Lacey

04

I knock, but there's no response. I knock again, and Micah finally looks over, sighing as he gets up to open the door. "Maya..." he starts, but I ignore him, heading inside and straight to the bar.

"I-I need whiskey," I stutter, my heart pounding, and my palms sweating.

"May, why are you in socks?" His concerned gaze intensifies as he surveys me. I forgot my shoes. The pity in his eyes deepens my panic, and tears flow uncontrollably.

"Why are you crying? What happened?" The people around us start to notice, and their curious stares add to my mounting anxiety. I briefly lock eyes with Killian but quickly avert my gaze, sniffling. I don't need another person hating me for being a mess.

"I need whiskey," I repeat, my voice trembling, desperate for some understanding.

"I can't serve you," he replies, and it feels like the ground beneath me has disappeared. My breathing becomes erratic, and I struggle to catch my breath.

"But-but I have money. I have a lot of it from tonight. I-I'll pay you double," I plead, pulling out the soggy cash from my back pocket, not caring about the mess it's become after my fall.

"Maya, I can't," he says, and it feels like my world is falling apart. My lungs constrict, and I can barely breathe.

"No-no, I need it," I insist, thrusting the money toward him, my hands trembling violently.

"Your hands are bleeding," he observes, and I glance down to find my hands cut up from the broken glass. They look disgusting, and it makes me feel sick. They must have been bleeding all the way here because it's smeared all over my palms and fingers from the steering wheel. Glass sticks out from a few spots. I hadn't even noticed. All I can do is look away and shake my head.

"It doesn't matter," I mumble, feeling helpless and defeated.

"Yes, it does. Come here," he gently guides me to a stool, making me sit down. Panic continues to grip me tightly as I try to calm down.

"Ian, where's the first aid?" he calls out, trying to help me. The noise around me seems to grow louder, and I feel overwhelmed.

"I'll get it," Ian replies from a distance.

"Micah, you need to give it to me. I'll give you all the tips I made tonight, I made over a thousand, I think," I plead, pulling out the soggy cash from my back pocket, not caring about the mess it had become after I fell.

"Maya," he cups my face in his hands, trying to bring my focus to him. "You need to calm down." But all I see is blurs. Blurs of colors and black spots fill my vision as I get increasingly dizzy.

"No, what I need is whiskey," I insisted, my voice breaking. His concern only makes my panic worsen.

"I can't lose this job, doll. I've got rent to pay, I'm sorry."

"Please." I whisper. My voice breaks, and it makes his face soften.

"Okay, let me see." Killian shows up from behind Micah. The latter moves out of the way while the giant steps forward.

"Please just leave it; I can do it myself later. Just let me have the whiskey, and I'll leave, and you guys can go back to your hangout," I plead, my vision slowly clearing, but the dizziness remains.