Hate is just a word.

Oh shit

My head spun like a total bitch. I could see Eric next to me, arm wrestling with the bar tender for 50 bucks or some shit.

Don't throw up! Don't throw up! My mind kept screeching at me minute after sickly minute. The room became a flurry of moving shapes and distant sounds, all of my senses mashed up into one giant mess!

I'm gonna throw up.

Springing up with an unexpected expected energy; I sprinted towards the bathroom, knocking down anyone in my way!

Finally I got to the bathroom! Rushing over to the toilet I bent over and churned out about three gallons worth of lager and whisky along with whatever shit that weird guy gave us on the way down hear. I'm not sure how long I was throwing up for, it felt like an eternity to me but eventually the vomit subsided and I was left a limp, sweaty mess, lying on the bathroom floor.

"Hello Cam"

... oh shit

~Eric~

"Handitover bitch!" I yelled at the blurt figure in front of me. He/it/she handed over something bright green and fuzzy. "Th~ankths ma~at*e*" I slurred, popping the t.

Oh shit! I thought as the bile in my stomach began to rise to my mouth. I walked towards the bathroom, running wouldn't help, and threw my face over one of the toilets.

"ERIC!"

I looked up to see Cam being dragged out the window by his neck, his arms and legs bound.

"Cam? CAM!" I shouted, flopping towards him.

As much as I'd love to say that I got to him in time. That I grabbed him in my arms and cradled him to my chest. That I unbound his limbs and kissed him tenderly, wiping away his tears before they could get caught on one of his scars, I can't. For that's not how this story goes at all.

And this is in fact, Where the heartbreak begins.