GHOST OF YOU | BWS

five.

I am forced out of my deep sleep by the throbbing pain in my head. It feels like my brain has been thrown into a Vitamix on full speed. Please make it stop. As consciousness starts to take over my body, I begin to feel the numbness in my limbs and the extreme dryness in my mouth. I wince at the intense discomfort I am in, wondering what's happening to me. I struggle to open my eyes, but when I finally do, I realize I'm not home. My heart freezes as I try to swallow the dust in my mouth. Where has my saliva gone? My lips are literally glued together and it takes me a few seconds to succeed at ungluing them. I'm gonna need more than chapstick to fix this. I gather all my strength and sit up on the bed, looking around me, trying to remember what happened last night and find out where I am. I have no clue whose bedroom I am in. The memories from the night before finally start to flood my mind in one big wave. The bar. Isaac and his gang. Drugs. Fuck. My first reflex is to check what I'm wearing, paralyzed at the thought of what one of the guys might have done to me while I was passed out. And just as I let out a sigh of relief as I notice I am fully dressed in yesterday's clothes, the door suddenly opens, and the guy with brown curly hair enters, holding a glass of water in his hand. Brad, I think his name is. I look at him, lost and in silence as literally nothing comes to my mind, not able to detach my eyes from him. He looks taller now that he's standing only a couple of meters away from me and a lot more buff than I remember from yesterday. What the hell happened after I blacked out? When I finally get out of my staring trans, I try to speak but nothing comes out of my lips. My mouth is simply too dry to even speak.

"Here", he says, looking tense as he walks closer to the bed and hands me the glass. "You're gonna need a lot of this". I stare at him again, silently, my eyes switching from his eyes to the glass in between his fingers. I notice the ink on his hands and the rings he wears on multiple fingers. "Go on, it's not poisoned", he adds in the same cold voice, that same tense look on his face, clearly noticing my hesitation. The state of dehydration I am in forces me to take the glass from his hands and I drink it all in one big gulp, gasping for more as I bring the glass down. I have never felt so dehydrated in my entire life. I feel like all liquid has been sucked out of my body. "Better?", he asks me and I nod, my eyes still focused on him. No matter how hard I try to get them off him, I simply can't.

"Wh-What happened last night?" I ask, hesitant. Do I really want to know?

"You had a bad trip and blacked out", he says before grabbing the glass from my hands and leaving the room. I hear the sound of water running and he comes back into the bedroom and hands me the freshly filled glass. I take it without hesitation this time and drink it all again. It feels like no amount of water can satisfy my thirst. "I didn't know where to take you, so I brought you back to my place", he says before leaning against his window, facing me. My eyes wander along his body, from his messy hair that makes me think he just woke up as well, to the black tee-shirt that puts his tattooed arms on display and down to the pair of sweatpants that falls loosely on his hips, his white Calvins peeking out just under his V-line. I quickly bring my eyes back up when I realize I'm staring again.

"It wasn't coke, was it?" I say more like a statement than a question, knowing what the answer is. Fucking assholes. Brad doesn't answer, too busy staring at me. He looks so focused as his eyes scan every inch of my face, and I wonder again if he made the connection with Charlie. But I doubt it; he would have said something yesterday.

"You've gotta stop whatever you think you're doing", he says, sounding like an order, making me wonder if I heard correctly. "It's not gonna end well for you". I glare at him, stunned by how forward he is. It's like he has no filter. The look on his face remains tense and serious as his eyes don't move from mine. "My friends" he continues and I can hear the subtile sarcasm in his voice at the word 'friends'. "They're not good people", he adds before correcting himself. "We're not good people". I don't answer as it takes me some time to assimilate what he is saying. "You don't want to get involved with us. Whatever your reasons are, they're not worth risking your life."

"Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?" I ask, starting to get pissed by the way he's talking to me. I try to get off the bed, but as soon as I stand up, my legs give up and I fall back on the mattress. Brad doesn't move from the window, the same intense look on his face. Why does he even care what I do with my life? He didn't know me 24 hours ago.

"Look at you, you've got a future ahead of you, don't screw everything up for the fantasy you have of this life", he says, not breaking eye contact. "Go back to your princess life before you get stained". I am literally on my ass, not believing what I'm hearing.

"What the hell? You know nothing about me!" I yell at him as I try to stand up again. This time I manage to get up, my legs wobbling under my weight, but I don't fall. "Who the fuck do you think you are? I do whatever I want with my life". I can't believe the way he's talking to me like I'm a little girl who doesn't know what she is doing.

"This is not fucking TV, it's real life", he answers with the same patronizing tone that makes me want to punch him in the face. "You think you know what you're getting yourself into? You have no fucking clue what this world is like", he continues as he detaches himself from the window and takes a step forward to come closer to me, making me take a step back and fall back on the bed. Wow, Joy, you're doing a great job at acting like he's not scaring the shit out of you right now. I lift my head up to be able to look at him in the eyes now that I am back to sitting on his bed and he looks ten times more intimidating from this angle. I don't know if it's the darkness in his eyes or the way his jaw is clenched but he looks a lot more threatening now and I start to realize I should probably try not to upset him too much if I don't want to leave this room in a coroner body bag. "The street's gonna break you", he adds and my thoughts instantly go to Charlie. The street did break him. How did I not see how different he was lately? How did I not figure something was not right, that he wasn't himself? I could have helped him. I could have saved him.

"I don't care", I say, not breaking eye contact. He scoffs, apparently not taking me seriously whatsoever and I wonder why he's even trying to make me give up on the idea of getting into his 'stream of business'. Is he worried about competition? 

"You're so fucking naive. You won't last two days with those guys", he says, making me clench my fists. I hate the way he talks to me. I am not a fucking kid.

"Fuck you", I say as I get up, not caring if I'm now standing only a few inches away from him. The way he's looking at me gives me chills but I try to ignore it. "You don't know anything about me, or what I'm capable of. And why do you even care what I do with my life? Dealing seems good enough for you, so why wouldn't it be for me?", I add and don't wait for an answer before making my way out of his bedroom. Despite having no idea where I am, I somehow manage to find the front door of his rather small apartment and run down three stories to get out of his building. I reach the street, panting and look around. Once again, I have no clue where I am and because I had the brilliant idea to not bring anything but the key to my place with me last night, I have no way of checking how to get home. Fuck. My hands reach for the back pocket of my jeans where I had left my key yesterday and I let out a sigh of relief when I feel it there. At least I am not homeless. It takes me over two hours and a half to finally arrive home and I crash in my bed, exhausted and sick from the line of whatever I had at the bar. My life is seriously fucked up. And it's all because of Reggie. Him that I didn't get to meet last night. But I will get to him, sooner or later. And when that day comes, he won't see what's coming for him.