Lost in a Reverie 18+ Only (Book 1 of Lastor Series) ['23/'24 EDIT]

Chapter 14

I snorted the line in one sharp inhale, the white powder entering my nostrils, filling my already fucked up head.

I leaned back against the couch as I sat on the floor, facing the large bed where three bodies were tangled together in a fit of forbidden pleasure as one man knelt behind Andrea, fucking her cunt with his cock while she fucked the man lying underneath her with her mouth as a fat lady howled from the record player, her voice a sharp soprano as she sang her sorrows in barely intelligible Italian.

I never liked operas.

The three bodies writhed, crying out in pleasure and cursing. While I sat in one corner in this dark room, motionless, wanting to escape from the pain that consumed every inch of me inside out.

I wanted to shoot myself.

I actually did.

I took a shot of vodka and winced.

Life has lost its appeal to me before I even reached puberty. Drugs and alcohol could only go so far. They always wore off and I was getting tired of chasing a high that always crashed. I wanted something permanent. The real goddamn thing. Death.

I screwed my eyes shut, trying to cast away the awful thoughts my demons were feeding me, taking advantage of my weak state.

I was losing it. My grip. My will. My goddamn mind.

When I had woken up earlier, enveloped in the arms of the man who had effortlessly broken me down, I genuinely wanted to die.

It just struck me, blindsided me, and I couldn't shake it off as I stared at his unconscious state, envying him as he slept peacefully. Not one demon lurking in his mind. Not an ounce of pain clawing at his insides. I wanted it. I longed for it.

So I snuck into my father's office, took his revolver, and got drunk enough to muster up the courage to press the barrel of the gun against my temple as I stood in front of the mirror, finding irony in the fact that the last sight I'd see before I finally escaped my hell was the girl I hated more than anything in the world.

I shot it. I pulled the trigger. Pulled it again and again. And again. But I didn't die.

The damn thing didn't have bullets.

Fuck me, right?

And then I thought about my brother. He'd probably kill himself too if he had to bury me six feet under the ground in the middle of next week. And I fell into this downwards spiral filled with regret, anxiety, anger, and hatred that not even a shot of heroine could save me from.

I had to get out. I had to leave. I needed to escape.

Now here I was, drunk and high off my fucking mind. Pondering on death while watching three people fuck each other in front of me. This shit is golden.

"Jelly Bean!" I heard my best friend's voice call out to me.

I snapped out of it and set my eyes on her, doing my damndest to focus. She staggered towards me, bare ass naked and giggling, looking as drunk and high as I was but not as miserable. I glanced at the two men she had abandoned. They were sucking each other's dicks while laying on their sides.

"Babe, I'm tapping out. I've cum three times. You need to get in there. Enzo's on a roll tonight."

I shook my head, lighting up a cigarette. I didn't come here to fuck. I came here to have snow shoved up my nose for free, not a dick up my cunt.

I watched her as she bent over the coffee table and snorted a line. She was grinning, her eyes alight with a glaze of euphoria. I missed that, how cocaine used to make me feel invincible. Safe. Relieved. Excited. Now, all it did was make me numb and it didn't even last for long these days.