Custom Made For You

Chapter 34- Ah, Yes, Bad Choices

I looked at him, at the drink, then back at him. He had been staring at me so intensely for the past minute and it was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. He was drunk, yet he was still very much persistent about me taking a shot.

"Go on, drink," he said, holding up a cup to my face. "Drink it."

I took the glass, hand shaking slightly, I looked at him with uncertainty. 'If it could get him out of here, a little won't hurt,' my heart whispered. Yeah, a little wouldn't hurt, right?

In one go, I downed the entire cup. I wiped the access liquor off my mouth before asking, "There, you happy now?"

He nodded and pointed to the four other cups, "And four more to go!"

Ah, fuck. I downed two more of them before Vastel came to my rescue. I heard him from afar, "Nani the heck are you two doing? The taxi is here!"

We then proceeded to drag Fancy-Ass out while Vastel was giving me an earful as to how long he was waiting outside for me and I was in there downing shots.

We successfully got him onto the car without him puking on the way, which was great. Vastel literally bailed himself out faster than Usian Bolt could run, leaving the two of us alone on the car with the driver.

I wish I could say we drove off into the beautiful (not) night. However, that was not the case.

Intense throbbing in my head and pain hit my stomach like how a washing machine was thrown around in my stomach interrupted my peaceful ride home. It was a sign, a really bad sign. I nearly blacked out when I asked an important question, which I should have asked before downing does shots, "What were in those? Was Vodka included?"

Fancy-Ass smiled at me, "Those were Kamikaze. Yesh, Vodka was in there. Why?"

"Oh, shit," I said as I finally lost my consciousness.

●◦●◦●◦

He was chasing me, non-stop. With that evil look in his eyes, he grinned, a wooden stick in his hands. I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. I felt a pair of hands grabbing my frail bony frame from behind, restricting my movements. I struggled, kicked and yelled, as expected, no one came to my aid. I couldn't see their faces, but I could sense familiarity wafting in the air. I knew the place, I knew the people, I knew the setting, yet I couldn't pinpoint where and who exactly.

I felt the first powerful strike of the stick on my head, as if he had intended to smash my skull. A series of painful strikes hit my skin, leaving bruises and broken bones. I could feel everything being crushed and damaged.

He raised his stick, ready to throw his final blow on the already half-conscious me.

●◦●◦●◦

I woke up, covered in cold sweat, confused and scared. It had been years since I had that dream. Everything was still blur, still a mess, I was still terrified. I looked around, finally slowly getting the grip of reality. I couldn't see very clearly without my glasses in the dark room. I was in my clothes the night before, my ears were ringing, I had no idea what had happened before I blacked out. I squinted, looking around, I could tell that I was in my room. The question was how I got there. An arm suddenly pressed me back down onto my bed, pulling me close into a warm body. I looked up to see Fancy-Ass, his eyes glistened in the dark. He whispered, "Are you Tolmer or Cielo?"