turnpike

xi

✗ ✗ ✗

I don't realize how drunk I am until he lays me down.

It's like the whole world has tilted on its axis, forcing me down with it until all I can feel is the steady revolving. I close my eyes, willing everything to stop—just stop—but no matter how tightly I squeeze them, everything continues to spin and spin and spin.

"I can't do this anymore," I hear myself whisper as he brushes a hand over my hair, pushing the wayward strands off of my face. The pillow is soft under my cheek, but it's steadily growing damp from the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. "I can't. Please."

His lips ghost over mine like he's trying to breathe in my words, and I know that as soon as he exhales they'll be gone forever, my protests disappearing into thin air like they always do.

"You don't know what you're saying," he murmurs against my mouth, kissing me once, then twice, then again, but I don't kiss him back. "Sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning."

This isn't something I can just sleep off. This isn't something I can shake or throw or simply do away with. He makes it sound so easy, like forgiving and forgetting are the most effortless things. But how can I forgive him for pulling me into this? How can I forget that he's made me lose everything?

"I mean it," I say firmly, determined to keep the slur out of my voice, but oh God, I'm tired, so tired. "I don't want to do this anymore."

He pulls the blankets up to my shoulders, tucking me into bed like a father with his sick child, like all of this will pass once the sun rises. The fever will break and all will be well again, but I fear I'll never find the cure for this sickness.

"I'm done."

I hear him chuckle softly, a hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You'll never be done, baby. Not with me." He presses his lips to my forehead in a gentle goodnight kiss. "Go to sleep."

I curl into myself as he slides off the bed, still praying for all of this to cease. I know I should get up, just leave, just be finished with it all, but my body refuses to listen. His bed is soft and inviting, and the room is cool and dark. I can hear the shouts and laughter from the partygoers outside the doors, but in here the sound is dulled like soothing white noise. If I just keep my eyes shut I could just drift off, let the steady spinning take me away with it...

But I open them.

It's a struggle. I want to give in to the darkness and forget for just a little while, but I make myself watch as he walks towards the bedroom door. It's cracked slightly, letting in light from the hallway, but soon it's swinging inwards and a boy shaped shadow looms into the room.

"What the fuck is going on?" someone hisses, and it takes me a moment to put a name to the backlit face. Even still, I'd know that halo of blond hair anywhere. "I just saw Callie rush out of here in tears, screaming about how she never should have trusted that bitch. If Callie's referring to—"

But the boy with his back to me cuts him off. "I'm handling it, Adam."

He moves to shoulder past his vice president, but Adam's pushing him back into the room. "Fuck, dude. Is she in here?"

"Keep your voice down, she's asleep," he snaps, sparing a glance over his shoulder at me, but I know it's too dark for him to see anything more than the outline of my body under the sheets. As if to be safe, he grabs Adam by the upper arm and drags him into the ensuite bathroom, but the door doesn't close all the way behind them. I can still hear every word they say. "Why do you even care anyway?"

"I care because your stupid mistakes have cost us more than you could ever imagine. I'm not about to let you make any more."

Although I can't see him, I know he's rolling his eyes, a signature move of his when he's fed up with things. "How has it cost you anything? Are you the one who paid her off? Are you the one who made sure the video that pledge had never saw the light of day?"