Storm, Meet Raine

The Losing.

HIM.

"Sin, get the fuck up bro, I'm not playing." I toss my towel onto the floor after I dried my hair with it. "Aye!"

     He didn't move, and that made my chest tighten as my eyes darted over his side of the room, and practically popped out of my head when I saw the empty needles resting on his bedside table. I grumble curses about how much of an idiot he was as I marched over to the side of his bed and tapped his shoulder. "Bro, I'm not fucking around."

"Simon Adrian Matthews!" I slap him upside the head after yelling in his ear. He didn't even flinch. The room was dead silent for a few moments until he groaned, turning over onto his back. "I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Why are you yelling, man?" His face scrunches up as if he was in pain from the volume of my voice.

"How many did you use?" My gaze switches from his disgruntled self to the needles. I cursed immediately before reaching over and attempting to check his pulse.

"Like four or five," he slaps my hand away from his neck before shooing me away. "Get off my back."

"I'm not on your back, though I should be on your ass. You need to repent. Now. Accept God as your Lord and savior, I'll lay hands on you." I rest the palm of my hand on his forehead, and he slaps my hands away for a second time.

"Calm the fuck down, Mother Teresa. I'm not stupid, I'll pray to some God out there." He waves me off haphazardly, as if he isn't about to die.

"Why did you do this, Sin?"

"I kept forgetting." He mumbles, his red eyes looking extremely distant as he stares off into space. My brows furrow as my hand reaches over to see if his forehead is warm. He slaps it away.

     "Forgetting what?"

     "I'd take it, and a few minutes later I'd look at the table and wonder when was the last time I used it, and I'd just take another, and another, and I guess I didn't realize I was overdosing until now." He looks up at me, and my entire being froze. It's crazy how someone could be in front of you, but be so far gone at the same time.

     "I'm going to fucking kill—"

     "Shh," he lifts a finger to his lips as his eyes narrow, and his eyebrows draw together as if he's struggling to hear something. He sits up from the bed a bit, "Bruh, I hear her."

     "Hear who?"

     "Shut the fuck up, man, you're so loud." He cuts me a look that'll make demons run, "It's my girl."

     "She's dead." Again, he gives me another deadly look, but this time I shrug my shoulders, "She is, dude. And you're high as shit, you're seeing th—"

     "I'm not," he almost growled at me.

Touchy.

     "She's right there—fuck, she sounds so sexy."

     "What's she saying?" He was quiet for a minute, his eyes closed, and he pulled his covers back over him a little more. He complained of being cold.

     "I gotta go, man. I'll talk to you later. My girl is here."

     "What's she saying, Sin." I raise my voice, feeling my heart lurch in my chest and threaten to climb up my throat. I've never witnessed someone die, and today will not be the day. He breathes in sharply before coughing obnoxiously into his closed fist. You could hear the congestion in his chest as he hacked away, cursing a few times.