Plant New Seeds | H.S.| AU

Chapter Fourteen - The Pile

N I A

Harry: Nia, please answer me.

"For the last fucking time, I don't want the heat on."

I didn't give two shits about my rating as a rider on Uber going down by a half point. I was only concerned with the deep pile of shit awaiting me once the ride was done.

I didn't want to be bothered, nor was I in the right place to be, and Driver L39490 refused to stop trying to engage in pessimistic small talk.

It had only been ten minutes—he had asked me if I wanted the heater on four times, and offered me candy that was probably poisoned with meth six times.

Harry: I just need to know you're okay.

The thought of the Meth Milky Way was starting to become more appetizing.

Harry: Please.

With the combination of all the vodka tonics I had, I was sure I would definitely overdose, probably wind up on the news tomorrow morning.

"Bummy Beyonce Found Dead in Uber as a New Victim for the Kit Kat Killer; Left Unclaimed in Morgue for Weeks."

I would finally be on one of those Investigation Discovery shows I loved so much and wouldn't even be alive to watch it, fuck.

Harry: If it's something I did, I'm so sorry, Angel.

I always thought I would become a demon when I died. Hell seemed like more my speed. One bite of the Acidic Almond Joy and I would find out tonight.

Harry: Just tell me where you are.

Or maybe I would die from a car crash, Driver L39490 was driving a little too reckless across the Manhattan Bridge for my liking. Another possible headline:

"Dangerously in Uber: Headless Beyonce Impersonator and Unsightly Uber Driver Die in Halloween Horror Crash."

Harry: At least tell me when you arrive at your destination safely.

The question, Dear Harry, was if I would be safe once I got to the destination.

Getting there was only the first step. But it had to be done. Pretending that nothing was wrong and going back to Harry's palace to have the best sex of my life wasn't an option.

And nothing in my fucked up like would ever be that simple.

Which was exactly why I wanted to avoid this entire night in the first place. Harry could scream from the highest of mountain tops, or the Brooklyn Bridge, whichever was more convenient, that I wasn't a burden and he still wouldn't be able to convince me otherwise.

The one person that never let me forget I was a burden in all twenty-six years of my life knew that I needed that reminder tonight.

-

It was hard to believe that I was standing in a nightclub bathroom; it was immaculate. Not the typical dimly lit, shit-baked smell, piss all over the floors bathrooms I was used to with these kinds of clubs.

But then again, I rarely went out. The last time I had been to a club was when I met Brandon. Maybe nightclub bathrooms had stepped their game up.

Seemed like neither Mariana nor Jules had any interest in using the stalls, just the big rectangular mirror on the wall right above the sinks on marble counters. Each of them flocked to either side of the mirror, immediately leaning in to primp and tease themselves back to pre-drunkenness.