Page 5 of Beautiful Delusions

Well, what a turn today took,Jazzie comments. I grunt in agreement, snuggling down for the deepest sleep I could possibly have in a stranger's bed.

“Rise and shine!” The clanging of a wooden spoon on a saucepan jerks me from a restless dream. I might as well not slept at all, the comedown from the valium hitting me like a ton of bricks. It’s not that I’m an addict depending on my next hit. More like the serenity of a quiet mind is all the more noticeable when it’s absent. The clanging abruptly stops, the pillow ripped away, and the morning light bursting through open curtains sears my retinas.

“Aww, come on, Feisty One, I’ve got a present for you.” I groan at that voice, wishing it was all just a vicious nightmare.The douchebag from the pool lounger. Cracking an eye, I glare at his well-rested boyish charm.

“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood,” I scowl. He merely laughs.

“Suppose you don’t want this then?” Lifting an orange pill bottle, one of my own I recognize, he rattles the two pills sitting in the bottom. I lurch upright, almost headbutting him in the face. Trying to snatch the bottle, he’s fast to jerk it aside, playfulness dancing in his features. His shock of auburn hair seems brighter today, a stunning correlation to the gleam in his eyes.

“Na ah, you need to earn it,” he singsongs. My walls instantly shut down. Suddenly, not even Jazzie could convince me to care less about selling a piece of my soul for a temporary high. It isn’t me who would suffer the consequences, but all of those around me. Crossing my arms, a baggy vest rubs against my nipples, a pair of boxers snuggly fitting around my ass. Wait, who the fuck dressed me while I was passed out? My eyes drop to the hideous, raised scar on my forearm at the same time his do, and I’m quick to hide my arms beneath the covers. Luckily, he doesn’t ask the question passing through his features.

“Breakfast is on the table. We’ve got a full day ahead before you get these,” he shakes the pill bottle again. A noose around my neck, firmly attached to a leash. The rattle lasts in my head long after he’s skipped,literally skipped, out of the room, echoing around the dullness of my senses. Who am I kidding? At this point, there isn’t much I haven’t done in the name of embarrassing myself and claiming back my meds.

Breakfast, as the douchebag called it, is a feast fit for the frat house. He’s sitting at the top end of the table, alongside all those they deem worthy enough to join. Unsurprisingly, there is no spare seat for me.

“Right here, baby.” He pushes back to pat his thigh. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Go to hell,” I scowl, turning for the main door. Hands grab me instantly, the scraping of chairs drowning out my screams as every minion who recently sat quietly eating now drags me towards the head of the table. I’m no match for their strength, but that doesn’t stop me fighting back with Jazzie mentally cheering me on. My limbs flail wildly until I’m ultimately dumped on his lap. The man in question is grinning as widely as Jazzie, who appears leaning across his shoulders. Perhaps I should behave to get my pills back.

I know you feel that bulge as much as I do,Jazzie winks.

“There. That’s not so bad, is it?” The douchebag chuckles to his comrades on either side. Ezra is glaring at me with such disdain I can practically taste it. On the other side, a male sits silently, as if nothing exists except his bowl of fruit, yogurt, and granola. The guy caging me pulls a similar version my way, leaving the platters of steaming freshly baked goods down the other end of the table.

“Eat up,” Ezra barks. I flip him off. A deep vibration resonates against my lower back. Apparently, I’m amusing my captor.

“Or don’t,” he leans forward to breathe into my ear. “Your insolence is the quickest way to make me rock hard.” I balk, making a move to flee. The minions, who have remained stationary at his back, step forward to forcefully hold me in place. Hands pin my wrists beside his thighs, the vest and boxers being pulled in all the wrong directions. Reaching around me, a spoonful of what I can only describe as rabbit food is lifted towards my mouth.

“Open wide like a good girl, and I might fill you with something else.”

“Promises, promises,”Jazzie muses. She settles into Ezra’s lap across the table, picking up a strawberry. She only pauses long enough to spit her gum across the table into Senior Stoic’sbowl and then pops it into her mouth. I watch her in real time, my eyes unfocusing from those glaring my way. I’m insane. Clinically undeniably insane.

“The best of us are,” she smirks. At the same time, the spoon is nudged against my lips. Once, twice. Persistently knocking. Jazzie winks again, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Watching, waiting. I can hear her thoughts loud and clear. Maybe I am insane, but I reckon the best protagonists are. Opening my mouth, the spoon glides in effortlessly. Muesli and bark scrape my tongue, incredibly dry and completely tasteless.

“That’s it, Feisty One,” he praises, stroking my hair. The hands at my wrists relax, and my mouth clamps down around the spoon.Game on.Jerking my chin violently, the metal is torn from his grip. I don’t bother spitting it out, spinning before the douchebag can preempt my next move. Before he can foresee the spoon handle being thrust into his eye with a move, I usually reserve for blowjobs. My fingers are in his crotch next, grabbing for whatever comes to hand first. Squeezing, twisting, yanking. He squeals like a pig in a butcher shop, and I don’t wait around to see if I’ve done any lasting damage.

Flanked by Jazzie, I wriggle through the minion’s grabby hands. The assault of my own mind blurs within the hollers of those scrambling for my agile body, but I’m too busy ducking, skidding across the floor to where Jazzie is beckoning me towards the door. Sweet freedom lies beyond, a paved walkway between luscious green grass. The perfectly smooth tarmac and a short run back to the safety of my dorm.

Five steps from the door, my heart leaps. Three steps, and a smile spreads across my face. One step–blinding pain erupts at the back of my skull. I scream, grabbing for the hair now fisted tight in a meaty hand. Endless dark eyes glare down at me, a never-ending void that makes it impossible to settle on where to look.

“I understand you are new around here,” he growls, and my stomach drops. I recognize that voice. “But it is a privilege to be invited to stay in this house. When you’re given an order, you do not fight. You don’t resist. You sit quietly, eat your damn breakfast, and remember your fucking manners.” Using his grip on my hair, he drags me back to the center of the dining room I hadn’t bothered to look at much until now.

Incredibly high ceilings seem to sparkle beyond crystal chandeliers, every wall and fixture in opulent white. Too clean for a group of young men to live in, too pristine to be used for wild parties. The only colors are soft dashes of gray in the velvet curtains and throughout the furniture. The dining table itself, now I look beyond the plates, is a slab of marble in silver and slate.

I’m held at the far end of the dining room, forced to stare at the douchebag who acts like Lord of the castle, still in his seat at the head of the table with a stupid grin on his face.

“Now, say thank you to Lucas for his kindness.”

I set my jaw, my nostrils flaring. Lucas. The one I was looking for this entire time, who somehow has my med bottles and has taken great pleasure in taunting me. Beyond Lucas’ back, Jazzie appears, wide eyed and shaking her head.Don’t admit defeat.But what am I supposed to do? This isn’t fiction; this is real life. One that’s rapidly being flushed down the toilet, so at some point, I need to admit defeat.

“Thank you, Lucas,” I grit through my teeth. I’m released so fast, I stumble into the open archway, clinging to keep myself upright. When Lucas appears before me, all auburn hair, green eyes, a shit-eating grin, and a mock bow, I let him lead me back to the bedroom, feeling my resolve drain each step of the way. Apparently, during the commotion downstairs, my backpack miraculously appeared. Sitting atop, my clothes from last nighthave been dried and folded neatly. Lucas wrangles his way in as I try to shut the door in his face.

“Don’t get any ideas of going back to bed. First day of classes, and you’ve gained yourself an entourage. We leave in thirty minutes, or I’ll send Kyan back up to drag you out by hair.”

Lucas. Ezra. Kyan. My jailers. Throwing the clothes and Converse into my hands, Lucas shoves me into the adjoining bathroom kicking and screaming. He uses his body to hold the door closed until he manages to lock it, telling me through a slip in the wood he’ll release me once I’m ‘suitably dressed’. I press my forehead against the wall. All of my carefully laid out plans, the prep work I put into ensuring my first day in classes would go as smoothly as possible…wasted.

“What the fuck has my life become?” I quietly groan to Jazzie. When I hunt for her, she’s reclined in the jacuzzi bathtub.

“Quite an adventure, I’d say,” she winks for the last time, disappearing beneath a layer of imaginary bubbles. Well, I can’t argue with that.

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