Intoxicated

II. Colours

A/N: The picture is of Romeo. I recommend listening to Colours by Halsey in the second part of this chapter (when the radio is turned on in the car). Enjoy x

*****

My arm is numb. As usual.

But this is very comfortable.

I open my eyes reluctantly and I'm in a car. With a girl.

"What?" I try to speak, but my throat is sore. I haven't had water in days. Or food. How did I survive?

And then... she rescued me.

Yeah. I remember.

I look at my bony arms and my skin starts to look green. Or maybe that's my mind playing tricks.

I feel her eyes on me. "You look horrible."

"Thanks." I say dryly.

"First, shelter," She continues, barely pausing, "Then food and water."

I would reply with a sarcastic comment about how I've had plenty of shelter and not enough food and water for months, but my throat starts itching again.

"But," She rummages for something in the side of her seat, driving with one hand. "You look like you need it." She has something in her hand, a water bottle, she throws it, oh – I was meant to catch it.

I look at the bottle in my lap, she does too. "Eyes," cough "On the road." cough.

I open the warm bottle and almost finish it when she says, "Leave some for me."

I wipe the side of my mouth, letting my fingers linger on my dry lips. If I could see myself, I doubt I would deny how horrible the girl thinks I look.

I let my head fall back and look at the dark sky. "How long was I asleep?" My voice is still scratchy, and my throat will probably never stop being sore, but I feel some comfort in the water.

"A day and a couple of hours."

"How many hours?"

"Darling, do I look like a clock to you?"

I shiver at the thought of this situation. It is still too surreal.

"What's going on?"

Her black eyes glance at me before turning to the road again, "Surprised you haven't asked me that yet."

"Well, I'm asking now."

The corner of her lips turn up, but her eyes remain hard and her face remains firm.

"Okay, this may take hours to get your head around, but - do you want the full story?" I nod. "Here we go then:

"Mexico's underworld is as dark and dangerous as any other country's, so I guess it's just your luck that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cartels everywhere: groups of people – evil, horrible, occasionally good-looking people," I give her a side glance. Well, she's not wrong - shut up conscience!

"Cartels are for messed up people with messed up lives and they go around with their guns and their stone cold faces, trying to earn enough money for the night – every single night. It's like any other drug system, you get the weed, or the marijuana or whatever helps you sleep at night and you smuggle it to high school drop outs or old men for lots of money."