When Lily's university financial scholarship is revoked she explores a new avenue for income.
A mutual friend introduces her to a darker underbelly line of work with a handsomely dangerous boss, mysteriously named Seven.
Lily's world, with the hel...
It's been four months but it feels like a fucking eternity. An eternal misery that is my life.
It's painful, it really is. My chest feels like someone is constantly standing on it and no matter what I do, no matter how many drinks I down, no matter how much coke I shove into my nose, every day that weight continues to grow. It's going to kill me one day, I just know it.
I've thought about beating it to the punch and just ending shit myself, but no matter how many times I purposely take too many drugs I still somehow manage to wake up. I'm too much of a coward to try it any other way. I've held my pistol to my head so many times now but I've been too pussy to pull the trigger. Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually already dead and this is what my hell is. Being unable to escape the feelings I created or deal with the actions I made.
I feel cold as I squint my eyes open. My head hurts, but it always does these days. When my foggy mind finally pieces together my surroundings and what I did last night. I realise I'm in the bathtub. My clothes are damp and I groan remembering yet another failed attempt to snort myself into oblivion.
"For fuck sakes." Not again, how the fuck do I keep surviving this shit. I sit up in the tub, my head slightly spinning but it wears off quickly. It takes me a moment but I eventually get the strength to lift myself out, draw back the shower curtain and leave the bathroom.
"Who put me in the fucking tub." I grouch, peeling my dam shirt off of my body and dropping it to the floor.
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"I did." Curby pokes his head from around the corner of the kitchen. I take it he's cooking something.
"Why?" My wet jeans are next. I pull them down my legs and kick them to the side with my shirt, leaving me in my boxers.
"Why do you think Sev?" He answers rhetorically.
Yeah, okay this hasn't been the first time I've woken up wet in the bathtub these last few months. But still, I hate it. Every time I'm ready to unalive myself one of these fuckers intervenes.
"You're pushing it mate." Grim warns when I sit down next to him at the table. A large coffee mug in one hand, the television remote in the other as he surfs the local news channels.
"Pushing what exactly?" I ask, grabbing my tin.
"Your fucking limits kid. Don't you think you've had enough? You almost died last night." Grim frowns at me as I tip out some powder on the table. That's the whole point Grim, I want to say but instead I grab a knife and start dividing up lines.
"It's not the first time." I remark. It's become routine for when I take too much someone will throw me in the tub and soak me down. I'll keep doing it though, till they eventually give up on me like I have.
"Won't be the last." I conclude.
"Your father would be so disappointed in how you're acting." Grim has the nerve to say and I stop my actions to glower over the table at him. What the fuck did he just say?
