Chapter 4

~MARLOWE~

“Please. Torin. Just a little.” I didn’t even recognize my own voice. It sounded thin. Like it was coming from somewhere behind me instead of out of my mouth.

“I can’t…I just need a little,” I begged.

My legs wouldn't stop moving, and I kept shifting, standing, sitting, then standing again. My skin felt wrong, too tight, too loud: like it didn’t fit.

Everything ached. I wouldn’t call it soreness. Not even tiredness, it was deeper than that. Almost as if my bones were trying to turn inside out. Even my teeth hurt…my freaking teeth. Who even knew that was possible?

Sixteen hours; I’d counted. Then I’d stopped counting and started again. Sixteen hours and my body was staging a revolt.

Torin sat at the table. Laptop open. I could hear the tap of the keys.

The sound had drilled itself into my skull.

He looked…normal. Like this was manageable. Like I wasn’t shaking hard enough that my fingers wouldn’t close properly.

“Will you look at me?” I snapped.

My voice was too loud and cracked halfway through.

At the sound he glanced up, his brows lifted slightly. And then I sneezed. Hard.

Once. Again. And then again.

It didn’t stop. My whole body jerked with it. My nose ran, my eyes watered, and  swiping at my face, I realized I was just making it worse.

“Jesus,” I muttered, stumbling toward the tissues.

My hands wouldn’t cooperate and I grabbed too many, dropped half of them, and then pressed the rest to my face, however the huge bundle still wasn’t enough.

On top of everything else, my skin crawled. That was the worst part, it felt like ants under the surface; scratching and clawing to get out.

I want the feeling to stop. Not slowly. Now.

I felt myself breaking, then his arms sliding around me from behind” warm, solid, and I sagged for half a second before I caught myself.

Don’t lean on him, I told myself. Don’t do it.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered.

It came out broken. “I can’t,” I repeated.

His chin came down and rested near my temple. I could feel his breath more than hear his words, as he soothed. “I’ve got you.”

No. No, you don’t. The words whispered through my mind.

Suddenly my stomach cramped so hard I folded in half. “Cramp,” I gasped, shoving away from him.

I barely made it to the bathroom before I dropped onto the toilet, doubled over, sweating. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. My heart felt as if it was trying to escape.

“What can I do?” he called from outside the door.

“Get me something!” I shouted.

“You want to help? Go get me something!” The desperation in my voice made me angrier. 

Silence.

“You won’t?” I shouted. “Then kill me. I swear to God, just kill me.”

“I’m not getting you drugs,” he snapped.

There was steel in his voice. “I’m getting you clean.”

“I’m a junkie!” I screamed at the tile. “That’s what I am. Accept it!”

“No.” Just that. Then I heard him walk away.

“Fuck you,” I whispered.

~~

Time turned weird after that. It stretched and folded in on itself.

I sweated through the sheets. Kicked them off. Froze. Pulled them back up. Sweated again.

I vomited until nothing came up but bitterness.

I cried because I hurt. I cried because I didn't hurt enough.

He brought water. I knocked it away. He brought a cold cloths, I threw them across the room.

I told him I hated him. He didn’t leave. That just made me hate him more.

Eventually, my body stopped shaking as hard, and I could stand without the room spinning.

It felt like a victory. Then I smelled food. It hit my stomach like a fist.

“No,” I breathed, then turned, trying to make it down the hall. I didn’t.

I dropped to my knees halfway there and vomited onto the floor.

It was violent, ugly, loud, and when it stopped, I stayed there. I didn’t have it in me to move.

What happened to you? What happened to the little girl with all the big dreams? I couldn’t help thinking.

Tears slid into the mess under my cheek, but I didn’t bother wiping them away, not even when I heard Torin’s footfalls on the wood, shame burning hot within me.

I still didn’t move, not even when he knelt beside me.

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t hesitate, as sliding his arms under me, he lifted me, bracing me against his chest. Ignoring the fact I was covered in vomit. Afterward, dropping a towel over the mess carried me toward the bathroom.

Moments later when he reached the door, he shouldered the door open. Following the action, he made his way over to the shower. Kneeling, and keeping a firm hold of me on his lap, he leaned forward. Twisting the knobs of the faucet, he adjusted the water's temperature. Then straightening and regaining his feet, he set me on the closed lid of the toilet, stripping me of my shirt. 

Shortly following the action, he pulled me to my feet, and shoved down my shorts, urging me to step out of them.

Stripping himself of his own jeans and shirt, he lifted me back into his arms and stepped beneath the water's spray, allowing its warmth to cascade down over the both of us.