Intoxicated With You

Chapter 8

Blake's POV

 I don't know how long I've been here—laying on the bathroom floor—throwing up. Crying. Shivering. Sweating. Wishing I was dead. What did these people do to me? I feel the absolute worst I've ever felt in my entire life. Why did these people stop me from killing myself only to make me feel like death? And they won't leave me alone. Tyler, Dylan, or Noah is always with me. No matter how much I try to kick them so they will leave me alone but, they move to where I can't reach them. It doesn't make sense to me. All I've done is think about it since I first started throwing up; all I've done is be sick or lay on the ground thinking about it. Sometimes I hear someone talking to me, but I don't have care enough to listen. They have forced me to drink water a few times, and they weren't nice about it. One of them forces me to sit up while another one shoves a water bottle in my mouth and forces my head to look up, so I have to swallow it. I don't understand. Why would Tyler do this? I thought he was my friend, but they were worse than my stepdad and his friends. 

 Why would they give me hope to take it away when I needed it the most? I want to be left alone to die. Is that too much to ask for? My whole body hurts, and I know I have to be close to death. I don't think I can do this anymore. I've given up. I have no hope, no reason to live, everyone I've ever met hates me and wants me dead, and I'm tired of fighting it. I wish I never existed.

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Noah's POV

 Three days. Blake's been lying on her bathroom floor for three days. She won't eat. We bring her every meal, but they all have gone bad, and she wasn't even taken a bite. She's been sick a lot, so I'm not surprised she doesn't want to eat. She won't drink anything either. We've had to make her drink water a few times now so that she wouldn't die. I don't know what is going on in her head. All she does is stare off into the distance, screaming at the top of her lungs while kicking at us or crying. She won't even talk anymore. I'm not even sure she knows someone is there with her. I hate seeing her like this. I hate seeing anyone like this. It's unnerving. I've called the doctor a few times, but she says everything seems right with withdrawal symptoms and that we have to wait for her to detox. It sucks.

	When I'm doing pack work, I can't take my mind off of her, and when I'm at home, the whole place smells like her, and when it's my shift to make sure she doesn't do anything to hurt herself or accidentally die I want to find out if I should even have her hear. I've looked into it, and I still don't know if I can take back my rejection. So in my free time, I distract myself the best way I know. Sex. There are plenty of she-wolves eager to please their alpha in this building alone. This is the packhouse, and a good portion of the pack lives here, but some wolves still live around the city. Our pack is very involved in human life, although the humans are unaware of us.

 "Oh yeah." The girl below me moans. I don't care enough to learn her name. She isn't in our pack. She's a human, but I just really needed someone to distract me from my mate. I didn't want to meet her yet. I wanted to be young and single while I could; I didn't want to meet my mate and be tied down. Once I fuck my way thru the city, then maybe I'd think about my mate and settling down..... if she was the best lay. "Fuck me," she moans again. Damn, she is sexy as hell. I wonder if Blake's moans sound this good. Even fucking someone else, I can't get her out of my head. UGH 

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Blake's POV

 "Blake," I hear someone calling my name and moving my leg but I don't bother to move. "Blake, you need to eat and drink something." I hear someone tell me again. Its Tyler. Why? So they can poison me again? So I can keep suffering? I don't think so. I keep lying there. Tyler walks over to get in my face. "I'm going to pick you up and move you to give you something to eat if you don't start moving right now." He says with a smile, but I still don't move. Tyler puts a hand under me, lifting me while Dylan grabs my left arm but is careful to go for my right arm, that's still in a cast. I don't want to move from the cold ground; that's the one good thing in my life right now. Tyler and Dylan get me to my feet and are pretty much holding me up completely. 

 "Can you stand up on your own? If not, I'll bring your food up here for you, but if you can, we can go downstairs to eat if you want." Dylan says, ducking down some to look me in the eye. I use all my energy to manage a nod. I haven't done anything but lay on the ground, but I'm exhausted. Dylan and Tyler slowly loosen their grip on me before letting go but keeping their hands close in case I fall.

 "Ok. Do you want to go downstairs?" Tyler was walking back around in front of me. I nod again. 

 "Ok. Let's go," Dylan says, walking out of the bathroom in front of me. Tyler doesn't move but motions for me to go first. I follow behind Dylan down the stairs.

 "Sit," Dylan says, motioning to the table, so I sit in the closest chair to me. Tyler walks to the fridge and pulls out a water bottle before walking back to me with it. 

 "Drink it. Dylan's going to make you some food, but you have to drink that whole bottle of water." Tyler instructs, taking the cap of the bottle off for me. I pick up the bottle of water. It actually feels nice to have water. I start chugging the water down as fast as I can before they change their minds and take it away from me. "Slow down," Tyler says, pulling the water bottle from me. I knew they'd take it from me.

 "If you drink it that fast you're going to get sick again," Dylan says from the kitchen. 

 "Take small sips," Tyler says, handing that bottle back to me. I watch him to see if this is a trick, but he just smiles, so I pick up the bottle of water from the table and start taking small sips like Tyler said but look directly at him to see if it was a trick. I finish the bottle of water right as Dylan brings me my food. He sets down a plate with a piece of plain chicken on it.

 "You need protein. I'll get you another bottle of water." He says, turning to back to the fridge. He brings me another bottle of water like he said and brings a plastic fork and a knife. He sets the bottle of water down in front of me, hands the fork and knife to Tyler to take the plate of chicken from me then uses them to cut the chicken. Once he is done, he puts the plastic fork on the plate, scoots it back over to me, then stands up and puts the knife in the sink. They don't even trust me to cut my own chicken. 

 I take a bite of the chicken that probably has whatever poison they gave me before. I already feel like death; maybe this one will finally do the job. Put me out of my suffering. I have to find a way to make sure that this ends soon. No matter what.

 Tyler and Dylan talk amoungs themselves as I eat most of my chicken. As I take my last few bites of chicken Noah and an almost naked girl walk down the stairs. Noah's only wearing shorts, and the girl is in an oversized black shirt. Most likely Noah's shirt, and that's all she is wearing. She's giggling in a really annoying way. Actually, probably not, but everything seems to annoy me recently. Probably cause I feel like death. 

 "Go back upstairs, babe. I'll bring you something up." Noah says, turning the girl around and smacking her ass before walking back up the stairs. Noah then turns to the kitchen and starts looking thru one of the cabinets as I take my last bite of chicken. I grab my plate and walk it over to the sink. Noah stops me before I make it to the sink and takes the knife out of it. I just roll my eyes in annoyance before turning to the sink and running water over my plate. I grab some dish soap and start scrubbing the plate, making it clean, while Noah keeps the knife near him but goes back to looking thru the cabinets. 

 "Noah," I hear the girl's whiny voice again. "Noah, this place is so big I forgot which room is yours" The girl stands at the tops of the stairs complaining. Noah walks towards the stairs a few steps and gives her directions back to his room. I look at Dylan and Tyler, who are both looking at the girl like she is stupid. This is it. This is my chance. They're all distracted. I step back from the sink and drop the plate on the ground causing it to shatter. Everyone turns to me. I just bend down and pick up the sharpest piece. I can find and tuck it in my pants under my shirt; if I'm dying, it's on my terms—Noah's walking around the kitchen island right as I start picking up pieces of the plate.

 "Blake, ugh. Really?" Noah huffs, walking over to me, bending down to help pick up the pieces. "Just go upstairs. Someone get me a broom." Noah says, taking the pieces of the plate from my hands and then shooing me away. "Honesty, you're going to hurt yourself," Noah grumbles as I walk up the stairs. The girl is still standing there watching the whole scene, and I see Tyler walking, carrying a broom, headed towards the kitchen. Once I get inside my bedroom, I close the door quietly and lock it. Then I get to the bathroom and take the piece of glass out of my pants and close that door too. Now I can do the one thing I've been thinking about doing for a long time. 

 I sit on the ground leaning against the bathtub and take a deep breath. I rub my hand over the side of the shard of glass to find the sharpest point. I feel a sting on my hand, and I know I've found it. Good. I can't get to my right wrist, so I will have to do it on my left one. I grip the glass in my right hand and make sure I have a good hold on it.

 I take a deep breath, raise the glass to my left wrist and muster all the strength I can, slicing from my hand all the way up to my inner elbow. It doesn't take long for the blood to start flowing. That feels better. Being in pain and being able to see blood, something about it, is just calming. It seems right. But it's not enough. I do it again, making my arm bleed more. A lot, not actually. The shirt I'm wearing is now covered in it, and so are my pants and legs. I can feel my heartbeat increase from the loss of blood. It shouldn't be long now. I start feeling light-headed. Someone could still come in and stop me, and I can't have that so. I start to do it again, but soon my hand is so covered in blood the glass is slipping, and my fingers aren't working like I want them to. I try to hold on tighter, but my fingers don't seem to get the message. The lightheadedness is getting to me, I can barely keep my eyes open, and the room is spinning. I go to pick up the glass, but my arm feels like it weighs 10,000 pounds, so I give up. I let my head fall backward and soon.

 Darkness consumes me.

Chapter 9 - Intoxicated With You