Young Blood ~•~Timothée Chalamet

Chapter 6

"Do you know all the ways you can kill a girl? God, there are so many."

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

My head was fucking pounding.

I rolled over on my side, rubbing at my forehead. I peeked an eye open to see a glass of water and an Advil tablet sitting on my nightstand.

God bless Carmen.

I grabbed at the pill, threw it on my tongue and took a generous swallow of water.

I checked my phone. Jesus, it was already twelve.

I rose to my feet, feeling a withdrawal from my pillow.

The day was only going to bring good things and hopefully the night would only continue to be fruitful. Those thoughts kept me going.

I followed a muffled humming into my bathroom. Carmen was down on her hands and knees working a foaming sponge into the tile. She threw an arm at me to shoo.

I groaned, marching away to use the hallway bathroom.

The door was wide opened, so I strolled in. The light was already on and I found Annette standing at the mirror.

She was examining her rolled up sleeve. A blooming bruise swam across her forearm. Her fingers slowly brushed over the purple skin before meeting my eyes in the reflection.

She quickly yanked her sleeve down and spun around. "Get out!"

I ignored her. "What's that from?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

"Annette," I pleaded, "why is he hurting you?"

She turned to face the mirror again, closing her eyes.

"I just want to help you." My voice reached for her from across the tile.

She was still my sister. No one had to suffer by the hands of a man.

Her eyes began welting up with tears. She lowered her head and spoke softly. "You don't even know what you're talking about. Now please...leave me alone."

"Annette..."

"Get out!" She screamed.

I frowned at her in the bathroom mirror. I turned to walk out, leaving her be.

Why did she want to suffer alone? I guessed as sisters, there was something that we had to finally have in common.

•••

I still had a couple of hours to kill before I had to get ready for tonight, so I went to Barnes and Noble.

I found myself in self-help, browsing for something that could magically solve all my problems.

My eyes scanned the endless rows of titles.

I Don't Want to Talk About it.

Addiction Doesn't Cure, Your Only Savior is You.