Page 23 of Antidote

I take a deep breath and swallow the pill dry, lying back on the bed, and then I just…wait for it to hit me. It’s taking forever, until suddenly it’s not.

My body is floating on a cloud of bliss yet sinking into the mattress at the same time. Taking in air, my lungs expand. It’s shallow yet slower. My heart thumps in my ears, a slow drum roll that I can’t ignore. And yet…none of it turns me off. I crave the feeling of numbness. A smile tips up my lips, and I close my eyes, relaxing into the mattress until I swear I fall asleep.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and I try to pry my eyes open, but it feels like they’re stuck together. I stiffen, knowing no one is supposed to be home for a long time. Is it my dad? Lucy? But no, they’re both working at this time. They’re always working.

The bathroom door isn’t locked, so I wait for the inevitable.

I hear as the doorknob turns, but I can’t move. The pill I took is hitting me hard. Harder than I thought it would for just being one. Then again, it is my first time.

Light footsteps make the floorboards creak, and I manage to open my eyes. Hunter is standing next to the bed, searching my face, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. I frown, and he kneels beside me on the bed and pushes my hair away from my sweaty forehead. His eyes bore into mine, and I watch silently as the puzzle clicks into place and he realizes what’s happening. Immediately, his face hardens.

“What did you take, Oliver?”

I flinch and shift in slow motion.

“What did you do, baby?”

My body relaxes into the bed once more, and I smile softly. “Oxy, Hunt.” I groan when he pushes me and lies on his side, facing me. His eyes look worried, and his lips tip down. “It feels really good.”

“Why are you doing drugs?” He frowns. “Did something happen? Is someone…bullying you?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” I seethe, even though it feels like I’m slurring my words. “You know exactly what happened.”

Hunter is silent for a beat, then says, “You need to stop it. For me. For us.”

“There is no us.” I laugh. “You said it yourself. We’re not doing anything.”

“Stop it,” he growls. “Don’t do it again, Oliver.”

I wince at my full name. “Or what?”

The silence is loud, and he exhales roughly. “Or we’re done.”

He begins to get up, but even through my sluggishness, I manage to wrap my hand around his wrist and tug. “We will never be done, Hunt,” I tell him. “You can’t stay away from me even if you wanted to.”

Hunter’s eyes narrow on my face. “Do you even know why I’m here?”

“Why?”

“You stood me up, Ollie.” His voice is hoarse, hurt. “We were supposed to go for our drive. We were supposed to talk.”

“About what?” I raise my eyebrow. “About how you fucked me over? Hurt my feelings?”

“Sorry,” Hunter chokes up. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s done is done,” I say dismissively.

Hunter stays still for what feels like forever, but then he gets up and leaves me behind, going to his room. He slams the door, making the walls rattle. Rather than going after him like I should, I flip over in bed and close my eyes. Letting sleep take me under.

After eight months of being together, it’s just—over.

It's like nothing ever happened, and he doesn’t seem to care. As if he’s not gripping my heart tightly in his fist and choking it. I know it’s my fault, that I shouldn’t have pushed him away that day under the bleachers a few weeks ago, but this is too much. Ollie is scaring me. Not only has he never treated me this way, but he also doesn’t seem to care much that we’re over.

Not that he has said those words. It’s implied though, considering I haven’t been going to his bed and he hasn’t attempted to come to mine. All he cares about now is getting high. It’s sad, really, considering these last eight months…I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. In fact, I’d give my life for eight more months. Although I have a feeling that’s not going to happen.

Every day, he locks himself in his room as soon as he gets home. He has always done that, so Mom and Dad haven’t questioned it. The only difference is that he used to do homework when he got home; now, instead, he just gets high.

I open the door to Ollie’s room, holding the spoon at my side, faltering when he looks up from a sitting position on his bed. He has a pill between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it like it has the answers to all his questions. It sends a shiver down my spine, and my stomach flips. We make eye contact, and he drops his hand, fisting the pill.

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