Spillage || TW {18+}

♦ 02 ♦

picture; Jaxson Poole

song; "Crave You (Adventure Club Dubstep Remix)" by Flight Facilities

author's note; Despite the dark themes in this story, I find it extremely fun to write. This is my first mature story I've posted on Wattpad and I really like being able to freely describe things, no matter how horrible or wonderful they are.

With that being said, this chapter has a Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault, drug use, mental health

I hope you all enjoy!

____________________________________________________________

Lightly put, alcohol was bad. I'd never been fond of the burning trail it left as it went down, or of the bitter taste that was a given remnant of it when it came back up. It made my vision blurry and caused people to either be better than they are normally, or make stupid decisions. It was drunk when it happened, and I'm talking about both times it happened. In the same night.

Liquor made my dad pretty swollen, and that only added to my dislike for it.

Fourteen years young and I was taking care of his nearly daily hangovers, wading around the house in galoshes and tipping the overturned furniture back up. Tipsy, turvy, ridiculous worrying, but it was the way God wanted my life to be. So, I'd grin and bear through it.

Jaxon tasted like alcohol, and that was lightly put. He tasted like the lining of a freaking keg. I was straddling him topless in some randomly picked room with the party in full swing just below the bed poles. 

He was a good kisser, but due to the extra shots of tequila I'd seduced him into not even twenty minutes before, he was also sloppy. Sober I bet he could make my toes curl, but then again, him genuinely smiling at me could make my toes curl.

I leaned up from him, burning obsidian eyes peering down at his slightly swollen and now hot pink from being ravished lips. "You know, you're pretty cute half-ass drunk, Jax." A tingle of a crooked smirk tilted on my lips.

"I could say the same for you, but you're pretty cute all the time, Ryles." His hands skimmed up my sides and he pressed me back into him, rolling over so he was hovering above me now. A memory pressed into my head, and despite my fight to will it away, it crashed down and held me anyway.

"Don't you want to, Ryles? C'mon, babe. You're different from all the others." His black eyes stared into me, a reflection of his damaged soul, or maybe a symbol he was born without one. 

Dean's lips were pulled into the ghost of a smile, pupils dilated so huge I couldn't tell where they ended in his dark orbs. Cocaine's effects.

"I do, but..." I halted, turning to look back to the crowd still gathered out on the beach a couple yards away from the abandoned cabin. "Not here tonight with all our friends close enough to hear."

"Afraid you'll be too loud?" That smirk formulated again, completely erasing the dead grin from before. I playfully pushed him, shaking my head and giggling like the naïve and ditzy fifteen year old I had been.

"No, I just want it to be more private. A sweeter memory than this dusty old cabin." I gestured to the worn-out little building we were sheltered in. 

Dean seemed to be watching the wall behind me, and he didn't say anything for so long, I didn't really expect him to respond.

"It'll be fun to do it this way, Ryles. Aren't you all about being spontaneous and different anyhow?" This was supposed to be the part where I proclaimed he was acting weird and storm out, but this wasn't some bad romantic-comedy where the main girl meets her Knight in Shining Armor after walking out on the Asshole Boyfriend.