Page 75 of Malicious Desires

He nods at me, scooping a heaped forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

“Hey Blaise,” I greet him, screwing the lid of my bottle of water and taking a sip.

He gulps down his mouthful of spaghetti, and replies, “Hi Jasp. You doing ok?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”

I twirl my fork through my spaghetti, biting down on it and slurping it. It tastes good, but food isn’t going to take away the ache in my stomach and heart.

“That’s no good. Want something to take the edge off?” he asks, quirking his eyebrow up at me with his suggestive tone.

“You got any painkillers or Xanax?”

“Always, bro. Got both.”

“I’ll have both. Bring them to my room after supper,” I request, yanking the cash out and waving it at him.

He nods again, grabbing it under the table and slipping it into his pocket. We both finish eating our spaghetti in relative silence, except for the slurping of the spaghetti.

* * *

Since coming back from the dining hall, I’m pacing my room waiting for Blaise to arrive with the drugs. I know I shouldn’t be contemplating taking anything not prescribed to me, but I want the pain to go away. Being kept away from Reece has me so on edge I feel like scratching my skin raw to feel something. I can’t cope with feeling so empty. If I can’t take the pain away I want more pain–different pain–not heartbreak. Heartbreak is the worst kind of pain. It hurts more than when I broke my arm as a kid falling off my pushbike.

Glancing at the clock I notice I’ve only been back for about fifteen minutes, however it feels like it’s been hours. Time is fickle lately. It’s only been a week since everything happened and I was forced to not see Reece, although it feels like it’s been months, years even. Even a day without him would be–is–torture I’ve had my fill of feeling. I grab a bottle of vodka from my closet. It’s only half full and I have no idea when I opened it. It doesn’t matter. It will go down like water anyway.

I’m just screwing the lid off when there’s a rap of knuckles on my dorm room door. I open it to find Blaise smiling until he sees me. I’d stripped off so all I’m wearing is grey sweats with paint stains down the legs.

“Eww, dude. You could wear something.”

I scoff under my breath. “I’m wearing sweats. Have you got the stuff?” I ask, glancing around him, up and down the hallway to make sure no one is watching.

“Yep, got you some extra…” he starts speaking rather loudly, and I grab his arm to tug him into my room. I push it closed hard, and glare at him.

“Seriously, Blaise. Have you no tact? Someone could hear you.”

“Sorry. But you need to relax dude.”

Again I scoff at him. “Hence why I need the damn pills, idiot.”

He scowls at me, clearly offended by my name calling but I couldn’t care less. I just need the drugs now.

He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out three tiny ziplock bags with five or so pills in each. He waves them in front of my face, a wicked smirk on his face that has me worried for a moment. The worry is short lived though, and I snatch the bags from his grip.

“Thanks, Blaise.”

“Anytime, Jasper. Enjoy your high.”

I plonk down on the end of the bed, and he sees himself out. I don’t even look up at the door–hoping in passing that he actually closed it–as I open the ziplock bags and tip the contents out onto the duvet.

I have no idea which ones are which, and frankly I don’t care. I screw off the cap from the vodka, and scoop up a handful of the tablets, tipping them into my open mouth before taking a swig of vodka to swallow them down. It burns. Kinda in a good, numbing type of way though.

I repeat the process with the remaining tablets, gulping down the rest of the vodka until my throat feels numb and my head starts spinning. I lay back on the pillow, and close my eyes, spreading myself out on the bed to drift away and forget about the pain of not being with Reece.

Chapter 42

Reece

The past week without Jasper by my side has been absolutely crucifying. I’m empty without him and my head is filled with words of anguish. The dickhead who said love was beautiful was a liar. The only thing that made this week bearable was Malyk and Bartholomew being discharged from the hospital. They’d both suffered bullet wounds, but their surgery removed the bullets and thankfully hadn’t done any damage to internal organs. Malyk had lost his spleen but a small price to pay for him being alive. No one even knows what the fuck a spleen is for anyway. I’m sure he won’t miss it.

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