ECSTASY

by KV Rose

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I dig my nails into his arms, and he laughs as he turns back to me.

  I’m going to die.

  He’s going to kill me.

  And in this moment, something occurs to me, and I don’t know if it’s a gift from God, right before I take my last breath, or if I really am stupid, but I can’t stop the thought that blares in my head like a warning too late. Rihanna Martinson didn’t drown. He killed her. I don’t know how or why or when, but he did it.

  I dig my nails in deep enough to draw blood, but his smile just widens.

  “You gonna break up with him, baby girl?”

  No. No I’m fucking not. But I’m not stupid. I’m not a stupid bitch. I nod my head.

  He presses his nose to mine but doesn’t let go. I feel myself sagging further against the counter, the blood leaving my head.

  “And then you’re gonna be mine to fuck, huh? Just mine?”

  I nod again.

  “Because no one else will fuck you like I can and you know that, don’t you?”

  My eyes flutter closed but I still nod.

  “And you’re never going to run from me again, right?”

  Another weak nod.

  He loosens his grip and I take a gulp of air, filling my lungs on a gasp. His fingers trail down my collar, splayed against my skin.

  “You’re so beautiful, baby girl.”

  I’m still taking in air, but the sting in my back, the cuts on my feet, it’s shooting fire through my body.

  “Eli,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I need...”

  His eyes rake over my body before coming back to rest on my face. “Me,” he finishes, “you need me.” His mouth lands on mine, his tongue sweeping past my lips.

  “No,” I whimper around his mouth, “it hurts...”

  He pulls back, staring at me, and then a smile curves on his lips. He reaches into his hoodie pocket, letting go of me.

  I exhale, but then he holds up a baggie with something off-white in it, and a lighter in one hand. He reaches into his other pocket, murmuring to himself.

  “Ah. Yes.” He pulls out a syringe. “I’ve got something to help you, baby girl. I just need a spoon.”

  My mouth goes dry as Eli opens up a drawer, slams it closed. Opens another one. He pulls out a spoon, grinning at me as he sets the syringe down on the counter.

  “Eli...”

  He ignores me, dumps some of the powder into the spoon, his movements sure. Steady. He sets the spoon down, grabs the syringe and fills it halfway with water from the sink, drops it into the spoon.

  “Eli. No.” I step back, the blood seeming to freeze in my veins. He wouldn’t.

  And that can’t be…

  He flicks the lighter, heating the contents in the spoon to a liquid.

  “Eli.”

  He just smiles wider, pulls something else from his pocket. A cotton ball.

  He soaks up the heroin in the cotton, then plunges the syringe into the cotton, pulls it out and drops the cotton ball.

  He turns to me, syringe in hand.

  “No.”

  He wouldn’t actually…

  I take another step back. I’ll never be able to run to the door before he gets there. I won’t be able to stop him. Not by running away. Not by fighting back.

  “Eli.”

  “Yeah, baby girl?” He advances toward me.

  “No.”

  I back up into the wall that Kylie’s room is on. But Kylie isn’t home. And Alex is at the coast.

  Eli grabs my arm.

  “N-no.” I try to snatch it back. “Why would you want me to—”

  “I want to give you the best high, Zara. Better than those little pills you’ve been doing. This will be like ecstasy, and not the fucking club drug, baby.” He yanks my hand forward, places the needle over a blue vein, prominent against my pale, thin skin.

  “This is the real thing, Za.”

  “No.” I look into his eyes. But I don’t see anything there. Nothing but mania. Insanity. Cruelty. “Eli. Look at me!”

  “Careful, these veins are so delicate, baby girl.”

  I try to yank my hand again, but I feel it.

  A pinch.

  His smile widens as he plunges the needle in.

  My mouth falls open, fear seizing me.

  Fear. And something else.

  My feet feel heavy beneath me. I hear the needle drop.

  My breathing slows.

  There’s a warm blanket covering my body and Eli doesn’t seem so bad. The glass in my feet, my back, none of that is so bad.

  This is euphoria. This is...

  I fall forward and Eli catches me. “That’s it, baby girl.”

  Warmth spreads through my chest. My limbs. My toes. My face.

  “That’s it.” He rubs my back, holding me close. “Does it feel good, baby?”

  Good? This is more than good. This is...this is ecstasy.

  “Does it feel good now?”

  46

  Eli

  She’s so beautiful. In the passenger seat of the 370Z, her mouth open as she leans against the door, snoring softly. She’s so damn beautiful.

  The sun is coming up now and after holding her on the couch in her living room all night, I can say that was the best part of this entire fucking year.

  Cleaning up the glass on the floor of her apartment, picking it out of the bottom of her feet and that sliver in her back that went through her shirt…not so great. Despite what she probably thinks, I didn’t really want to hurt her.

  I’ve never wanted that.

  When I first laid eyes on her when Alex brought her to our house, I knew I’d do anything to get her. To keep her. To have her. She was exactly what I wanted, and unlike every other girl who tried to own me, who tried to get me to own them, she was content to do whatever the fuck she wanted to do.

  And what she wanted was what I wanted too.

  But she just didn’t know it. She didn’t know Alex wasn’t the one for her.

  And then Rihanna failed in getting Zara to dump him, and then she was on me. Rihanna wanted me, but I didn’t fucking want her.

  She was a means to an end.

  But I dealt with Rihanna.

  And I’ll deal with Alex too.

  As I turn into my driveway, Zara still snoring softly in the passenger seat, I know I’ve already dealt with the most important thing. I’ve already made sure she knows she’s mine. That the time for games is over because I’m tired of watching everyone else fuck around with her. I got what I wanted, making Alex watch me fuck her, and now I’m done with that shit.

  She’s mine now.

  47

  Alex

  It’s Saturday morning before I get to her apartment.

  Saturday morning, and the sun is almost up, but I drove as fast as I could. I tossed and turned in my bed at my parents’ house after dealing with Mom’s lawyers and Dad blowing up and walking out.

  I tried to let it go. I told myself she might’ve just fallen asleep. I told myself that she’s okay. That she’s been exhausted. That I trust her, and she’s fine.

  But I couldn’t sleep, and I don’t exactly trust her, so I drove.

  I run up the stairs to her apartment, wishing she had a fucking car so I could know if she was here. She won’t answer her phone, hasn’t answered my texts since she told me she missed me too.

  And that was it.

  I knock on her door, softly at first.

  No one answers.

  Kylie isn’t here. I know, because I called her, too.

  Nothing. No one comes to the door. I don’t hear movement inside.

  I knock again, louder this time. I wonder if her neighbors will come outside, but I hear music thumping from one of these apartments, so I’m not too worried about it. Fuck, even if they were all dead asleep, I don’t give a shit.

  I slam my hand so hard against the door the third time, it just fucking pops open.

  What the fuck?

  She
would have locked it. If she was okay, if she was here, that door would be locked and even I couldn’t have broken the lock by knocking on the door.

  I step inside.

  It’s dark as shit, and I’m worried she’s asleep and I’m going to scare the hell out of her, but she would have locked that door.

  And I smell it then, when I step further inside, closing the door softly at my back.

  I smell the sharp tang of alcohol, and my stomach sinks.

  I feel sick, and I put my hands on my knees, closing my eyes as my stomach heaves. I swallow it all back down.

  Opening my eyes, I try to get myself the fuck together.

  It’s just alcohol, I tell myself. It’s just alcohol and that’s okay. It could be worse. I should’ve taken those bottles, I should’ve dumped that shit out, but it could be worse. It could be worse and maybe she’s just asleep in bed. Maybe she just drank too much and we can deal with that. We can fix that.

  I flip on the light in the kitchen and blink, my eyes adjusting.

  And then my head starts spinning.

  There are bottles of alcohol lined up on the counter—thankfully, some still full—and there’re no cups or shot glasses or anything that would indicate she had a party but there’s something red on the floor.

  My mouth goes dry as I step closer, squatting down to look.

  There’s an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

  That looks like blood.

  Just a drop, but what’s worse is the floor is faintly wet, like it was just cleaned or…

  I stand to my feet, the room spinning around me. I head to the little pantry, open up the door and grab the white trash can, yanking it out so I can see inside of it better as I flip the lid off.

  I heave again, stepping back from the can.

  There’re broken bottles inside, and paper towels with more blood. And something else.

  There’s something else, almost hidden beneath a bloody paper towel, but not quite.

  Not fucking quite.

  There’s a fucking needle in this trash can.

  I can’t think. I can’t even hear anything but a loud ringing in my ears. I storm down to her room, screaming her name, kicking her door open and flicking on her light.

  She fucking wouldn’t.

  She wouldn’t.

  She would never.

  “Zara!”

  I yank back her covers but she’s not there.

  She’s not fucking here.

  I get home in no time. The sun is an orange blip on the horizon, the air is cool when I hop out of my Jeep and slam the door shut. I barely notice any of it. I unlock the front door of the house, flick on the lights as I slam it closed.

  My gaze goes to the stairs. I’m going to drag Eli’s ass out of bed and he’s going to help me look for her. I don’t care that he’s a sick fuck, I don’t care that we aren’t talking anymore. He’s going to fucking help me.

  I already called her mother, found her number online, but she didn’t answer. She probably sleeps with her phone on silent like every other dumb fuck on this planet.

  I debated calling the police, but I’m not sure that would help yet. Not yet.

  I go to storm up the stairs, calling Eli’s name, but then I freeze, something catching my eye down the hall and through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen.

  The tiki torches are on, the soft underwater lights making the blue surface dance with the light breeze. And the sun is rising ever-so-slowly. All of that gives me enough light to see by, but I still don’t believe it.

  I take a step past the stairs, down the hall.

  I feel like I’m walking through concrete. I feel like I’m going to faint. I feel like I won’t make it to the end of the fucking hall.

  There’s no way.

  Maybe I’m delirious because I didn’t get any sleep. I’m seeing things because I’m so tired and dealing with Mom’s shit and Dad’s bullshit and thinking about Zara and feeling guilty for leaving her.

  No, this can’t be what I think it is.

  That can’t be her, lying on her back on a beach towel, stripped down to nothing but her underwear, her hands resting on her stomach.

  And that can’t be Eli, sitting beside her, his feet in the water as he stares at her.

  That can’t fucking be what I’m seeing.

  I try to swallow but it’s like my throat is made of sandpaper. My heart is slamming around so hard in my chest, it’s actually aching. This isn’t right.

  None of this is right.

  Did she go to him? Is that what this is?

  But it’s fucking not even six in the morning. And that alcohol, and the fucking needle…

  I clench my hands into fists and walk down the hall, forcing my steps to be steady and even. Forcing myself not to run. I can’t run.

  I can’t run.

  I get to the sliding glass door and neither of them look up. I think I see Eli’s mouth moving, like he’s talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

  I realize there’s a small, circular speaker next to Zara.

  Music is playing.

  I recognize it, because it’s something I introduced Eli to.

  Memory, the acoustic version by Dear Agony.

  What the hell. What the hell. What the fucking hell.

  I reach for the handle of the door, take another deep breath, but it doesn’t help. It feels like all the oxygen has left my brain.

  I pull the door open.

  Eli stops talking, and he turns to look at me.

  Zara picks her head up, frowning my way.

  Then Eli’s lips curve into a slow smile. For a moment, I’m frozen by that smile. It makes my stomach churn. I don’t know what the fuck it means.

  And then he says, “I was wondering how long it’d take you to get here.”

  And I fucking lose it.

  48

  Zara

  Everything still feels strangely warm and oddly fuzzy, but I sit all the way up as Alex charges at Eli, knocking them both over into the shallow end of the pool.

  The creepy music that Eli put on for me is still playing and I can only watch, transfixed as Alex and Eli both go under, and then both pop back up.

  I draw my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. I’m shivering, my nose is running, and I know it’s cold but it’s not that cold. I know I should yell at them, tell them to stop. I know I should fucking do something, but I don’t know what to do.

  I don’t know what to do and my brain is still trying to process what Eli did. The words he told me before Alex came storming out here.

  That he loved me.

  That he was sorry.

  That we couldn’t do that again.

  That he was going to take care of me.

  I lift up my hand.

  My veins are stark against my pale skin and there’s a slight bruise already, where he injected me with…my brain can’t hold a thought.

  “You motherfucker.” That’s Alex’s voice, and he’s trying to push Eli under. He’s trying to push him under the water as they wrestle in the shallow end, a tangle of arms and anger and water spraying on the surface. “You stupid motherfucker.”

  He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know what he did.

  He doesn’t know.

  Eli laughs. He just laughs, and it sends a chill down my spine. I pull my knees in closer, resting my chin on one.

  Maybe they’ll just kill each other. Maybe they’ll just fucking kill each other and I can sleep again and go home and pretend none of this happened. Maybe their bodies will be at the bottom of this pool.

  Eli steps back, shoving Alex off him. He backs up on the stairs, gripping the railing. The same one I was lying beside when he shoved me under water, holding me down.

  Alex pulls his shirt over his head, throws it off to the side of the pool, opposite me. My tired eyes take in his tan muscles, his tall, lean frame.

  Eli is still laughing, grippin
g that railing. He has a white t-shirt on, and it’s soaked, sticking to his every muscle.

  “You think she actually wants you?” he taunts Alex, his voice cold. “You think that this week actually meant something to her?”

  Alex’s gaze narrows, but he turns to look at me, because he’s unsure. And I’m not sure what he sees in my expression, but I see his face fall. His lips part, and the tension seems to leave his body as he turns to face me more fully.

  “Zara,” he whispers. The music has stopped, and a strange silence settles over their backyard. The sun is rising, bathing us in orange and yellow.

  I glance at Eli, but he is watching Alex with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

  He’s a fucking psychopath.

  Maybe I knew that from the very beginning. When he showed up at my apartment for no reason. Maybe that’s part of why I liked him.

  That’s why girls like assholes, I think to myself. There’s something appealing about being with a man who does not give a single fuck about anything. Anything but you.

  But what about when he ruins you?

  What then?

  “Tell me it isn’t true,” Alex pleads with me, his voice cracking.

  I run my hand over the back of my nose, force myself to meet Alex’s gaze. He’s so beautiful. He’s so damn beautiful.

  He doesn’t know the truth.

  He doesn’t know what Eli told me. He told me he put Rihanna up to ruining me and Alex. He told me that he was the reason she kissed him after practice. He told me it wasn’t enough, and then she wanted him, and he didn’t want her.

  He wanted me.

  “Did you kill her?” I asked him. “Did you hold her under?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t need to. When I pushed her, that’s all I had to do. She killed herself, Zara. She drowned herself.”

  “It was always going to be him, wasn’t it?” Alex suddenly demands, sending a spray of water toward me. I gasp, shivering.

  I can’t get the words out. I can’t speak.

  Alex wades through the water toward me. “It was always going to be fucking him. You two…” He turns to glare at Eli, who is glaring right back. “You two are fucking unbelievable. You two are fucking…psychos. You’re fucking insane. Was this always a fucking game?” He turns back to me, his hands gripping the concrete ledge of the pool.