Page 52 of Antidote

“Stop,” Hunter breathes, scrunching his eyes. “Stop talking.”

“No.” I grab his face with one hand, squeezing his cheeks in what I’m sure is a painful grip, and he looks at me. His eyes are so green today, a deep forest green. And they’re dilated, taunting me.

“I didn’t kill her,” I say hoarsely, my voice cracking. “Even if it feels like I did.”

His hand comes up to wipe tears I didn’t even realize were falling, and I relish in his touch. “You’re the reason she was in that car.”

“I know,” I sob, my shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry.”

His lower lip trembles and he catches it between his teeth to stop the movement, further breaking my heart. He doesn’t want to shatter in front of me since he doesn’t want me to put his pieces back together. He wants to keep hating me until the end of our days.

“Why were you high?” he asks me, his voice so low it’s hard to hear.

“I was always high.”

“No.” Hunt searches his eyes, finding nothing but pain. “You were more intoxicated than usual.”

“I took several pills,” I reply, remembering how out of it I was. I had no notion of time, and my limbs felt so heavy I couldn’t even open the car door. “I usually only ever took two at a time.”

“Why?” His brows furrow in confusion. “Why would you take that many?”

“It made it easier.”

The puzzled look on his face is comical. How the fuck does he not see it? I truly don’t understand why he’s so fucking blind. “What was easier?”

“Being around you,” I reply. “Being around you yet not being able to have you was torture. A slow death. To have you this close…” I cup his face again and lean in, brushing my lips against his in an almost kiss. “But not being able to taste you—to keep you. I’d rather die than go through it again. Which is why you need to get the fuck out.” I motion towards the door. “Let me do this shit alone.”

“No,” Hunter says firmly. “I’m staying.”

“You scared I’ll die?” I smirk. “I’m fine, Hunter.”

I shut my eyes and try to enjoy the high, taking his silence as defeat. He knows I’m more than okay right now, floating on a cloud. And if he’d just shut the fuck up, I could enjoy how I’m feeling right now. Just as I’m about to fall asleep, I hear him say?—

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.” A moment of silence, and then he whispers, “I should’ve been the one in that car with you.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

That’s the last thing I hear myself say before I pass out.

When I woke up, Hunter was still by my side. I came to the realization he was going to stick around until my high wore off.

And I don’t know how to feel about it.

It had been a long time since I had Oxy.

I had been clean for four months.

I’m bent over the toilet, dry heaving the lack of food in my stomach. It’s officially been twenty-four hours since the high wore off, and now I realize I’m experiencing withdrawals all over again. Fever, chills, the whole nine yards. I’m fucking miserable—another reminder as to why I didn’t want to use again, being that I know I’m going to have to quit at some point.

And quitting? The only thing that would make it worth it, is having Hunter. He’s my antidote, the one thing that fights off the venom and puts me back together. The only one who can get rid of the poison inside of me and not make me crave it. For as much as I crave the pills…I crave him more.

I throw up again, hugging the toilet as my stomach contracts painfully.

Goddamn it.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my nostrils flare as I take a deep, slow breath. I feel Hunter’s looming presence. Is it not enough that he did this to me? Is he here to gloat or make fun of me? Because I can’t deal with it right now. Not when I’m?—

Bile rises to the back of my throat, and I puke again, breathing hard as tears escape my eyes. Slow, cautious footsteps get closer, and I pull away from the toilet as the nausea subsides again. I don’t even acknowledge him. Instead, I hug the toilet and rest my head on my arm. I need to rest before doing this all over again, and I consider lying on the tiled floor.

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