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Thatcher
“Bro, what the fuck?” Wells shot, pausing. “Where are your clothes?”
My buddy Wells was getting his dick sucked, a girl on her knees in front of him in the middle of our living room.
I blew past them both, heading to the bathroom. They technically did have on more clothes than me. I had no shoes on or even any pants outside of my boxers, shirtless…
“You’re also… bleeding. Thatcher, what?—”
I blew chunks into the bowl on the first floor, effectively drowning out Wells’s voice. He’d followed me.
I didn’t stop.
Once it started, I couldn’t. No matter how hard I gripped the bowl and willed for that shit to stop. No matter how hard I tried.
“Thatch.” Wells was beside me in seconds, a fury of fake blond hair. He dyed his hair. He was normally a brunet, and there wasn’t a bunch of room in the bathroom, but he got in beside me. We were both large motherfuckers. He was more so tall where I was wide. He was working his Pembroke Football hoodie over his bare chest, but stopped when he spotted me in here. He fell down beside me. “Thatcher…”
“Is everything okay?—”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Wells roared, and the girl who’d sucked his dick twitched before fleeing from the bathroom. Apparently, she followed me into the fucking bathroom too.
Christ.
I had no time to think about that shit. I had no time to think. All I could do was fight the images in my head, the music.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Just like throwing up, I couldn’t. This shit was a chain reaction.
Wells’s hand hovered over me. “Bro, did you eat something weird?”
I’d laugh at my friend if I could. He knew I had an iron stomach. I ate fucking everything and had to.
I wished what he said had been the case. I wished to fucking shit it was. Fucked-up food didn’t have me like this. It didn’t have me gripping the fucking toilet bowl like a little bitch.
It didn’t have me shaking.
Wells saw that too, and his green eyes flashed. He wrestled his fingers through his white hair. “Buddy, let me go get Wolf.”
Wolf was one of our other best friends, and though I should have let Wells go get him… Wolf would know what to do, I didn’t. Wells started to leave, and the first thing I did was let go of the bowl.
“No, please don’t leave.” I felt so cold, so fucking dark. I grabbed Wells, not caring that I got blood all over him. My hands were bleeding, my fists. I shook my head. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”
The words I spoke just played in my head. Honest to shit, I didn’t even know what I said. I just knew I couldn’t be alone. I knew he couldn’t leave.
The voices…
His voice. His fucking smell…
The bile threatened to come again, and thank fuck for my buddy’s strength. I was bigger than him. I was bigger than everyone, but Wells managed to handle me bracing him within an inch of his life.
“Okay. Okay.” Wells braced me right back and let me hold on to him. He was lanky as shit, but he didn’t let go. I was even ripping this dude’s fucking hoodie. He placed a hand on my back. “I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
He couldn’t if he wanted to, and I closed my eyes. I did because I knew that he knew to do this.
Because he’d done it before.
I let a sound escape then, and I knew that shit sounded familiar. I knew she’d heard me do it before, seen me…
