The Original High (Koli) ✔️

39: I Quit!

I know I haven't updated this in many many months. I'm sorry about that. I found it hard to continue this because I felt that it really sucked. anyways.... the story is almost over. I'll try to update it more frequently from now on!

and I'm sorry if this chapter is confusing. if it doesn't make sense, re-read chapter 21.

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"So he still doesn't have his memory back?" I heard Vic's familiar voice ask Oli as they entered the loft.

"Not as far as I can tell." Oli simply told him, and he sounded convincing enough.

I was waiting in the middle of the room, fully dressed and hands pressed into my sides, waiting patiently. Okay, perhaps a little impatiently. I was amused that Oli had actually remembered that I told him that I wanted Vic to believe that I didn't remember anything. But by now, I had other plans.

I watched them both walk inside, Vic finally looking at me when Oli closed the door behind them. And that's kinda when I lost it. Remembering the fact that Vic had this planned out all along kind of made me want to smack the shit outta him.

So without any further thought, I charged at him. "Victor Vincent Fuentes. . ." I snarled, his eyes going wider the closer I got. "How dare you!" I then screamed. But Vic was quick to grab my wrists before I got the chance to hit him in any way.

"Okay, I'm pretty sure he remembers." He then said, turning his head towards Oli.

Oli just shrugged, a rather innocent look etched into his face.

"Of course I remember, Fuentits!" I finally glowered, pulling my wrists from Vic's hold. "I can't believe you didn't just tell me!" I then added bitterly, folding my arms across my chest.

"We were advised not to." He quickly explained, a pleading tone to his voice. "We just tried to do what was best for you, Kells."

And honestly, I couldn't stay mad at him for long. Of course I knew damn well that Vic just wanted to help, which was exactly what he did. And the most amazing thing was, that even with my memory wiped, I became close with Oli. It was how I knew that, however cheesy it sounded, we were meant to be.

"But you really need to wake up now."

I shot Vic a questioning look. Wake up? "What do you mean?" I asked him. I was awake. . . I wasn't doing drugs. . . I was making my life better. . . so what the hell did he mean?

"You need to wake up." Vic simply repeated, but it still made no sense to me at all. And I took a moment to think about it, but it only made my head hurt. Things went a little hazy before I looked at Vic again, his face vague and blurry. "Wake up, Kellin." He told me.

And that's when I did wake up. I took a deep breath, almost choking on something vile before I managed to spit it back out on the floor. My head was thumping and my body felt sore. Oh my god, what was going on?

I opened my eyes, minutes going by before I realized where I was. . .

I was in my room, in my sister's home, sitting with my back against my bed. And that's when I got really sick. I leaned over and heaved, throwing out some disgusting liquid and vague remnants of pills. Some I recognized as the orange pills I used to take, and some of my old sleeping pills.

What? Why?

Wait, old sleeping pills? I frowned questioningly, noticing the empty pill bottle near the wall. I reached over and grabbed it, reading the label, shock settling once I noticed the date.

Confused and dizzy, I crawled back to the bed and grabbed my phone, ignoring the numerous missed calls from Oli and Vic, and heading straight to the calendar app to check the date.

"What the fuck?!" I screamed at the screen, tears bursting from my eyes. I was out! I was out of this place. I had gone to rehab, gotten better, moved to London, got back with Oli. . . but it was all a dream. A fucking dream?!

I threw my phone away again, strangled cries leaving my throat. Whatever mixture of drugs and alcohol I had taken, had given me one extremely lucid dream.

"Fuck this!" I yelled, firing the empty pill bottle away from me.

At that point, I was determined to get rid of everything. I didn't want to have a single thing around me anymore. So I took my entire bedside drawer with me and went to the kitchen. I grabbed the bottles of alcohol that we had, even my sister's wine bottles. I grabbed the strips of 'harmless' painkillers as well, and then I went to the bathroom. There I took everything else I could find, and emptied all of it into the toilet.

"This is the day I fucking quit." I snarled down at the pills, the tears still falling. "I don't care how hard it will be. I don't fucking want this life anymore!" I finally said before flushing the toilet.

This had to be the end of it.