Kasien #2
The room smells fucking disgusting. I can’t breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut as she drops to her knees and starts unbuckling my jeans.
God, it feels so wrong. She probably doesn’t want to do it either.
I feel the vomit again.
I’m not going be hard. It’s not going work.
I can’t believe what I’m doing, but I’m at my wits’ end, so I lean down to the table and snort the whole line of coke.
My nose instantly starts burning like hell. Like someone shoved a fistful of needles straight into my face. For a second I can’t breathe at all, like my whole skull tightens around the bridge of my nose. Then it drops down the back of my throat—bitter, chemical, metallic—and my tongue goes numb.
My gums tingle. A wave of heat shoots through my chest, then cold. My fingers shake. My vision sharpens and blurs at the same time, like the room is too close and too far. My thoughts start racing so fast they trip over each other.
I don’t feel better. I don’t feel stronger. I feel wrong.
Like my body is moving without me.
For a second I swear my brain is trying to crawl out of my skull and my whole face feels like it’s tearing itself open from the inside.
I grab the edge of the mattress because everything inside me jumps at once, like electricity exploding under my skin.
The girl says something, but it’s like she’s speaking underwater.
My heart goes insane. Too fast. Too loud.
Too everywhere. It’s pounding in my throat, in my wrists, in my teeth.
I can’t control it. I bow forward, both palms on my knees.
My vision is blurred but I can feel her opening my jeans and taking my dick out, touching it, probably trying to get it working.
I feel like I’m not in my body. I’m just sitting there staring at it, but I’m far away.
Then the panic finally melts. Not fully, but it loosens. Everything sharp turns warm and heavy. Like someone pressed a warm cloth over my mind.
My heart is still racing, but now it feels like it’s dragging me forward instead of choking me.
I open my eyes.
Colors look brighter. Her skin looks smoother. That stupid red light suddenly looks like a whole universe is glowing inside it.
She keeps touching me and I twitch unintentionally under her touch.
“There you go,” she mumbles, and I widen my eyes just when she’s about to take me into her mouth.
No, no, no.
Sudden warmth fills my core, but everything else feels wrong.
I can’t do this.
Gently taking her hair, I gesture to her to stop and get up from the bed, quickly shove my already softening dick back into my jeans, grab my clothes and get out of the room.
I stumble right into a wall, crashing into it face forward.
I see stars for a second, grabbing the narrow walls on both sides of the hall, trying to keep my balance.
My vision comes back after a couple of seconds, and I try to get out of the narrow corridor, but my legs are so heavy they don’t work properly.
I want to run, but instead I just stumble out, bare-chested, too high to pull my clothes back on.
The main VIP section finally appears ahead, Sylvia’s booth right in front of me.
I crash in, rage snapping loose inside me as I grab her collar and yank her toward my face, jaw clenched, fist ready to crack her skull.
But I realize what I’m doing instantly and take my hands off.
Fuck.
She stares at me, her eyes widened, deadly.
People blur past as I turn and bolt out of the club, shoulders slamming into strangers. Muffled swears follow me until I finally burst outside.
Cold night air slams into my face.
The tingle slowly settles as the late autumn air fills my lungs. My legs give out and I drop onto the frozen sidewalk, body falling backward, bare back hitting the cold asphalt.
Above me, the city lights bleed into the stars.
It’s beautiful.
Adrien and Natalya should be here watching this with me.
I want to go home.
My hand fumbles toward my jeans, searching for my phone. The pocket is there, but my fingers won’t cooperate. Next instinct—my gun. My hand grazes the waistband before I remember I left it in the glovebox.
“You are a fucking disappointment.”
Sylvia’s voice cuts through the night above me.
A sharp whistle follows. The driver appears, hauling me up by the arms and dumping me into the car. Everything feels wrong again, my vision blurring.
I open the car window and stick my head out like a dog so the cold air can take me down from my high.
After the never-ending trip home, I feel almost out of it.
When we get home, I can finally walk. I feel almost fine. Almost functional.
We get to the lobby and I slowly walk toward the living room when I see the fireplace burning. My body is freezing since I’m still half-naked, so I drop to my knees in front of the fireplace, staring into it, still feeling sort of dizzy, but the fireplace is calming the chaos inside.
Suddenly I feel Sylvia’s hand touching my nape, her fingers gently grazing me from behind. Her touch feels disgusting but I’m too weak to move away. She gets down on her knees behind me like she wants to hug me from behind.
She never hugs me, what the hell?
Then she moves.
Her hands grip my arms and push them right into the fire.
My palms are touching one of the huge logs, completely inside the flames.
I scream.
She holds my arms.
I can’t move.
I just scream.
The sharp fire is eating my hands, excruciating pain swallowing me alive. Hundreds of needles sting in my fingers. The smell of burning skin fills my nostrils as I keep screaming.
The second Sylvia’s grip loosens, I tear myself backward so hard I slam into the floor behind me. My hands leave the fire with a wet, sickening sound, like meat peeling off a hot pan. I choke on my breath and stare at them in pure shock.
Both of my palms are raw red and blistered instantly, the skin tight and shiny like boiling wax.
Angry white blisters bubble up in seconds, swelling under the surface.
The tips of my fingers are the worst—the skin is already lifting and wrinkling.
Black soot coats the backs of my knuckles and creeps up toward my wrists.
I flip my hands over and the air hits them.
I scream more.
Tears start to run down my cheeks.
“This was the last time you embarrassed me like this, Kasien.” Sylvia gets up and leaves as I keep screaming, the pain getting even worse every second, like someone poured molten metal straight into my bones.
The burns aren’t even consistent. Some parts of the skin are burned deep and dark, others blistered and bright red.
I curl my fingers in by reflex and instantly scream again.
The movement tears a line of blistered skin open across my palm.
A strand of clear fluid leaks down my wrist. The smell of smoke and burnt skin clings to me so strongly I gag.
My hands tremble uncontrollably from the shock. I can still move them, but every movement feels like tearing through barbed wire. I drop onto my back, lying on the ground, the carpet beneath me soaking with my tears.
The pain is spreading to the rest of my body. Everything burns.
“Oh God, I’m calling an ambulance.”
I open my eyes.
My sister is kneeling next to me. When did she get here?
I close my eyes again, trying to shut my body off, to turn off all the life functions.
But I can’t. Everything burns.
The pain somehow reaches my brain and now it’s burning too. I drop my head to the side, not sure if my eyes are open or closed, but I see my mom.
Her warm, chocolate-brown eyes relax me as I’m slowly passing out.