Will You Trust Me? // Connor x Reader

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Wonderland

"As part of being property," His mocking tone spat, "You'll receive unlimited access to the newest, finest drugs that there are available. You can thank me now, ladies."

Only one woman seemed excited about Errin's announcement as she stepped up to the tray and took a long, unrelenting sniff of the crystallized powder. The sight made you feel sick... no one even tried to stop her as one of the other pimps took her away to one of the vacant rooms down the hall. The look on her face maddened you: dilated pupils, mouth hung wide open in a drunken high, her cheeks flushed red in pleasure. It was clear that this man that took her away was going to take advantage of her.

"May I also add that this is a requirement if you are to stay with us. Alive, that is," He added, forcing a small, purple pill into your delicate hand. You looked at the man with wide eyes.

"Go on," He cooed. "Swallow it."

You scoffed at the man, giving him a look that could kill if he were anyone else. Unfortunately, the situation you were currently in was dire.

"You're kidding? Right?" You asked, looking at the small pill in your hand. This pill could be capable of anything. It's smell and color were foreign to you, even as a detective.

Errin grabbed your wrist forcefully, pushing your hand up to your mouth, "It isn't a choice, hun. I didn't ask you,"

The pill tasted fruity. Like, a weird fake orange taste that you weren't too fond of as a kid. It's texture was grainy, and it melted in your mouth in the strangest way. It almost felt like you were sucking on hay, or grass, or something...

"Good girl..." Errin cooed again, pushing you towards one of the other men in the room.

Since the chemicals in that pill hadn't reached your bloodstream yet, you weren't feeling anything except for fear. You knew what was about to happen, and this had to have been the scariest thing to happen to you yet. All you saw before you was the messy bed, the ropes, the fuzzy carpet... it was a sight you'd never forget to remember to forget.

--

Stale whiskey, dog fur, laundry detergent: the three scents you just happened to wake up to were some of the best you had woken up to in days. Months, even. 12 months and 39 days, to be exact. In fact, this was the first time you had woken up in such comfort since then. Such familiarity was so foreign to you.

You rubbed the muscles in the crook of your neck as you sat up, your eyes hardly staying open as you tried to look around the room. There were glass bottles littered everywhere. A reminder of the previous night you had spent with Hank drinking away your fears, your memories, your doubts... all just for them to return to you this very morning. They hurt your head, made you think too hard. Your headache was searing.

Fear rippled through your body again as you looked to the dirtied coffee table to your right and saw a small, white pill and tall glass of water paired together on top of a fast food napkin. That pill may have been white, but all you saw was lavender. You refused to touch the pill, the harsh memories being the sole perpetrator for your actions. All you could do was tightly clutch the soft blanket wrapped around you in your hand as you stared at the table.

"You should take that medicine, (Y/n). It'll help with your hangover."

That voice. So soft, once so gentle to you-- now so mechanical and dull.

"I- don't want to," Your words were brief, but he continued to persist.

"That hangover will continue to degrade your mental health if you let it persist. It could also lead to unresolved anger. Taking that medicine might help you."