My Little Dove

Chapter 16: Cole

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE ENTIRETY OF THIS CHAPTER, READ WITH CAUTION*

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6 months ago: yn and Cole at a random house party

"yn! Get your ass over here and do a line! We don't have all day" Cole shouted over the blasting music.

I turned to face him, desperately ignoring the stares from the group of guys he was sat with.

He was on a tattered old couch, in front of a chipped wooden coffee table which had a few lines of cocain set across it.

Cole always had strange friends, most of them drug dealers, some just addicts, all of them dangerous. But I never minded them, they're okay honestly. Handsy and arrogant? Sure but none of them tried anything on me. I think part of that reason was Cole, he placed a strict 'hands-off' rule but that only lasted until he was too busy getting drunk or high; then anything and everything went according to the others.

I began to saunter over to the couch he was sat on and as I approached him he grabbed my wrist, a little too harshly, and pulled me down, forcing me onto his lap.

His friend turned to me, then Cole, who was already on the verge of blacking out, before sliding his hand away from his side and towards my thigh, caressing just below the hem at the bottom of my navy dress. He was quite the opposite of sober, I could smell the alcohol on him.

"do a line, doll. Don't be boring. Let's have some fun." he winked at me as he sloppily leant back into the couch.

I sighed loudly. A little too loudly to be honest, Cole shook slightly. I thought he was already blacked out by this point.
He knew how to handle his drinks but not as much as he took, especially not when doing coke too.
I wasn't as drunk as he was. Not yet anyway.

A shiver ran down my spine as I felt cole's hand touch my back in a surprisingly gentle way.

"yn...get me a beer..Now" he commanded, slightly slurring his words as he fought with his eyes to stay awake.

"Cole, I don't think that's a good ide-"

"don't go against me yn. Fucking do it. Now. You know what happens if you don't." he interrupted me, pushing me off of him and towards the fridge of beers with his fingertips.

I stumbled momentarily, hitting my shin on the corner of the coffee table before wobbling on and grabbing a beer for Cole and one for myself.

I wandered over to Cole yet again, handing him the beer, hearing a muttered "good girl" before he took a sip, then drifted off into a sleep, spilling some of the beer onto his already stained t-shirt.

I opened my bottle, swiftly finishing it within a few minutes and walking over to the kitchen, leaning onto the counter and supporting my head with my scarred knuckles.
I sighed softly as I fought the fuzziness that rested in my head.

Most of the people from the party had left by now, considering it was about 4am. The only ones left were those who were blacked out or the ones that had nowhere to go. And me. The music was cut off at some point but I hadn't really noticed due to the ringing sound in my ears.

I've grown to hate this part of these parties. No possibility of going "home". Nothing good left to drink. Just silence.

I used to enjoy silence. I thought it was peaceful. Like an escape.
At some point along the line it became a trap. Like being stuck in an infinite black box with no escape and nothing but your own thoughts.
That's horrifying when you're thoughts are what haunt you.
When you're memories are what scar you.