Okay

.24.

"Drew."

The sound of my name breaks through the black stillness in my head.

"Drew, son." My head is shifted without my consent and an ache instantly blooms in it. "Come on kid. Wake up."

Letting out a groan that only intensifies the pounding in my skull, I say a silent prayer that whoever the fuck is trying to wake me goes away.

"That's it, come on."

Everything aches, the floor hard beneath me.

"Yeah, I know but I need you to wake up Drew."

That's Mo. It's always Mo.

"Go 'way." I mutter.

"Not a chance." He answers back. "Now wake up."

I try to roll to my side but he catches me, forcing me back flat. There's a cramp in my stomach, screaming at me as it turns with nausea.

"Eyes open Drew." He commands but I don't want to, it's just gonna hurt. "Now."

I can hear his lack of patience for me in his voice and I know he'll just keep yelling at me until he gets his way. So even though I don't want to, I listen. Cracking one eye open as little as possible, my head throbs, everything's blurry.

"Let's sit you up." Mo says, lifting my body without any help from me.

I don't want to move. But Mo gets me in a seated position, my back against my couch. My heart slams in my chest, I feel like I've never drank a sip of water before in my life.

"You've got therapy in an hour. I've been trying to call you all morning." He rocks back on his heels and it takes all I have not to let myself fall to the floor again. "I see now that you were just passed out." He's mad at me. "What'd you do last night?"

I shrug my shoulders.

I only remember some of last night but enough to know I don't want to tell him. Shit, I'm not sure I even want to remember it all myself.

He lets out a frustrated breath about to open his mouth to yell at me but my stomach makes a wrong turn and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I slump over and empty it's contents on the floor.

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Mo took no mercy on me.

In fact I think I just pissed him off farther.

It started with whatever I did the night before and then to the fact that my door wasn't locked let alone shut all the way and then it shifted to my nasty apartment.

What I didn't tell him was that he should be happy I at least made it home. If he knew how messed up I was the night before he'd probably be relieved that I wound up here, passed out on the floor instead of literally anywhere else.

But I didn't tell him how messed up I was. Or the fact that I did heroin and was now suffering the consequences of a night of heavy use. Or about the people I was partying with.

"When we get back from therapy, you're cleaning the rest of this place." He barks at me washing his hands in the kitchen after cleaning up after me.

I haven't said much, curled up on the couch in pain. My eyes are glassed over as I take his disapproval, one statement and demand after another. I didn't realize it was possible for me to feel anymore broken but my mind won't stop replaying what I remember from last night, and I do.

"Go get in the shower and get dressed."

I'm a little afraid if I move I'll throw up again.

"I'm not telling you again Drew, get up." He's practically fuming, going so far as to come over to the couch to stare down at me.

I can't get myself to move. I feel like everything's piled on top of me, weighing down my limbs, squeezing all the life out of me and there isn't shit I can do to stop it.

But Mo doesn't care, wrenching me from the couch. I know I'm being a pain in the ass, I know he thinks I'm doing it all on purpose. But I'm not.

He half drags me as I stumble along to the bathroom where he holds me by my shirt thats fisted in his hand and turns the water on.

"Now I'm sorry you don't feel good." I don't actually find it funny, I can tell he's not really sorry, that he's more annoyed than anything and I'm just going to make it worse but I smirk anyway. "But I'm pretty sure you brought this on yourself."

And as soon as he sees my smirk, he purses his lips and tosses me, like I'm not over six foot and 200 lbs, straight into the shower fully clothed.

"Clean up." He grinds out, stomping from the bathroom a moment later.

I let my forehead fall against the shower wall, my heart thundering in my chest as I let the warm water pelt me.

I was really hoping last night was it. But somehow, my eyes keep opening every morning forcing me to continue on. Forcing me to live when I feel nothing. When I'm empty.

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This chapter and the next are shorter than the normal, should we double update?