Vomit climbs my throat, and I run to the bathroom. Trash and random belongings crunch under my feet as I go. Falling to my knees, I catch the porcelain side of the toilet just in time. There’s nothing left in my stomach. I don’t expressly remember the last time I’ve eaten. Even after I finish dry heaving, my shoulders keep shaking, and I realize I’m sobbing. I’m still alive, and that’s the last thing any of us wants.
When I pull my ass off the floor, I’m soaked in sweat and so fucking pathetic. I need the sink, but I avoid the mirror above it with everything in me. A splash of water across my face rinses away the rest of my vomit. Fingers that don’t feellike mine search my pockets until I find a pill bottle. The cap twists beneath my numb palm. Two solitary little pills sit in the bottom, and my heart races.Fuck.I shove them into my mouth and swallow them dry. My phone is already in my hand, dialing the number I need. A secretary answers, and I grunt my name. All I need to get priority treatment anywhere is to drop my damn name. After a lifetime avoiding the need for my family name, here I am, depending on it.
“Yes?” Dr. G asks.
“I need more,” I tell him, not bothering with a greeting.
“It’s only been a few days.” Judgment hangs in his tone, and my eyes roll at the idea of him playing the good doctor when we both know he was the one who shoved them down my throat to begin with. The man knew exactly what he was doing.
“I’ll pay whatever you want. Just send the damn pills.”
“Ah,” he says, agreeing to leave the pleasantries behind. All I want from him is drugs, and all he wants from me is money. “Well, my hourly rate has tripled, and you’ve taken three hours of my time today.”
“Give me a number and send someone over with them, but send double.” I end the call, shoving the phone away, tired of all the misery it brings me.
My stomach is so empty that the drugs are already dissolving into my system. I take a breath, and this time, I stare at myself in the mirror, knowing nothing will make me “clean” again. Soren fades until I’m standing there with dark black eyes that are nearly blank. Some part of me knows my name and that I’m here at Bellthorn. I’m not completely gone, but I’m gloriously numb, and I don’t care about one thing.
Not that I let myself be vulnerable enough to fall in love. And then lost the girl in such a short time. Damn, it’s actually comical. I’m a fucking joke, hated by everyone I’ve ever cared about, and a sudden disappointment to my family. I don’t carethat I let some yuppy, spoiled princess slip me drugs and rape me. I don’t care that I came while she did it, or that everyone I love in this entire world hates me as a result of it. Hell, I hate me more than they do. I’m sure of it. A dry laugh leaves the back of my throat as I stare at the pathetic excuse for a man in front of me, and I don’t feel that either. For the first time in hours, I’m tired.
My limbs drag as I head back to my bed. Whichever delivery boy the good doctor sends will find his way in. The sheets and blanket that disgusted me so badly are fine now, soft and meaningless. My phone goes off, and the flare of hope, begging for it to be Sable, is so dim it may as well not exist. Next is my worry that Arabella already made another number to bother me from. Why won’t she leave me alone? It wasn’t enough to drug me, to fuck me against my will, and takeeverythingfrom me in one move? Family, friends, and the only girl who I’ve ever really cared about. She needs to taunt me too? That doesn’t bother me like it should either.
Instead, I find my brother’s name. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since Sable disappeared, and I’m desperate to talk to him. I fucking miss him. We were always bickering. I was always too worried about keeping myself away from the family legacy and not being in Bellthorn even when I was physically in Bellthorn. So much wasted time being an asshole on my high horse, and now that he’s not here anymore, it feels like someone cut off a part of me. What I feel about him is so intense that even the drugs can’t numb the empty feeling taking over me when I read his message.
Orion: I fucking hate you, and I hate looking in the mirror at your miserable face. You cursed me. I’ll be back at school soon, and you'd better stay away from me.
Pain twistsmy stomach as I stare at his words. They’re not as sharp as they could be, but it still hurts.
Me: I’ll do my best to avoid you.
I sit there for a few more minutes before someone knocks on my door. I answer, finding a familiar face behind it. Blond hair, blue eyes, I recognize him as another student here at Bellthorn, though I don’t know his name. It strikes me as odd that the doctor would send a student, but when he pushes the bottle into my hands, I don’t particularly care about the nature of their relationship.
“Two grand,” he says.
If it were another time, I might give a shit about being robbed, but not right now. There are only two things I want, and only one of them can be paid for. I open my drawer and peel off a chunk of cash, quickly counting a pile of it and handing it off to him. I have far too much money to worry about losing a little bit of it. He flips it in front of his face, quickly counting, and then nods before leaving. I don’t know if he cut himself in, and I don’t care.
My brother hates me. I hate myself. I’m not sure why I’m even here anymore. Opening the bottle, I spill a couple onto my desk. A crystal paperweight my mother gave me last Christmas serves its first real use when I crush both pills with it. Cuttingthem into four neat lines, I take one more bill and roll it. They disappear off the desk, and my nostrils burn. The “nothing” feeling amplifies into a blissed-out sort of numbness.
Why do I bother waiting to take more?I’m already losing my will to fight, already a little hot under the collar if I go too long without them. Next time, I won’t bother. I turn on some music as I head back to my bed, and instead of wallowing in my misery, I float.
CHAPTER 8
HADRIAN
ONE MONTH WITHOUT SABLE
I sit on my bed.Sable’s scrapbook lies on the bed in front of me, and my fingers trail over the little paper hearts she cut out and glued to a vacation photo of her and a girl we all believed was named Liliana, but the computer in front of me assures me that Liliana Davenport never existed. My phone buzzes, and I read the notifications as they scroll across the screen.
Mother: It was childish not to come home for the holidays. Elodie missed you, and it may have been Grandmother Frampton’s last Christmas.
Elodie: Mom’s a bitch. Don’t come home or you’ll be as miserable as I am. I miss you. Can’t wait until we’re both at Bellthorn.
I can’t bring myself to answer the line of texts. My piano stares at me from its seat in the corner. Dust starts to collect on the lid like an accusation.Why won’t you touch me?A song forms in my head, discordant notes, harsh and shocking, like theloss of something precious. A forlorn melody… it all stops before it comes together. The music ceases inside my head. Once it’s silent again, I’m haunted. I’ve heard music playing in my head for as long as I can remember, but this is different. Why am I not myself without her?
The computer monitor burns my eyes. I’m so tired I feel it in every part of me, but that’s not why I’m stopping for now. Searching until my eyes bleed sounds reasonable enough to me. If I could, I would. But I think they’ll close long before then.
Standing from my bed, I open the door that used to lead to her just long enough to know her scent is starting to fade from the space. All the times I fucked her while she slept seem so precious now that I’m not sure I’ll ever have her again. There isn’t a chance in my mind that she’s gone for good like the other guys. I can’t even consider the possibility if I want to get out of bed in the morning. The air is colder than it should be, or maybe that’s just my life since Sable ran away.
I can’t stay here, so I leave both our rooms behind. The hall echoes around me with each step. My eyes trace over the walls with determination and aimlessness, both born out of desperation. The macabre regalia bores me more than usual. Black, white, silver, and the occasional flash of crimson deck the halls, but Christmas passed a few days ago, and I’m not sure why they haven’t taken it all down yet.
