Page 94 of Deliverance

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before lifting the pills up to my mouth, pouring them in before raising the flask. I wash the pills down with a generous gulp of vodka, wincing as the burn pushes the chalky pills down my throat.

When my mouth is empty and the burn from the alcohol travels down my throat, I know it won’t be long now.

Laying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling, hyperaware of every nerve and every cell in my body. A chill runs through me, but I don’t feel cold. I feel…numb, and I’m so goddamn tired of feeling numb.

I used to be afraid of death, terrified even. Only now have I realized there are so many more things to be afraid of. There are so many things worse than death. Death is the end, there is no denying it, but that’s the best part. It’s the end. It’s over. Nothing bad will ever happen again. No more pain or hurt or abuse. It’s done.

I’m not sure how long I lay there for. Long enough for my heartbeat to slow, my breathing becoming more and more shallow until it all just…stops and I slip away.

Finally.

Peacefully.

I’m free.

Chapter Thirty Five

Maggie

I get a feeling. Don’t ask me to explain it, I couldn’t if I wanted to. It’s just…a feeling.

Maryia and I are currently wrapped around each other, watching a movie in my bed, when I sit up. She frowns, looking at me.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I just…give me a second,” I say as I slide out of bed. I walk over to my desk, grabbing my phone before pulling up Bridgette’s number. I contemplated deleting it a million times, but for some reason, I didn’t.

When I hit call, it rings and rings and rings before going to voicemail. I’m ready to set the phone down when I try again. The line rings and rings and rings before voicemail once again. That feeling blooms into one I can actually name: dread.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m rifling through my desk, grabbing the master key card I copied from Ronan’s when I swiped in a few weeks ago.

Sorry, Coach. You never know when you need an all access pass to any room in the school.

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I jog out of the room.

I hear Maryia attempt to follow me, but I get in the elevator too quickly, jamming my finger on the up button. My leg bounces as it takes an ungodly amount of time to go up one fucking floor before I’m running. Sprinting.

I don’t know why I feel like something is wrong. I don’t know why I feel like it has something to do with Bridgette. Maybe because she’s all I’ve been able to think about for the last three days. She looked so hollow at Liam’s induction celebration, like a shell of who she used to be. The way she watched me, stared at me. It broke something deep inside me.

Maryia and I didn’t speak for a whole day before she showed up at my door ten hours ago, sobbing and apologizing for losing her shit on me. She told me she only did it because she’s jealous. She doesn’t like thinking that anyone else has had me. I wanted to tell her that it was an unrealistic expectation, but honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to fight. I just wanted to have a chill day with my girlfriend.

Now…I don’t know.

Stopping outside Bridgette’s door, I wave the key card over it. It’s very possible she isn’t even here. She could be with Thomas; she seems to be spending all her time with him lately.

When the door opens, my heart is pounding. Worst case scenarios flashing in my head. Please don’t be in here, please don’t be in here, please don’t….

I can feel the strength leaving my body as my knees give out. Oh my god. No. Fuck. NO.

Scrambling over to her, I see her laying on her bed. At first glance, she looks asleep, peaceful. Or at least she would if it wasn’t for her limp hand barely gripping that silver flask, while her other clutches an empty orange pill bottle. Grabbing the bottle from her hands, I read the label.

Oxycodone.

For her hand? Bridgette, what the fuck?

My hand moves to her neck to search for a pulse, my stomach bottoming out to the floor when I feel nothing. For a moment, I completely freeze as I look down at my beautiful girl. Her sleek black hair is parted perfectly, the strands fanned neatly around her head like she’s ready for a photoshoot. Her skin is flawless as always and those bright red lips…

No. This is not how this will happen. This is not how she goes, this is not how we…

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