The Alpha King's Human

Seven | Mate...?

I head to the TV, which is a smart TV, and open up the browser. I search, 'how to takes shots of vodka,' and read the wikihow page that gives step-by-step instructions, with illustrations. You would expect that I'd be able to figure out how to take shots considering how my mom is, but she was on a whole nother level. She could chug vodka straight from the bottle like it was water.

Following the directions I grab the bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge for the chase. I fill a glass with the juice and take a small sip, holding it in my mouth before I swallow it quickly along with the shot, drinking some more juice to chase it immediately afterwards.

That was so much better. It still burned and tasted disgusting, but less then before, it was now bearable.

At his point I can feel the vodka slowly effecting me. It's like a fuzzy warmth is spreading from my stomach. I continue to take a few more shots. I had to sit down on the bar stool so I wouldn't wobble, and accidentally fall on my ass. Finding the seat uncomfortable, I grab the bottle of vodka, the bottle of cranberry juice, the glasses I'm using, and head over to the living area. I set the items on the glass coffee table, and plop myself down on the comfy couch.

At his point everything is moving, even though I'm sitting still. I let out a small laugh because I realized that everything isn't moving, I'm the one that's swaying back and fourth. While laughing I grab the remote on the coffee table, failing at the first attempt.

I open up YouTube and type in Bishop Briggs very slowly, having to focus all my attention on the task. I haven't listened to my favorite music since the day the crazy, psychopathic, jackass, abducted my little ass. Right now all I wanted to do was listen to my music while taking more shots, never wanting to stop feeling like this. I can, for the first time ever, actually understand why my mom drank and stayed high all the time. This shit feels amazing. Even if my thoughts drift off to the dark and twisted things in my mind, I easily get distracted by absolutely nothing. My attention span is the same as the span of a goldfishes memory.

I took a few more shots, I don't know exactly how many I've taken but I know it's been more then ten, since that when I stopped counting. I'm feeling amazing. I play Wild Horses by Bishop Briggs and get up, wanting to dance. The moment I'm on my feet I decide against that because I got a sudden head rush and was seeing things in double, so I decided to sit again.

Taking another shot I started singing/slur along to the song. Let me just say, I can't sing if I had to, to save my life. Guy would be like sing, I'd sing, then bam, he'd shoot me to stop the awful sounds coming from my mouth. Now just imagine a person who can't sing in general, singing while their lit af.

"You hold me down in the best way

No quarter from these chains that I've

Slept on my heart for a feeling

Why can't I let my demons out?

Keep screaming into the pillow

Cause your taste still gets me stupid high

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh glory, I'mma try, but

Wild horses, wild horses

Wild horses run faster, run faster

Run faster"

I take a break to drown another shot, not wanting to risk coming down from the level of intoxication I'm at, instead wanting to increase it further. I crave the bliss and pure joy it brings me, feelings I haven't felt in years, even before I was kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath.

"You call my truth in the worst way

Through the dirty lands of a broken smile

And I swear I'm not a pretender

Sometimes it's love who's the biggest liar

So, I keep on damning the devil

And you keep on saying it's alright

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh Lord, I'm holding tight, but

Wild horses, wild horses

Wild horses run faster, run faster

Run faster

Wild horses run faster, run faster

Run faster

So, I keep on damning the devil

And you keep on saying it's alright

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh Lord, I'm holding tight..."

While singing in my state of inebriation, I failed to notice someone had come inside the apartment.

"Well, it looks like you sure make yourself at home like it told you to," James said to me as he paused the music. He gave me a smile while chuckling. He then turned serious, "but you really shouldn't be drinking on your meds," he said looking towards the bottle of vodka. He then glanced behind me for a moment, causing fear to flash across his face, but I'm to drunk to notice.

"I wanted to make the *hic* the bad thoughts and memories go away, so I drank. I've never drank *hic* before, I never knew I was missing out on... on... such amazingness *hic*," I exclaimed by spreading my arms wide, almost falling on my face off the sofa. Luckily James catches me, helping holding me up while I sit on the couch. "I feel like I'm.. I'm floating on a fuckin cloud *hic*, and I don't want to come down, nope, no way. Imma build a, *hic* a nice ass castle up here, and no one, I repeat, NO ONE, will be able to hurt me there," I said slurring and hiccupping. I finished with what I hope is a proud and confident face with my arms crosses.

Grrr.

I whip my head around at the sound a low growl, almost toppling over as James suddenly released me, but I catch myself by putting my hands flat against the soda cushions. The growl sent a shiver down my spin, unsure if it was from pleasure or fear yet.

I look up, seeing every thing in multiples that are constantly moving. My eyes lock onto a pair of sharp, piercing, blue eyes. I let out a audible gasp as everything stops moving and disappears until all I can see are those magnificent, captivating eyes. I felt as though they called to me, drawing me in. As I looked on hopelessly lost in his eyes, it seemed as though swirls of a vibrant green were trying to take over the light piercing blue. I thought that I would never be able to look away, that I never wanted to look away. Then he spoke, well, more like growled out, one word, breaking me out of my trance and returning me back to my extremely intoxicated state where I couldn't even focus my eyes on a specific target.

"Mate."

"Mate...?" I asked confused, unsure what he was saying. "Bro are you British? Referring to people as mate and all," I ask chuckling, too drunk to realize he didn't have an accent.