016, they worked tf outta her !

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FINLEY        BRIGGS












Finn hated Ding Dongs. She hated snakes. She hated wine. She hated sobriety. And she hated her life. Not necessarily in that order.

The whole time Finn trudged up the hill, she was nauseous, sweating, and jittery. She wanted to drink so bad, but then she would curse at herself for the all-consuming urge. She couldn't anyway—the legion's officers prohibited her from doing so.

The thing was, Finn made it seem like she drank alcohol because she wanted to. Because it was fun. That way no one took her seriously—they assumed she had no clue what she was talking about, that she was disrespectful, that she wasn't worth caring over. Finn always told herself it was easier that way, and she was better off.

But it was times like these, in her most vulnerable moments, that the festering darkness inside wanted to drain her until there was nothing left but blood and tears.

Finn's carefully built stage was burning down to show that the alcohol controlled her, not the other way around. She had no hold over her own life. Finley Briggs had never just been Finley Briggs. She was Isla's, then she was Gaea's, then she was Lupa's, then she was Jason's, then she was the alcohol's. She was nothing if not a mindless idiot too afraid of herself to create a significant purpose.

The clearer her head became in her sobriety, the more vividly she could see the blood tainting her hands. The blood that had been there since the age of six. It made the termors of her body worse—the mixture of uncontrollable physical reactions and mental punishment was terrible.

It only made Finn sicker.

"Come on, Finley," Hazel pleaded, readjusting her grip. "At least try working with me."

Finn didn't want to cooperate. She wanted to drop onto the floor. Maybe Gaea would consume her whole, or maybe the heart palpitations would take her out before that even happened.

Hazel didn't let either thing happen. Unfortunately.

As they got closer, Finn was grateful to find that the store was no longer bursting with rainbow light. Brightness was sure to make her pounding head worsen, so it was nice to see that the building stayed dark.

They were twenty yards from the porch when something hissed in the grass behind them.

"Go!" Frank yelled.

Finn whimpered. Percy stumbled. Hazel helped him up. Frank turned and nocked an arrow.

Finn wasn't the most considerate in the first place, so she didn't try to help Hazel much in walking towards the store. She didn't even think she could help if she wanted to. She was just as pale and weak as Percy's sick ass—what a fine duo the two of them made.

"Please, you two," Hazel grunted. "Let's go faster."

"I need wine."

"I need Sylvie."

Hazel threw her head back for a moment, pausing in her dragging of Finn and assisting of Percy. Finn thought she heard Hazel whisper, "Gods, help me," but Finn's mind was also very discombobulated right now.

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