Page 188 of Morally Corrupt

"Want this?" I try to squint my eyes to see what he's showing me, but it's kind of blurry at this point.

"What is it?"

"LSD."

"Will it numb the pain?"

"It may." He doesn't need to say anything else. I snatch it from his hand and put it in my mouth.

We keep dancing for a little longer, and I start feeling off. I can't even feel my limbs anymore.

I need to go home.

I don't know how I leave the club, how I walk home, or how I even know where home is. I have very few moments of awareness.

I just know that at some point, I'm back home. I fall on my bed, my eyes open. I see this blue lace covering the walls. I'm so intrigued by it that I trace the intricate design from one end of the wall to the other. My finger draws the form in the air, and I smile at the silliness of it. If only Adrian were alive.

As I trace a lace thread, I suddenly stop when I feel something soft on my fingertip. I frown. I push once. So soft. I push again. And again. Until something grabs my finger.

"B?" The hallucinations have started as I raise my eyes to look into Adrian's face. His beautiful, angelic face. He must be with the angels now, no? Maybe I'm communicating with him in heaven. My mouth drops open in awe at the realization.

Adrian… is an angel.

"You're an angel," I tell him, my hands going to his face, trying to feel him for the last time, even if it's under psychedelic influence.

"You have wings." I point to the white, almost immaterial contour on his back.

"B? What's wrong with you?" His voice is worried as he furrows his brows.

"I'm talking with an angel," I keep on saying.

I jump on him and hug him to my chest, mumbling, "My angel."

That's the last thing I remember.

* * *

I stretch a little and groan aloud. What is this hangover? I swear I've never felt so ill from alcohol in my life. But then I suddenly remember Nikolai's tablet.

Shit… And then more memories come flooding. And with them come the tears.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

My hands clench around the sheets on the bed, and I try to take a deep breath. When I do, I scrunch my nose, smelling food. Food? I don't have any food in my apartment.

My eyes snap open, and I jump out of bed. What if someone had come inside while I was out of it? I take the gun I always have hidden under my pillow and go towards the kitchen. Inside, I spot something that makes me simply drop my weapon.

Am I still hallucinating?

Adrian is inmykitchen, wearing an apron and making pancakes.

"There you are." He turns and gives me a smile.Mally circles his legs, elegantly licking her paws and purring against him.

I'm in motion before I can even think about it, jumping on him and hugging him.

"You're not dead?" I ask, peppering kisses on his face.

"No," he says, amused. "Theodore Hastings is dead. Adrian Barnett is very much alive." It takes me a solid minute to process what he's saying. But when understanding dawns on me, I push him off, and grabbing the fluffy pancakes off the table, I throw them at him.

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