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A sharp set of eyes.
You're dizzy. Everything is melting around you. Your skin, the air.
You're on a lot of drugs. At least, you think you are. You remember taking something. A lot of somethings. Or do you? Perhaps you're sober, just going crazy.
Sauce is on your fingers. You must have just eaten. You lick your pointer finger. Pennies — no — blood. This isn't sauce. Your skin feels hotter than before, your vision speckled with little black dots. What happened? Where are you?
A hand falls on your shoulder. You feel the pressure vibrate through your body, the drugs amplifying the touch with a magnitude beyond sober comprehension. The sharp set of eyes vibrate in front of you.
"Good job," you hear. It sounds like you're under water. You forgot words were a thing you were capable of hearing or speaking. "How do you feel?"
You want to close your eyes, but are worried that if you do, the dizziness will consume you. You shake your head gently.
Suddenly, you are seated. The room swirls around you. The whole Earth is spinning. You are at the center of that spin. Another hand on you, this one on your thigh. The sharp eyes return, spinning. A powder is cut up by another set of eyes on the table. What is a table? God, you are so high.
Another set of eyes is laying on the ground a few paces away, staring at the ceiling. They look terrifyingly still, like little glass balls. Part of you knows, beyond all the drugs, that his name was Jake, that they told you to hurt him, that he's not waking up, that the blood on your fingers is his.
A hand on the back of your head. It pushes you down towards the table, to the line of white powder sitting there waiting. You inhale sharply — because some deep thought in the back of your mind knows that they'll shoot you if you don't — then sit back up. Needles in your brain. Are there needles in your brain? Dear God, you need to get them out. The needles quickly turn into drills. Your chest tightens and seizes, but you hardly register it.
Your head rolls forward, slams down against the table, and does not rise again.
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YOU ARE READING
servitude.
Fanfiction[] NEW [] It is then that you know he was lying. The glowing chains grip your wrists with painful force, and as he sneers down at you, you acknowledge that you never should have believed him. ⋈ Cover background art credit to LeucisticAxel on Amino...
