Nadine's Stuck.

THIRTY-ONE

Nadine's POV

"Holy fuck," Riley mutters under his breath - voice filled with a tinge of amusement.

I'm standing just shy of the cracked-open door. Caden is at his desk, head down, cans surrounding him.

I'm sick. I'm so sick.

The poignant smell of alcohol wafts through the air, circling through the dorm.

Riley glances over at me. Evil, drilling eyes that rake over my body. "This is probably your fault, you know?"

I'm going to throw up again.

He continues, slowly stepping towards me. "If you just..." his jaw clicks tight "...didn't make a big deal out of everything. You drove the poor fucker back to drinking because you're so stressful, Nadine. You understand?"

I nod stiffly.

Although I know better than to listen to anything that comes out of Riley's mouth. 

...Don't I?

He's standing in front of me, eye-line in direct path of his lower chest. My neck refuses to bend to him - eyes remained fused to the floor.

If I looked up, it'd kill me.

"Say something," he demands. The pressure of his hands on my shoulder pushes me down, the floor cracking beneath me.

Swallow me, I silently beg it. Swallow me.

My mouth remains sewn shut.

"Nadia." He holds my shoulders harsher, meaner. "Fine. You don't have to talk. I don't need you to anyway."

His hands slide from my shoulders to the sides of my waist and my back, pulling me closer to him. My eyes shut tight.

Alcohol. All I can smell is alcohol. Cologne and beer. It is so utterly sickly.

His voice drops to a whisper, "I'm not going to do anything to you right now." He moves me further into the room, still close to him. He spins me.

"Open your eyes."

I shake my head.

Do not open your eyes, Nadine. You can fight against it this time. Don't be an idiot.

"Open them. Now."

The wolf growls at the bunny, scaring it.

They open. Idiotically. Robotically.

The bunny is weak. Pathetic.

Riley slips his hands from my waist, placing them on either side of my head, forcing my gaze to meet the horrific scene in front of me.

Cade.

My throat is squeezed so tightly, it hurts. Putrid burning climbs upwards.

He's drunk so much. The pile of cans was almost comical. The average person could die from alcohol poisoning just by being in this room.

Can you absorb alcohol through smell or contact?

My mind transports to the day in the bathroom - when the faint memory of leaning my lips on his took place - there were more pills than the ones I tried to take. Maybe he had more than just beers and coolers.

He's so still. Maybe he is dying.

God.

I need to get out of here. 

I wish I could freeze the world, rewind it like the lucky teenage girls in superhero movies.

"Look at that," Riley purrs, malicious entertainment oozing through words. "Really look. You rubbed off on him. I guess it was bound to happen, though. You're both messed. I mean...your arm. His drinking."