𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟿

KANE

GRUMBLING UNDER MY BREATHE, I blindly shove past them, eyelids covering half my sight, legs walking limply and body feeling sloppy.

The music is loud. So loud. The lights are so bright and just flashy i have to bring up a shaky hand and cover my eyes. That doesn't help my position cause I nearly fall over.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ear. It's as if it's right next to my ears. So loud and loud. Coughing into my fist, i flop onto the vacant sofa seat and man spread my legs, arm falling over my eyes and body shifting down so my head comfortably leans on the sofa head.

My breathe comes out in small pants, bright specs of light under my closed lids. I open my eyes, it's too bright. I close my eyes, it's still fucking bright.

Everything sounds so distorted. So fake. That's how it's been this week. Everything is hazy and blurry, forgotten the next day. Snorting at my thoughts, I dig my index finger into the hole that's on the arm rest.

"Kane?"

Clenching my jaw, I remove my arm to see a boy stood near me, an eyebrow raised in question, head tilted slightly as he scans my appearance.

"What."

"You ask for these?" He slyly shows a small baggy filled with white pills, white powder dusting the bag. I look up to meet his indigo eyes, nodding once and already digging into my pockets to pay him.

"Yes." I grunt out, slapping a fifty pound note into his hand and yanking the baggie from him. Indigo eyes just snorts, rolling his eyes at me and walking away without another word.

I hold the bag tightly in my palm, eyes for some reason on him. I have no reason to be looking at him, but I am.

The boy stuffs the money into his back Jean pocket, eyes searching around the room before a loud holler leaves his mouth.

"Jamie!" He grins, arm flaring up, "My man! How ya doin'!?"

I look away after that, body already rising from the comfortable sofa seat. Keeping my eyes on my feet, making sure I don't trip over and for some reason my head feels way too heavy to lift, I make my way upstairs.

This guy is rich as fuck. Always partying so I helped myself and attend all of them. It's fun. The noise, booze and people are a good distraction. It's also a easy place to get some good shit.

Shoving my shoulder into the door, I stumble into the room and shut the door behind me. Sitting at the foot of the bed, I cradle my head in my hands.

I stink. I haven't had a shower in days. I've hardly drank anything except alcohol. My body feels as if it's giving up. My phone's broken and I've wasted half my money on drugs.

Now, the last part I honestly don't regret. I need them. They're the only thing helping me right now. I need them.

I lost my jacket, it wasn't special or something but I still lost it. That leaves me in a black tee and black ripped jeans which look worn out. I look as bad as I feel. I've been told and I see it.

Even knowing how bad a state I'm in, I still don't wanna go home. I know I should, the sane part of me screams at me, "Go fucking home." But I ignore it.

I don't want Belle to see me like this. I don't want anyone to see me like this. They won't understand.

Running a hand down my face in frustration, i huff through my nose, pinching the bag open and throwing two pills into my awaiting, clammy palm.

Throwing the remainder onto the bed, i walk into the connecting door, chucking my head back while simultaneously throwing the pills into my mouth. Shoving my face under the faucet, I open the tap and gulp a mouthful of water, quickly swallowing the pills, moving my face to test the muscles in my face.

I can still feel them. They're numbing though. I can feel it coming. Good. Washing my face with water, i groan in annoyance when I don't see a towel anywhere in sight.

"For fuck sake!"

Slamming my hand on the sink, my hands curl around the edges, my nails attempting to sink into the cold tiles, arms shaking. I'm shaking as if I'm cold.

I'm not cold though. I'm hot. So hot.

Pulling my shirt over my head, I scan my reflection in the mirror. The bruises have nearly faded, only leaving a yellowish colour in its wake. My face is still bad.

There's a dark, purple ring around my eye, lip looking as I've gotten plastic surgery and then accidentally cut it or something, the bridge of my nose a mouldy, green shade and fat.

Half my face is swollen while the rest feels swollen. Feels cold. Like I don't have a face? Pinching my cheeks with my fingers, I pull my tan skin in every direction, looking stupid as fuck as I do so but that doesn't stop me from slapping my hands onto my cheeks, smiling widely at the lack of feel.

It's hitting.

The high slaps me right in the face, almost has me collapsing. Nearly tripping over my discarded shirt, I stumble over air and into the bed, flopping face first, legs wide apart and arms flared above, feeling heavy, as if a magnet is pulling them apart.

It's hot. My skin feels wet and sticky. Sweat drips down my thighs and legs, the material of my jeans sticking to my skin.

Blinking my eyes, a lazy smile covers my face at the blinking lights that flash in my eyes. Cool. Shoving my face into the soft duvet, i nearly purr in delight. So, so comfy.

My shoes scratch against each other, a pathetic attempt to taking them off without my hands. Only one falls off, landing to the floor with a soft thump.

Groaning, i roll onto my back, dazedly staring at the ceiling, stomach grumbling, throat feeling scratchy, mouth feeling dry, licking my lips.

I feel thirsty. Hungry. Too tired to get up though. It's a nice feeling. The fuzzy, tingling feeling that swarms my body is nice. Very welcoming.

The morning after I remember to be pretty bad though but it's worth it. I think? Nah, it's worth it.

It's just me and me.

Something that's always destined to happen to me. Me suffering alone. On my own, no one beside me. No one holding me.

Me, myself and i.

Nice one, dad.