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She felt sick, but they kept her immobile, making her down the entire drink.
And then they let her go.
She stood up and jerked away from them, stumbling in her heels, her balance completely off-center. Dizziness assaulted her, making her hold the wall for support, stars blinking in front of her eyes, her heart beginning to gallop like a wild horse, her entire body warming gradually to the point she began to sweat. Coherent thought began to leave her mind.
Light. She felt light, like the weight of the world had been taken from her shoulders, like there was nothing to worry about. What was this thing they had given her? She didn’t know and didn’t care. Her body began to sway in the rhythm of the music, her insides heating up and buoyant after endless drowning, a high hitting her so suddenly she didn’t know what she would do when she crashed.
“Yeah, leave her like that. I want the hotel premises secure. She’ll crash in a bit.”
She heard the words but stayed in the alcove, dancing to the music, exhilarated and terrified as a small part of her retained sense, knowing this wasn’t right.
No, she needed to get away.
Stumbling around the furniture and the bodies, she somehow made it to the back door, knowing it opened into the alley. She could get some air and it would all be okay.
Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around, taking her deeper into the building to the elevators. Moments later, she felt herself being escorted somewhere, her eyes unable to focus on the moving view as the exhilaration changed, transformed into the sharp edge of pain. She heard herself moan in the biting agony but it didn’t relieve her, only elevated the pinching sensation under her skin.
Suddenly, she was horizontal, a bed beneath her back, and she blinked her eyes to see the ceiling.
Memories of watching ceilings on her back assaulted her; the black hole beckoned again. But she was too hot, her skin felt uncomfortable. Someone tore her clothes off, leaving her naked on the cool sheets. Lost between the pain and delirium that called to her, she needed something. She needed more. God, what did she need? Her body sweat as her heart raced overtime, thumping in her chest, each chest bringing her a second closer to a certain death. Was she going to die? Was this it?
“We live online?”
“Yeah.”
A sharp pain in her nipple made her cry out as someone’s mouth covered it.
“No!” she tried to push them away, struggling, and someone slapped her hard, making her head spin faster. But thankfully whoever it was left her alone.
“Upload the feed. He’s going to come once he sees this.”
Someone spoke, and she knew she needed to focus on the words to understand what was happening, but it felt slow like she was trying to walk through sludge. Where was she? What bed was this? Who was coming?
Him.
He was coming.
A wave of relief so acute swept over her she began to cry. But no, he couldn’t come. They were waiting. They would get him, and she didn’t want that. Who would make her feel safe then? Who would give her answers? Who would she trust? Did she trust him? No. Yes. A bit. Maybe. What was she thinking? Why was she so feverish?
Minutes or hours or nights passed she didn’t know; she looked at the ceiling, writhing on the bed to find some semblance of comfort, her body burning as she breathed, her heart pounding in a way it was scaring her. She tried to inhale to calm down but couldn’t focus enough, could focus on nothing.
All of a sudden, the ceiling disappeared, the room going pitch black.
She whimpered.
She didn’t like the dark. Memories of being trapped in dark spaces came to her, her fear making her shiver as she began to sob. She was alone, and she was going to die, overdosed by a drug she didn’t know, as bait for a man she didn’t know, by strangers who didn’t care. Nobody cared. What was even the point of living?
Something cold pressed against her cheek, making her seek more of the coolness that gave her a brief moment of respite.
A hand. Leather.
“Shh.” The voice of death came from the darkness, his voice, right next to her ear. “I’m here, flamma. Shh.”
A sharp cry of relief left her unbidden even as her mind revolted. No, no, he couldn’t be here. She had to warn him. But she’d promised he wouldn’t hear her voice again. But she didn’t want him to die. Fuck the promise. He had to live.
“It...it’s...a tr..trap,” she stuttered somehow, her teeth chattering as her eyes tried to find him. She couldn’t see a thing in the utter darkness, but she felt him—muscled, solid, there.
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her, his voice soft, soothing almost, the leather going to the other cheek.
