Glazed Eyes, Empty Hearts ➳ Spideypool

14➳Blue

I know you're seeing black and white
So I'll paint you a clear blue sky
Without you I'm colour-blind
It's raining every time I open my eyes
I want you
I'll colour me blue
Only seeing myself
When I'm looking up at you
*

So instead, I down the murky liquid in the red solo cup and hope to god that my enhanced metabolism helps take care of the drugs.

Fuzzy. Spinning. Blurry. Grey.

Pain. Bruised. Bloody. Crying.

Desperation. Emptiness. Confusion. Sadness.

It didn't just stop with the first red solo cup. They keep handing me more and if I try to say no or pretend to take it, they have no problem hitting me or forcing me to drink it.

Jason had at least a dozen of those white pills that he keeps slipping into my drinks, but I think he's out now. I still have no idea what they were, but now I'm just hoping it's not possible to overdose.

I'm lying on the floor in the center of the living room, all the men sitting around me on the couches. None of them are even looking at me, engrossed in the football game playing on the TV and the beers in their hands. Their 'party' has more or less died down now that they've had their fun beating me up and handing me drinks.

I almost wish Jason had sent me out. Wade's probably worried. Tony's probably worried. Gwen's probably worried. I'm worried. Right now, they could do whatever they wanted to me and with the drugs coursing my system, there's nothing I could do to stop them.

My shirt is wet. Drenched in one of the man's beers that he spilled while kicking the shit out of me. I'm sure their names were passed around at some point, but I can't remember any of them.

I think Jason's still angry with me. His jaw is locked and he's barely touching his alcohol, leg bouncing a little bit. It's an effort to focus on those thoughts. They slip from my brain before I can fully grasp onto anything.

The drugs have definitely taken effect, but I'm not quite sure what to do about that. Well, drugs and alcohol. I've had more than I should've, but I couldn't say no.

Plus, it's nice.

I hate myself for thinking that, but it's nice to have something to numb my skin. It's nice to take a beating and not immediately feel the pain and the anguish and guilt and all those all shitty emotions. It's nice to not have to think about anything. It's nice.

Mister Stark will hate me if he finds out. With his drinking past, he's going to hate me for getting drunk like this.

I'm not sure if it's drunk. With the pills, it's hard to tell how much of it is alcohol.

Either way, I'm numb and I'm falling in love with the feeling.

*

After the football game finishes, the men all turn towards me.

"You wanna get us some snacks?" One of the men says. He's been the nicest of them all so far. He wasn't nice at the beginning and I wasn't sure nice drunks existed, but apparently, the alcohol has made him into a kinder person.