Maybe I'd Miss You?

5.

I should've returned to the banquet by now. Hiding away from my fears forever was an impossible dream, one that was going to get me nowhere. The sooner I returned, probably ending up with an award of some sort, the better.

Yet, here I still was, hunkering over at that same spot in the bathroom, praying no one else would come in, growing progressively weaker and weaker. It wasn't just a trick of the imagination at this point, or the alcohol. An overwhelming but subtle fatigue was taking over, and the president's trademark lately was subtle. It was becoming difficult just to keep my eyes open.

I glanced over at an empty stall, dread rising in my stomach. I really didn't want it to get to this point, but I didn't know what other options I had. I needed to purge the drugs from my system somehow, and the sooner they were gone, the better.

Yet, I couldn't do it. I couldn't just make myself puke. My lipstick could last a lot of things, sure, but it couldn't last that. How the hell would I even go about it? Punch my stomach? Stick my hand down my throat? Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew. No.

So that was out of the question before it even really began. Thank god. Guess I was just going to accept my demise. Fine by me, anyway. My thoughts were hardly coherent enough to protest, and I couldn't tell if that was from the one measly glass of wine or something laced within. Because there had to be something, right?

"Mortez?" I stumbled in surprise at the voice, having to use the sink as support. Great. Now someone else was going to see me like this. "You okay pal? You look like you're about to collapse."

One of the president's bodyguards. The middle one who stepped forward in the past. I couldn't tell whether he was there out of a place of genuine concern, or Howard just told him to check up on me. Either way, I'd assumed he left his post, which was fairly monumental. "Wh-What do you want?" My voice was slurring, and I winced, trying to pull myself together. He didn't need to see this.

"Just came to check up on you. You seemed...ill." Spoken like a man who knew exactly what was going on. I shrunk away, heart beating fast in my stomach. He knows. "Need any help, man to man?"

I sighed, rubbing my wrist and looking down at my feet. "I can handle myself, but thank you for checking up on me."

"Liar." His words were sudden, accusing. He journeyed closer, eyeing me with a curious lack of sympathy. "You're queasy. Need to lie down..."

A gut feeling told me this was everything I had been prepared to fear. "Leave me alone. Please." I moved to retreat to a stall, figuring that would be a better hiding spot. Before I could, he stopped me, clenching my wrist.

"Mortez, you've got to stop acting like the world's out to get you, because it's not." He twisted, exhibiting the strength expected of a bodyguard. I was stuck, unable to wiggle free. No superpowers required. "Only my boss is."

I panicked, scanning the room for some way out, any way out. I had nothing. Whatever this man planned to do to me, I was at his mercy. At least, until I looked underneath me.

The sink. Or more specifically, under the sink. There was a rather sizeable shadow I could hide in, where he wouldn't be able to follow. Even if he latched on, I wouldn't be able to take anyone with me. I'd hide until he left, then find some way out of this disaster later in the evening, ditching the banquet entirely. I'd deal with the consequences of that action in the morning. At least I knew Corey wouldn't give me a hard time about it. In this situation, it was the right thing to do.

Right?

"Let go of me," I snarled, giving one last ditch effort to attempt and rip my hand away. Granted, I only assumed he couldn't follow me into the shadow. The truth was tricky, and this time, I didn't want to risk it. It was better if he let go of his own free will.