1. Merinthophobia

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♡Chapter dedicated to ChrissyMReau81

"And soon we'll be learning and the lesson today is how to die." The Boomtown Rats.

Noah had never felt so ill in his life

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Noah had never felt so ill in his life.

His head ached, pounding and throbbing in a deep tempo that reminded him of the bassline that had thrummed through the club last night. His throat felt like sandpaper, each time he swallowed was more difficult than the last. His stomach churned and sloshed, the nausea almost overwhelming all his other senses. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to subject them to any form of brightness. His bed felt oddly uncomfortable; his body too sore to move.

Fuck, how much did I drink last night?

Hazy memories floated like fog through his brain as he tried to grasp any of them to make sense of the hangover that was currently raging through his body.

He vaguely remembered his girlfriend, Kayla, complaining that she wanted to go home, that it was past two in the morning, that she had had too much to drink and was sick of wearing her high heels.

He also recalled her brother, Ryder, attempting to hail them a taxi and narrowly avoiding stepping in someone else's stomach contents that littered the pavement, the red tip of his cigarette glowing in the dim light.

He clearly remembered the liquid brown eyes that he was powerless to, and the rough kiss in the bathroom. A secret contained by the four walls of the toilet stall. A small smile tugged the corners of his lips at the thought, quickly chased away by guilt.

But what was the last thing he remembered?

He was sure he had climbed into the taxi, but after that, everything was blank, like a light switch had gone off in his head. It was time to be a big boy and face his hangover head-on. He should probably call Kayla anyway, to make sure she got home okay last night, as if that would make him feel better for cheating on her.

Noah opened his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn't.

Instead of the familiar coffee-colored walls of his room, and his cream duvet, he was confronted with a harsh grey broken only by the fluorescent light that hung overhead.

What the fuck?

Glancing down, he realized that he was not in his bed at all, but a wooden chair. The arms were rough from age, tie down straps with a heavy brass buckle held his wrists and ankles in place. He tugged at the restraints, but the leather bit into his skin and sent the swirling in his stomach into a frenzy. He leaned over the side of the chair and dry heaved, not entirely surprised when nothing came out. The disgusting taste of bile clung to his mouth.

What did shock him though, was the image to his left, where Kayla was also tied to a chair. Her head was forward on her chest, blonde hair covering her face. She was still wearing her gold sequined dress from the club, although now her feet were bare. She had finally gotten the high heels off, but at what price?

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