Book #2 in the "Drug-Laced" series
After the "murder" of his best friend, Harrison is sent to a mental facility but doesn't last long inside after discovering his trace wasn't exactly clean, and Tom is still very much alive. With the certainty Tom w...
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Zendaya
After receiving the information that Tom was okay to go home, Tom and I began fixing to leave. He had given me the key to his home to retrieve some clothing for him to wear when he left. We exchanged a few words with the doctor about Tom's health before we left, Tom still seeming a bit shaken up.
I drove us home, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other full of Tom's trembling hand. I kept my eyes focused on the road, but I could feel his eyes glued to me. The entire ride, his puppy eyes stayed embedded into the side of my face. I don't know why I couldn't look back at him. I couldn't shake the feeling that something could be wrong with him. Something didn't seem right about that doctor.
When we arrived, I opened the car door, stepping out right away, but Tom didn't follow. I peaked back down in the car to see he didn't even shift in his seat; he just stared at the dashboard blankly for a moment before he realized I had been staring at him as well.
"Sorry, just lost in thought, I guess," he quickly cleaned up his weird gaze, stepping out of the car right after. I raised an eyebrow subtly, but I chose not to address it further, entering the house with Tom following close behind.
Tom
Inside the house, the air suddenly felt cold and stale. Not physically, but the general feeling was just... Saddening. It wasn't hard to figure out either. My eyes dashed around the living room while we entered, immediately spotting empty alcohol bottles; various brands. Empty coffee mugs and glass cups sat sprawled along the small coffee table, some being empty and others having a little taste of liquid left. It was difficult to make out what had once occupied them, although.
"Did the maid go on vacation?" I joked as a way to both fill the silence and break the chilling feeling in the room. Zendaya turned to me, stuck between a smile and a glare, before shaking her head.
"Haven't had the time to clean," she simply responded, making her way up the stairs. I stayed glued to her heels as if separating from her just an inch would kill me.
The last time I really remembered going up these stairs wasn't the best possible memory; it wasn't a memory I wanted to keep either. I remember casting my eyes on Zendaya's near-lifeless body and rushing her back to my place. I still never truly understood that whole situation, but I figured bringing it up would only open up painful wounds all over again.
We reached her room and it was just how I remembered; messy. I guess it was better finding piles of dirty laundry and water bottles then bags of drugs. Either way, I could use some cleaning.
"Make yourself comfortable," she says sweetly, finally turning to me and actually looking me in the eyes for the first time since we entered the house; since we left the hospital.
"Are you hungry? Or thirsty? If you say no, I'm still going to get you something to eat anyways," she adds, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg.
"I guess I am a little hungry," I shrugged; I wasn't.
Zendaya only returned a short nod, turning to exit the room while lightly tugging the door behind her; it only clicked against the door frame before lurking back open. Left alone in the room, I looked around slowly, scanning the room though I hadn't been looking for anything specific.
I plopped down on the bed, attempting to let myself get comfortable, but I couldn't help but feel and hear plastic rattle and crack under my thigh, The sound caused me to immediately jump back up to my feet, whirling around to the bed and squinting down at the bedsheets. I glanced back at the door, checking for Zendaya's presence, then turning back to the bed. I grabbed the sheets with my fingertips gently, lifting it slowly. My eyes immediately caught a small plastic baggie. It was empty, but I could make out some small, white particles leftover in the bag; cocaine.
My investigation was interrupted as I could hear the door slide open again and I turned around to see none other than Zendaya, her eyes stuck on me as if she had just seen a ghost.
"What are you doing?" She asked almost the second she caught me.
"What's this?" I asked, holding the empty bag in the air so she could see it.
The room grew silent and I could hear her gulp before quickly looking down, setting the glass of water and thin sandwich down on the dresser beside her. Her eyes finally met mine again and it was then that I noticed I let the arm holding the bag rest to my side.
"I thought you were dead," she blurted dryly, her eyes becoming glassy, "I thought I had lost another piece of something that made me happy."
She broke eye contact with me, her eyes hitting the floor, "I didn't know whether I wanted to kill Harrison or myself."
