Chasing Innocence | ✓

36 | suprised reactions

As soon as I wake, sweat dripping down my neck, I know I'll barely make it to the bathroom in time.

Leaning over the bowl, my stomach constricts, emptying the little amount of food I'd had all day. I'm breathing hard, trying to calm myself as I wipe my mouth. I reach up to flush the toilet, feeling so utterly weak.

I gasp, standing up and standing over the sink. I meet my eyes in the mirror, staring back at the blood coated all across my face. The large gash on my forearm, the sleeve cut open on my favourite blouse.

It's not real.

I blink and I'm clean. No gash, no cuts. My hair sticks to my head from sweat and my eyes are hollow. No blood, though.

I wash out my mouth with water, slapping some on my face. I wash away the sweat before tying my hair back in a messy bun.

I reach under the basin, removing my toiletry bag. The pills rest on top, a white bottle with scribbled writing covering it. I grab the bottle, taking them with me to the kitchen.

It can't be later than midnight. I don't even remember falling asleep on the couch. Sof had told me I could take the mattress in her room again, but I didn't want to intrude on her space.

I reach for a glass, filling it with water as I take out two of the pills.

"What are you doing?"

Instinctively, I grab the two pills, placing them in my mouth as I swallow them down with gulps of water. I don't think to cover the bottle.

Brax steps up beside me, grabbing the bottle before I can stop him. He reads the label, his knuckles whitening as he places them down on the sink harshly.

"What is this?"

"It's what I was prescribed," I lie. "For the nightmares."

"Bullshit," he snaps, unscrewing the lid. I reach out to grab them, but he keeps them out of arms reach. "You got these from Marco. Are you insane?"

Gone is the man that had spoken to me like a normal human being on the steps outside work early tonight. My heart doesn't even sink. I'd expected this all along.

"It's just Xanax, alright? I know what I'm doing," I huff, reaching out for the bottle. "Can I just have them back?"

"So you just trust that that's what is in the bottle?" he seethes. "What is wrong with you?"

I laugh, gripping the sink. "Gee, I don't know, Brax. Maybe I'd just like to sleep again for once."

He holds the bottle close to me, shaking it in his hand. "I've seen what shit like this can do to a person. You become dependant."

I grab for the bottle again, but it knocks from Brax's hand. They scatter around in the sink, some going down the drain. I go to grab them but Brax pulls me away. He holds my arms as I shove at his chest.

"Why do you even care, huh?" I glare.

"You don't always have to get along with someone to want to... never mind," he lets go of me, striding towards the sink as he slams the tap on. I watch as I lose sight of all the pills.

"You're an asshole," I croak. "Do you like torturing me? Hating me?"

He rakes a hand through his hair, his goddamn jaw ticking like he has the right to be mad at me. "You'll thank me one day."

"I highly doubt that," I deadpan. "You just completely overreacted."

I begin to walk off but Brax grips my wrist. I turn to him, pulling away from his hold. "When did I ever say I hated you?"

"Oh? You don't?" I retort sarcastically. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe because hate it all you have in your heart."

Even as I say the words, I don't feel that I believe them. Not entirely. I've seen the way he is with Casey. It's the first time that I ever began to see that maybe there was more to him than I'd let myself believe.

I begin to walk off again but his words stop me this time. "Maybe if you weren't so goddamn scared to face shit, then you wouldn't have to rely on pills to get you through the night."

It leaves a sting nearly as bad as Beckett's comments from tonight.

"Fuck you," I spit, whirling around on him. Tears prick the corners of my eyes and a feel a lump forming in my throat. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You've made damn sure of that, haven't you?" he whispers, stoic.

"This again? I think you know enough," I state. "You've targeted me at my weakest before, asking me—"

"That's such shit!" he exclaims, his hand held out in front of him. It's the most emotion I've ever seen him show and it startles me. "I never made you admit anything you didn't want to tell."

"Well, I'm sorry we aren't all as open as you. That we aren't all emotionless when it comes to the fucked up stories of our lives!"

I can feel the fog beginning to calm my brain. I blink twice, feeling so utterly tired. "You let your mother do what she wants. She's the drug addict, Brax. Not me."

I walk back to the couch slowly. Falling into it is the relief I've needed all night.

"My mother isn't a twenty-year-old with dreams and fucking aspirations."

He's in front of me now and I wonder why he's choosing tonight to be so relentless. Why hasn't he stormed back to his room? Why is he so worked up about this?

"So she's a lost cause?" I murmur, leaning back against the couch as I watch him through droopy eyes. "She's not worth the fight?"

"There's a difference between giving up and knowing you've given it your all," he whispers, his voice tight. "You've known her for months. I've been here for twenty one fucking years. Don't tell me how to help my own goddamn mother."

"I don't know what is is you want from me anymore," I whisper. "But just— please, I'm too tired for this right now."

His expression flickers, like he wants to say more. Instead he mutters something incoherent under his breath and leaves me alone as my eyelids flutter shut.