Wasted Youth

One.

   A pulsating feeling resonated behind my eyes. My body felt hot and limp, like my muscles had been injected with lead. I groaned, my hand reaching to grab my head. The light that poured from the slightly open window made my eyes burn.

   I only realized that I wasn’t in my room when the smell didn’t seem familiar. The bed I was laying on wasn’t plush like mine, the blanket wrapped around me felt scratchy, not soft. 

   “It’s about time you woke up.”

   My eyes slowly slid open, soreness surrounding my eye sockets. My vision was blurry, but a few blinks fixed the problem. I searched the dark room to find the source of the deep voice.

   A good-looking male had his feet covered in black, scuffed combat boots that kicked up, resting against the bed I laid on. He was leaned back in a wooden chair, the front two legs didn’t touch the ground. When his icy orbs connected with mine, he tossed the book he was reading to the ground. He removed his long legs from the bed and the chair’s legs met the ground.

   I groaned, my eyes sliding shut a second more before I tried sitting up. 

   “Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he told me. “It’ll only make your headache worse.”

   I laid on my back, my arm covered my eyes. “Where am I?”

   “My house--well, apartment.”

   “Why?”

   “You were drugged.”

   I removed my arm, my eyes snapping open. At that moment, I didn’t care about my headache or the way my stomach twisted with nausea. I quickly snapped up, a wave of dizziness hitting me like a riptide. 

   The male let out a frustrated sighed. “I told you not to sit up.”

   “I was drugged?” I asked, ignoring his attitude. 

   He turned his head to look at me and at that moment I realized how handsome he was. As his stormy gray eyes stared at me with a hard look, I became self-aware of all my flaws. His sheer beauty made me want to hide my face from the world. 

   “You ask quite a bit of questions,” he told me, completely oblivious to my panic. “But to answer you: Yes. You were drugged.”

   “Holy crap,” I muttered to myself. I looked away from him, pulling my legs to chest and hugged them tightly. I haven’t even been in this stupid new town for more than two days and I had already been drugged and spent the night in a strange man’s house--well, apartment.

   “Why was I drugged?” I asked, mostly to myself.

   “Apparently you’ve never heard the rule of not accepting open open drinks at a party,” he replied sarcastically. He looked at me expectantly, as if a lightbulb would glow above my head signaling that I remembered something.

   I stared at him blankly. 

   He sighed, his eyes rolling. “You don’t accept open drinks ‘cause sick fuckers like to put knock-out drugs so they can rape little, naïve girls like you.”

   My eyes widened, shock jolting down my spine. My heart dropped into my stomach in fear. “R-Rape?”

   The male looked away from my fearful eyes, looking down with his pink lips pressed into a tight line. “Let me tell you something. People are horrible, unforgiving creatures.”

   His deep voice held something more than just words. Something darker, more mysterious. But before I could let his saying sink it, he quickly stood from the chair. He walked across the small room and grabbed something off the cheap wooden desk. When he turned, he gently threw my cellphone so it landed on the blanket covering my lap.