He yanks free again and says in a voice more his than mine, “No.” Then everything goes black. Only for a heartbeat, then I can see again. I watch as Meggie’s face goes from absolutely pissed to absolutely horrified. She sprints away from us.
“What did you do?!” I yell at him.
Nothing.
Fuck.
“Megs,” I whisper pleadingly, still staring at where she disappeared into the crowd.
Someone puts another drink in Kit’s hand. The vodka continues to rise as he continues to drink and dance. It isn’t long before the liquid reaches my chin. And not long after that that I’m treading in it. Soon enough, I’ll be drowning. My legs and arms move wildly to keep myself afloat. Can I die in here? If I die in here, does Kit get to keep my body forever?
“Kit!” I yell, kicking the window with as much power as I can muster in the vodka soda sea. I kick and I kick, trying and failing to get his attention. “Kit, please!”
I can see out the top sliver of the window, barely, but I can tell that we’re moving. Kit staggers through the sea of people and down a black hallway. He pushes his way past a line of women and into the men’s room.Oh, no.
“Kit, don’t you dare take me into a men’s bathroom at a club!”
God, even the thought of entering this place is enough to give me nightmares. I swim closer to the window so I can press my face against the glass again. It’s still dark, but quieter, loud music muted by the closed door. The floor is littered with scraps of toilet paper, paper towels, questionable liquids, discarded beer bottles, cans, and condom wrappers. There are a few guys at the urinals, but they pay Kit no mind as he pushes his way into a stall, slamming the crooked door behind him.
“Don’t you dare put my ass on that toilet!”
He does.Ewww. This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. I can’t actually feel it, but I know my ass is touching it. Mystomach swims, bile rising in my throat. I’ll need approximately thirty showers after this night.
Suddenly, the liquid drops. Not entirely, but enough that my feet hit the floor again and the sea is only around my neck, my hair floating around me. I ignore the fact that Kit’s hand is in between my legs as he wipes before he stands and rebuttons his pants.
This is the first time he’s peed all night. First time all day, in fact. Do normal bodily functions not work while you’re possessed? How does that make sense? Though he did display some enhanced strength earlier tonight, so having a demon inside of oneself alters one’s natural body chemistry? I have no idea. Something to ask Kit when he stops being an unbearable drunk asshole, I guess.
Kit stumbles out of the bathroom, slamming into a wall in the hallway.
Everything goes black.
I suck in a huge breath as I plunge back into my body. I gawp around wildly, squinting at the flashes of blue and purple light. Hey, now. I am no longer in the void. I’m in the club. I am clubbing. In my own body. And oh, fuck me sideways.
I hurl myself at a trashcan already filled with other people’s vomit and retch, about sixteen of the vodka sodas coming up.
A random woman approaches from behind and holds my hair back, patting my back as a few more of Kit’s drinks make an appearance. “There, there,” she says. “Release your puke, little bird.” I love drunk women. They’re so kind.
I push myself away from the trash can with shaky arms.Where did Kit go? Did he leave? Is this his idea of a joke? Get me so wasted I should probably go to the hospital for a stomach pump and then ditch me? Andowww. It’s like a thousand little knives have shoved themselves into my feet. These heels are not meant to be worn for hours on end, especially when dancing.
“You all right?” the woman asks, dabbing my mouth with a black cocktail napkin.
“Yesh,” I slur. “I have to find Megs.”
“Who’s that?”
“Sister.”
“Good. Be safe, little bird.” She pats my head and dances away.
Ughhhhhh. The vodka is still splashing around my head, and my stomach, tittering me off balance.
I stumble back to the dance floor, but Meggie is nowhere to be seen. Tears roll down my cheeks as I do several unbalanced loops of the club before giving up. She left me. She said she would never do that.
I stagger through the thinning crowds, bumping into other drunkards before I find a wall and sink down to the ground, still crying. After a while, the drunk woman from before comes up to me.
“Oh, little bird.” She wipes at my tears with her whole palms. “Let’s get you home.”
I nod. She pulls me to my feet. Holding my hand, she leads me out of the club, my head still swinging around in search of Meggie, as we follow the glowing red beacon of hope (the exit sign). Each step sends a jolt of agony through the giant blisters formerly known as my feet. I stumble out the front door,causing the woman to lose my hand. The bouncer catches me before I fall to the ground.
