Page 58 of Pink Poison

I nod, fighting against the rise and fall of the acid in my stomach. The tingling in my hands fades, replacing the sensation with a tremble. Time and space don’t feel real as I stand from the bed, stumbling over my heels. Shakily, I make my way towards the door before mumbling a slurred excuse.

Something is very wrong.

“Stevie,” Creed says. At least I think he does—I can’t tell since it feels like someone shoved cotton balls in my ears.

Walking through the door, the dark atmosphere and low lights make it hard to see where the hell I’m going. I lean against the wall briefly before straightening my spine and dragging my feet forward, hoping like hell that someone else on this floor doesn’t find me in this state. The subtle thumping of music leads me toward the staircase where the hulking bouncer stands like a statue. His head snaps in my direction as I approach the ropes to be let out.

“Locker room,” I rasp.

He gives me a sharp nod before unlatching the rope. My vision blurs with each step, and it feels like I'm walking through a clown house with uneven, moving stairs. I don't know how long it takes until I make it to the second floor, but it doesn't matter when the ground feels like it's moving just like the stairs.

Fuck.

Wisps of black tease my peripherals, teasing my subconscious to swallow me whole as I reach the middle of the floor. My world tilts as my body sways when a small hand grips my wrist. "Stevie," Mae whispers before the darkness takes me.

“It's okay—you're okay. L-Let it out,” Mae’s hushed, tender words shake as she pats my back.

Another clench of my stomach sends me falling forward into the porcelain bowl, forcing me to heave foamy bile and what little remained in my stomach.

How did I get here?

“I saw you stumbling and wanted to make sure you got to the locker room,” she says, answering the question I thought I said in my head.

“Thanks.” I sniffle as I flush the toilet, tempted to go another round in it. “I-I’m okay now.”

"Are yousure?"

I look over my shoulder, met with Mae'siratestare as she takes in my distressed appearance. “Mhm,” I mumble before pasting on my stage smile. I don't want her to worry, not when she has her own shit going on. Something tells me that she would go to bat for me, risk her safety for mine.

She still has some fire in her.

The thought makes me smile a little more naturally.

Her eyes narrow, boring into mine as she speaks, “If you’re sure…”

“I a-am.”

If she notices my stammer, she doesn’t mention it as she turns to leave the stall—exposing the backs of her thighs. It takes all of my restraint to withhold the gasp of horror building in the back of my throat as I see freshlines of bruising on them. It doesn't take much to tell what caused them. Not when the lines are obviously thick, resembling far too closely to a belt.

“I wish I could stay with you—” Her voice breaks while she walks out of the stall, and I wish that I could say it doesn't bother me to hear, but it does. It pulls me back to a brief window of clarity before I blacked out.

My voice broke.

The reminder digs at my stomach, forcing it to clench since I have no more bile left to expel. Pushing past the feeling, I pull myself together as best as possible. I'll fake my way out of here until I make it out. “You should go before someone realizes you're missing on the floor.”

She looks back to me, the fire in her stare still burning strong. "I'll cover your shift tomorrow."

I blink, unsure of what to make of her command. Because that's what it was. There was no suggestion in her tone. It was authoritarian, not Mae; the meek woman I met the other day. No. This wasMrs. Lennon.

"W-Why?" I ask.

"Because you getone day. One day to break," she says calmly despite the anger written over her face. "One day to pack everything into a tiny box and seal it in your mind before someone here turns your pain and suffering into a weapon."

Understanding washes over me. She's giving me the advice she never received. She's helping me in the only way that she can. "One day," I confirm.

Pride takes place of the anger in her stare before she walks away. I find a semblance of strength in the muffled clicking of her heels against the tile floor, enough to pull myself off the floor. I don't know how long it's been since I've been in here, but I hope it was long enough forCreedto have left.

Pushing out of the locker room, I walk onto the second floor. No one bats an eye at me as I strut down the staircase that leads to the first floor.Thank fuck.My platforms click with each step, one more closer to freedomfrom this hellish day.One step, two steps.I'm so close to leaving that I can taste it.

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