The Rent Boy (EDITING)

Chapter Thirty-Three: Getting Out-

    My vision had gotten foggy, and my balance was a little off, sure, but I definitely wasn't anywhere near as drunk as I needed to be. The thoughts were still forming inside my mind, I just wasn't escaping them. I was desperate to, though, and I'd go as far as it'd take just to get a moment of silence from them. 

    So I got another round of shots in and downed them subsequently, one after the other without sparing much more than a second between them. I chased them down with a bottle of Jack Daniels, since I was pretty much going all out on a ticket to drunkville. 

    Next thing I knew, I was being served by two bartenders that looked the same and there was a murmuring in my ear from a voice I wasn't familiar with. I leaned back against a warm body, whose hands were holding me up at the hips, and swaying me back and forth to the faint thumping of music in the background. 

    Something, somewhere inside me, knew that I needed to stop what I was doing and go. But that was only a tiny little voice trying to be heard in the midst of the shouting, that was telling me to just fuck everything. Fuck the world. Fuck what was right. Cause nothing mattered anymore. 

     I could feel a small smile on my face as the person I was leaning against, started pulling me backwards. My feet were shuffling in small steps, tripping over themselves, the only reason I was still standing was because I was being held up. The hands that were on my hips, had shifted a little further up, to my waist. 

    I wasn't in the least bit happy. The smile was misleading. But I let myself believe I was, let myself get deceived by the alcohol that was now swishing about inside me, running through my bloodstream. I allowed myself to get pushed up against a wall by a complete stranger, without even a second thought of pushing them away. 

    I hadn't even spared the person a glance. I didn't know what they looked like, if they were male or female, hell I didn't even care. All I was focused on was getting that moment of silence, escaping from the thoughts of Logan - I winced every time his name found it's way back inside my mind. I couldn't keep it away for long. 

    I felt lips on my skin, couldn't exactly pin-point where, but I knew it was somewhere around my shoulders, or neck. My head fell back against the concrete wall I was up against, and I briefly caught the sight of swaying people filling up the space of the bar, before my eyes rolled back and my eyelids slid shut.

    Then I heard a voice. It was like all the other noises in the bar dimmed down, and there was just this voice calling out to me. Saying my name over and over. It was quiet at first, mellow, but then it slowly built up. It built up and built up until it sounded like it was being screamed down my ear. The volume of it had my eyes flying open, startled. 

    "Ash, what th' hell's goin' on 'ere?" My eyes sluggishly travelled to my left, trying to focus on the fuzzy figure that was calling me out specifically and asking me a question. I mumbled something, a wave of words that didn't even try to form anything coherent.

    There wasn't any lips on my skin anymore, instead it felt more like there was eyes there. All over. Loads and loads of eyes staring at me, watching me, judging me. I hated it. It made me feel so small and wrong. 

    "Stop it," I mumbled, to the eyes. I wanted them off, I wanted them to stop looking at me and making me feel that way. It was like I was surrounded by a circle of people just watching me. I visioned them sneering and curling their lips up at the sight. 

    "Ash," the voice was back, trying to catch my attention. The back of my head rolled against the wall again, turning to my left. This time I took in the dark hair of a fringe that shadowed his eyes, falling across his forehead. "Ash, come on, you need t' go 'ome."