Savior (Scomiche)

Shots

"Another shot? C'mon, I'll do one, too," Jack coaxed.
He flashed a charming smile, all the more convincing me in my inebriated state. "Sure."
"Good, I'll be right back." Jack was only half as drunk as I was, and could still walk, while I stumbled and hit things if I even tried.
I scanned the room, Sexy and I Know It blasting as the background music. There were people mingling, falling over each other, and making out in corners.
A girl in a miniskirt being pressed against a wall, a crowd by one of the several coolers, a blond man sitting in the armchair staring mindlessly at his almost empty glass of alcohol. I couldn't tell what it was- maybe a screwdriver.
I studied him longer than everyone else, for he was the only one being truly silent. His thumb moved in circles along the rim of his cup, elbows cemented to his thighs, head bowed, lost in thought. I was wondering why he was being so quiet when Jack reappeared with four shot glasses. He set them on the counter behind where I was balancing on my barstool. My legs swung violently, a hyper vibe surging through me. The heels of my feet made dull thuds against the metal bottom of the stool with each kick, that only I could hear with the music blaring.
Snapping back into the situation at hand, I snatched a shot glass and listened to Jack's countdown. "3... 2... 1... DRINK!"
I slammed the drink down, wincing as the liquid burned my throat.
I grabbed the next shot, ready to go. Jack grinned, obviously enjoying that I was willing to get hammered.
"Who are you drinking to forget?" Jack questioned, pressing his hand on my left thigh.
"Travis," I answered. "He's my asshole ex-boyfriend."
I had no idea why I was sharing that with this guy. Maybe it was his charming smile and chestnut, tusseled hair. Or maybe it was the way his eyes sparkled bright green and were welcoming, like a friendly neighbor inviting you in for coffee. Maybe it was the way that how out of every guy he flirted with in this room, he had settled on me. In a way it made me feel special. Like, "Take that Travis, I'm important to someone other than you".
"Ex?" Jack inquired, with an almost mischievous tinge in the single word.
I nodded. "Broke up three days ago."
Jack's grin widened. "Perfect. Drink up, Mitchie."
I threw the shot back, swallowing as soon as it hit my tongue.
The effects from the previous drinks were becoming prominent. My cheeks felt flushed and chilled, and though there was tons of partiers in the room, I could only focus on one.
The blond man.
Being I felt so dizzy, I only focused my gaze on him. It helped make sure I wouldn't fall, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't see me staring because he was terribly distracted.
If I couldn't walk correctly with the prior drinks, the current ones would make me practically immobile. Suddenly I was weighted, my mind hazy, as if it was hitting me all at once. It had started slowly, then suddenly sped up, making it so I couldn't keep any thoughts. They fluttered off just as quickly as they came.
Only a couple seconds after the shots, I pursed my lips and looked at the man whose fingers were inching towards my crotch.
"What's your name again?" The words were connected to one another, my tongue heavy.
His features suddenly glowed with confidence. The booming music made it difficult to hear, so he moved forward, leaning on my knees to whisper in my ear. He was so close, it felt frozen when his mouth closed, no longer with the hot breath lingering. "My name is Jack, but you can call me Daddy."
I was disgusted. "Yeah," I scoffed. "Like I'd ever call you Daddy."
I shoved him away, but he brushed it off quickly, displaying a fake smile. It was like the Cheshire Cat, full of evil ideas, but condensed into something kind. "Let's get you another drink," he purred.
I nodded, becoming tired. My eyelids drooped and I was barely able to keep them open. With my smaller frame, I couldn't handle much alcohol without passing out.
I stablized my body by pressing one hand on the counter and trying to sit up a little straighter. The room was spinning, but as soon as Jack came back with another drink, I practically chugged it. I was only partly awake, so when Jack asked "Wanna head up to my room?" (I had no idea it was even his party, honestly), I tried to say no, but it wasn't effective. I felt an arm snake around my waist and a grumbling hiss of "This way".
He basically carried me up the stairs because my knees were like jelly and I couldn't walk on flat ground, much less steps.
Once he had found his bedroom, he helped me inside and pushed me on the bed. I tried to resist, but he had already fumbled his way on top to straddle me.
My "no"s were unrecognizable, but the noises I was making couldn't possibly have been misconstrued as that I liked what he was doing. His icy fingers glided up the skin under my shirt, and slowly pulled it to reveal my bare torso.
I physically couldn't keep my eyes open, so I closed them, feeling myself drift in and out of consciousness. Jack kissed my chest, and before he even had my shirt all the way off, unzipped my pants, tugging them down.
I made one last ditch effort to convey how I didn't agree to this with a weak shriek.
That's the last thing I remember before passing out.

When I awoke I was in my own bed, in my own apartment. Avi entered the room with a glass of orange juice and handed it to me.
"Hey buddy, glad you're finally awake. Things got crazy last night."