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I shrug and stand again to grab my purse, removing another tiny vial. His eyes are still unfocused as I come up to him and once again straddle his lap, this time with my knees on his wrists, keeping them down.
“I think youhavegone too far, sweet Sergio,” I whisper, stroking his face, “And you certainly fucked up by not finishing me when you could.”
My hand rises to cover his mouth as the other lifts the tiny vial beneath his nose. He lamely tries to move me off him, but that last line was a bit too much.
Maybe I should have told him it wasn’t coke, I think with a grin.
Ignoring the feeble struggle, I hold my hand down hard until he’s forced to take a breath through his nose. When the new powder hits, his eyes widen and he begins thrashing. Letting out a squeak as I’m thrown from his lap, I watch with wide eyes as he begins to paw at his face, blood pouring out of his nose. Standing, I step back and watch.
“F-fucking b-bitch,” he chokes, falling from the couch and moving toward me.
His eyes are rolling around, but I can tell they’re trying to focus on me. His hand reaches toward my shoe, and instead of moving it away, I lift it and press down. My smile grows as I hear some small cracks, followed by his screams.
“You’re damn right I am,” I say, kneeling to grab his hair and lift his face.
I can tell by now he’s too far gone and I doubt he can hear me. I pull out the vial one more time and shove it back under his nose. He sputters and coughs and some of it flies up, but he also inhales more.
Sighing, I drop his head and watch with disinterest as he begins to spasm and seize. When he begins to foam at the mouth, I’m confident he’s done for. I’ve watched enough ODs to know where this is heading.
I blink, trying uselessly to dispel some of the fog from my own mind as he dies out at my feet.
Focus, the little voice tells me,what now?
I consider my next step. Others know I was with him tonight, so I have to be careful. Although Sergioisa known druggie, him going overboard one night isn’t so far out of the norm. Maybe it would be better if I stayed here? Called for help? I’m not sure what normal people would do in this situation.
Before I can decide, I hear a sound that strikes fear in my cold, dead heart. The door behind me opens.
Whipping around, I see Killian standing in the door. I’m still in my costume, and Sergio is quite literally seizing on the ground at my feet. My eyes meet Killian’s at the same moment Sergio lets out a choked sound and goes limp.
I freeze with my eyes wide, my heart pounding in my chest. A low hissing is the only sound, and I realize Sergio’s just pissed himself.
Neither of us move and time seems to slow to a crawl. Maybe those lines weren't a good idea, because the smart, quick-thinking me would have faked hysteria or something to help with the fact that Killianliterallyjust walked it on me watching Sergio die.
“I—”
Killian raises a hand to stop me, glancing down at Sergio’s now still form. Blood and foam cover his face and chest. White powder still clings to the edges of his nose.
Killian nods out of the room, and I hesitantly move to follow. He is apparently impatient though, because he grabs my arm and pulls me along. If I wasn’t still so shocked, I’m sure I’d be objecting to the treatment, but as it is, I’m still essentially frozen.
He doesn’t stop until we get outside the club, slamming the door behind him. I flinch without meaning to and he pauses long enough to look at me, before continuing to pull me into the parking lot. He doesn’t stop again until we get to a car. He all but pushes me into the passenger seat.
I should be panicking right now.
I should be freaking out because I just killed someone.
And someone caught me.
There are a lot of things I should be doing right now.
But for some fucking reason, all I can do is sit here as a slow and stupid grin crosses my face. By the time Killian sits down on the driver’s side and turns to me, I must look manic.
He looks at me but doesn’t comment, slamming the car into drive and pulling away. Absently, I look at my hand and notice it’s shaking. I put it back down on my purse. When we’re about ten minutes away from the club, Killian pulls off to the side. There’s only forest around here until you get to the city, and it’s a dark night.
My senses return as I hear him turn off the car. I reach my right hand into my handbag and remove the butterfly knife. It’s far from a huge weapon, but if this fucker has any ideas, I intend to be ready. Why the fuck I don’t have my pistol on me is beyond me, but hindsight is twenty-twenty, after all.
For what feels like a long time, we sit there in silence. My hand is wrapped around the knife so tightly my fingers are losing feeling.
“Drugs are bad,” Killian finally says, breaking the silence.
