My world was cold when it was its warmest. My friends were plastic when they where their most human selves. I was alone when I was being surrounded. I was quiet when I screamed at the top of my lungs.
His grip was firm on my arm. His nails cold on my skin. The cup that was forced in my hand was now filled with moist humid air. A strong sensation burned the back of my throat. My eyes slightly blurred my vision, while my head began to dance around the room trying it's best to stand still but completely and utterly failing. Standing became hard. Staying calm became difficult. Keeping my consciousness became impossible.
"Am I really that weak?" I murmured to myself.
"That I couldn't even stay awake after one drink."
After repeatedly mentally scolding myself for consistently stumbling, while walking where HE was dragging me to. Bumping into sweaty, dirty dancing bodies along the way.
"Genevieve," he whispered in an eerily calm manor. Looking at my surroundings I could tell we were in a bedroom. Due to the pale walls and bed in the center of the room.
"Do you love me?" He would ask in the most sinister yet sweet tone I've ever heard in my entire life.
Maybe I really do love him. Every one makes mistakes, and god forgives them.
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Please excuse my lame excuse for writing where as this is my first book. I'm honestly not sure where I want this to go, but I think that it will turn out pretty good. Just have faith that I won't turn this book to shit.
That's all, good bye my lovelies, until next time.
Love, Imani
