❝ The end of life begins when you
drain one from another ❞
Michaela Reid was raised in a household that would be considered anything but normal. From the time her fine motor skills developed, she was taught how to properly grip a dagger and a woode...
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I slide the glass of orange juice over to the other side of the table. Alex sits with his head in his hands, rubbing his temples aggressively. I lightly grin at him, watching as he takes the glass and tips the contents down his throat.
"I've never felt this sick before," He groans.
"Hangovers aren't usually great," I dead-pan, internally hating the fact that I have to lie to him. But, if he doesn't remember anything leading up to him waking up in my bed, I should keep it that way. It's better for him if he doesn't know. Especially considering he saw how Thomas moved and I didn't exactly want to explain to him how Thomas could disappear like that as well as get a knife through the hand and not have the scar to prove it.
"That's just it. I've never felt a hangover like this before and I've had a lot of them," He replies, refilling his glass to the brim with orange juice.
"Well, you drank enough that you lost a whole day, that's gotta pack a punch," I throw off.
"Yeah but... I don't know. Something just feels... off," He ponders, taking small sips from his glass. I swallow, diverting my eyes down to the table in front of me and mentally tracing the wooden lines. "You don't think I was roofied do you?"
"What?" I almost gasp, jolting my head up to eye my best friend once more. "I doubt it but, maybe you should avoid Yasmin Ward's parties for a while, just to be safe,"
"Maybe you're right," He signs, dropping his chin into his open palm. "How the fuck did I end up in the woods, though?"
I stifle a laugh, noting the small smile on his face as if he's finding the humour in even the most confusing and scary situations. "You always run off when you're drunk, Alex. Maybe the roofies gave you super speed,"
The second I mention super speed, his eyebrows furrow and his gaze drops below, as if the words trigger a memory so close to his tongue he can taste it. "Y'know I do remember one person,"
