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My eyelids flicker open, and I blink back the heavy fog of unconsciousness. My muscles feel weak, my throat is dry, and a headache already blooms across my forehead. It takes me another few minutes to have enough strength to sit upright. I groan loudly, my gaze flitting around the dimly lit room as my hands slide over my body. I’m dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Something about that doesn’t seem right, but I can’t gather my thoughts enough to figure out why. My fingers creep across the bedding, which is surprisingly soft beneath my hands. The room itself is warmly decorated in jeweled tones, there are canvases covering the walls with art that looks vaguely familiar in my foggy brain. Even though I feel like I’m drunk or high, I know this isn’t a dream just like I know that this isn’t my flat.
Where the hell am I? What am I doing here?
Then, like a spotlight being switched on inside my dark and cloudy thoughts, I remember.
I remember being in the cage at Grim’s club.
I remember dancing.
I remember the girls.
I remember Xeno.
Xeno.
Xeno who told me to trust him, who told me he loved me then stabbed a needle in my fucking neck! My hand lifts automatically to the spot, my fingers pressing against my skin where he’d injected me, and I wince at the phantom pain. Adrenaline rushes through my veins at the memory, followed swiftly by betrayal and anger.
Flipping my legs over the side of the bed, I sit upright. My head goes woozy at the sudden movement and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to force my brain to stop thinking I’m on a rollercoaster. When the feeling passes, I open my eyes and take another good look around me. On the side table next to me is a glass of water and a packet of headache pills with a sticky note fixed to them.
Take these, it will help.
Fuck that. I don’t trust the note or the person who fucking wrote it.
Speaking of which.
A familiar voice draws my attention to the slightly ajar door. Gingerly, I creep forward, my feet padding over the soft carpet. With the side of my body pressed against the wall, I peer out through the crack. At the end of the hallway is an open plan living room. Sitting at a table that separates the kitchen area from the lounge, is Xeno. He’s talking in hushed tones into his phone.
I see red.
Anger like I’ve never felt before courses through my veins as betrayal clogs my throat.
I yank open the door and storm down the hallway into the room ignoring the way my head spins, ignoring the fact that my balance is still off. Thank fuck for adrenaline, otherwise I’d be on the floor in a fucking heap.
Xeno’s eyes widen and he bites out a terse reply before placing his phone onto the table and rushing towards me. “Tiny, fuck, you need to sit down before you fall down,” he says, reaching for me, concern rippling across his traitorous face.
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I shout, holding my arms out as I stagger sideways, gripping hold of the back of the sofa to steady myself.
“Tiny, let me explain…” His hands drop to his sides and he steps back.
Tears prick my eyes. “Let you explain? Let you fucking explain?! You drugged me. You stabbed me with a needle and knocked me the fuck out, Xeno! You stole hours of my life. Why would you do that? Why would you fuckinghurtme like that?”
My body shakes so hard that my teeth start to chatter, and my skin covers in a sheen of sweat, instantly cooling my heated, enraged heart until it’s ice cold. I want to throw up. But there’s nothing in my stomach, so I just heave and gag instead. I double over, retching, with nothing to show for it but a burn in the back of my throat that matches the sting in my eyes.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Xeno says softly, but there’s the slightest hint of an edge to his voice as though he doesn’t quite believe that either. It’s as though the softness of his tone is covering up how he truly feels. When he presses his hand against my lower back, I feel the tension he holds, and the lies burn a tattoo into my skin.
“Safe?” I hiss, forcing myself upright and backing away from him even though a small part of me wants to step towards him, butfuck that.Just because he says I’m safe doesn’t mean it’s true. Xeno asked me to trust him, and then knocked me out. How can I trust him now? Who the fuck does that to someone they supposedly care about? “Don’t you dare lie to me!”
“Sit down. Let me explain.” There’s a pained look on his face, and I see how his hands shake, how he curls his fingers into fists trying to suppress whatever’s eating him up inside. “I won’t hurt you.”
I bark out a laugh. It sounds thready, broken. “Again, lies! I see you. I fucking see you, Xeno,” I shout, my gaze falling on his fists, at the veins bulging beneath his forearms like any minute now he’s going to lose his cool and show me the man underneath the mask.
He shakes his head, his nostrils flaring as he uncurls his fingers and shakes out his hands. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Sit down,” he orders, pulling out a chair at the table.
“Where am I?” I snap, ignoring his request and looking wildly around me. Hanging on the wall above the fireplace is another huge painting similar in style to the one in the bedroom, the bold colours and style familiar even though I don’t know why that is right now. My head’s still too foggy, my thoughts disjointed.
