am I now I can breathe.
Rolling onto my knees, I brace the floor and slowly stand. It all hurts still, but at least now I can see straight and the stabbing sensations have lessened. Long slow breaths ebb in and out of me, body remembering what it’s for again. It’s shaking, though. Deep ricochets of anger and hatred and fucking annihilation are running through it, reminding me of the weakened state I’ve just been in.
“Don’t,” Gray says, quietly. “Calm down.”
I’m not surprised he’s saying that now I’m back to full strength. I glare, part ready to show him the way out without any words involved, and move my feet in his direction.
“You need to leave,” grunts out of me. “Now.”
“No.” He circles away from me, his hands up as if trying to surrender, one of them clutching the syringe he’s just stabbed me with. “You’ll take them again, and this is the only thing that stops that pain you’ve just been in. Think, Malachi.”
I look at it in his hand, testing my own resolve on the matter. He might be right, but that doesn’t stop the nefarious intent that’s now churning through me because of what he’s just caused. Everything’s burning to kill, to cause pain like he did to me, to light him up regardless of our friendship – if it can still be called that.
“You’re an addict, Malachi. Hear it, deal with it, and accept it.” A hand touches my shoulder before I can move closer, the fingers gripping gently to pull me backwards. “It’s my fault, and my concern to correct.”
The fucking sound of his holier than thou attitude sends what was only burning into full scale scorch mode. Her hand gets thrown from my shoulder, body pushed away as if it’s pointless, and I’m moving so quickly he barely sees me coming. One punch lands so harshly he all but manages to stay on his feet. He takes it and turns to look back at me again, hands still up like he’s not going to engage in this. Fuck him.
He gazes away from me, a sigh coming from his lips. “And look at what you‘ve caused now.”
My head turns, sharp eyes trying to see whatever the hell he’s talking about. Little Alice whimpers by the games table, her hand on her face, blood on her fingers. I stall in place, part way between not giving a fuck and yet incensed by my own actions.
Her feet scramble backwards until she’s huddled tight in her corner again, body trembling.
“I doubt she’ll want to help you anymore. Well done, you fool,” he murmurs, passing by me. I’m even more enraged by the look of him crouching down in front of her, let alone him daring to pick her head up in his fingers, that I can’t contain my mouth.
“Get the fuck off her.”
He ignores me and gets a handkerchief out of his pocket, applying pressure to the side of her temple. “Up you get,” he says, helping her and moving her to a chair. She barely looks at me the entire time, which goes somewhere close to annihilating whatever else was left of my calm.
Four strides and I’m in his face, shoving him sideways until he’s nowhere near her.
She instantly leaps out of the chair to get to the other side of the fireplace.
