by M. J. Haag
“Smart. If you want, I can help you.”
“You can?”
“Sure. We can have date dinners at my house, and you can practice on me.”
Stomach twisting and desperation clawing at my insides, I stepped closer to him and ran my fingers over his forearm.
“Anything you want to practice,” I whispered, my voice surprisingly steady.
His pupils dilated, and from my peripheral, I saw the front of his pants twitch.
“But I need something in return,” I continued.
His expression fell slightly.
“Hannah, I cannot return the bottle to you.”
“Not the same one, but you can get others. And you can control how much I drink so you know I’m not poisoning myself.”
His hand closed over mine, his fingers trailing over my skin before he gently removed my touch.
“I cannot help you,” he said softly. “Merdon is your best hope. I am sorry, Hannah.”
My lower lip trembled.
“Merdon is my best hope?” I let out an angry, harsh laugh. “Merdon isn’t trying to help me; he’s trying to kill me. And I wouldn’t be the first one he’s killed, would I?”
Turning my back on Tor’s shocked expression, I found Merdon watching me from several houses down. I hated him so badly.
“What was your friend’s name again?” I asked over my shoulder. “The one that Merdon and Thallirin killed?”
“Oelm.”
I faced Merdon.
“Yeah. Oelm.”
If my words hurt Merdon, he didn’t show it. And that made me even madder. Averting my gaze as if he wasn’t there, I headed home, seething and fighting not to throw up.
Sweat coated my skin when I let myself inside and found Emily pacing the living room. Her worried expression turned more so as she watched me take off my jacket. I could imagine how I looked. Like shit because that’s how I felt. I didn’t understand why I was sweating when it had been cold outside. The shaking I was used to popping up on occasion. A drink usually steadied me. But that was out, thanks to Emily.
The nausea was the worst, though. I couldn’t even tell her off for staring at me as I made my way upstairs. Closing myself into my bathroom, I barely made it to my knees in front of the toilet before I emptied what little there was in my stomach.
Again and again, I heaved. The muscles ached from the bruising force. By the time I stopped, I had no energy left in me and collapsed to the floor.
“Hannah?” Emily’s voice came through the door. “Do you need anything?”
A tear slipped from my eyes. She knew damn well what I needed.
“Fuck you. Go away.”
The words were barely more than a rasp from my raw throat. Why couldn’t I just die already?
Oh, right. I hadn’t suffered enough yet.
Chapter Eight
Panic suffocated me, making my heart race and squeezing the air from my lungs.
The moans of the infected rang in my ears, and their rancid smell of decay filled my nose. I ran, knowing we were almost out of time. I ran even as I knew it was pointless.
In front of us, the trees stretched endlessly, providing no protection.
“Hannah,” Katie panted from behind me. “I can’t.”
Her fingers were barely grasping mine as I pulled her along. She wasn’t keeping up like she should.
“Keep going,” I said.
I glanced over my shoulder even though I desperately didn’t want to. I already knew what I’d see. Katie’s wide, desperate eyes locked on me, silently pleading for me to help her. The white ring around her lips and the exhaustion pulling at her features.
Behind her, the infected were closer. Less than ten yards now. We were both going to die.
She stumbled.
Her hand started to slip through mine. I tightened my hold, but the weight of her pulled at my arm as she completely lost her footing.
Her wide eyes were still locked on mine.
I knew what was next and screamed.
Screams tore through me, and I flailed violently, trying to pull myself free from the memory.
“Hannah, it’s okay.”
Hands clamped down on my wrists, holding me in place as I opened my eyes and blindly tried to focus on my surroundings. The image of Katie’s eyes didn’t immediately fade, though. I trembled with a force that made my bones hurt.
“It’s okay, Hannah. It’s okay.”
The voice penetrated the pain.
Blinking, I looked up at Emily.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I said thickly.
“Why? You’d rather stay flopping around in your own vomit?” She stood and held out a hand to me.
I slapped it away and stayed right where I was, giving her my answer.
She shook her head and started for the door.
“I hope you didn’t throw away your earplugs,” I said before she got too far, “because things are going to get intense. Unless I’m a considerate roommate and just try to stay awake all the time, again. I mean, that worked out well last time. A little sleep deprivation is way healthier than a few drinks, right?”
She paused in the doorway, her back to me. Instead of having the guts to admit she’d screwed me over and apologize, she left the bathroom.
I lifted myself from the floor and peeled off the clothes that I had indeed vomited on at some point. Not bothering with a shower, I walked back into my room and grabbed something clean, dressed, and sat on the chair in the corner of my room. It was dusk. Time for sleep.
I refused to do that to myself.
Instead, I stared at the stars through the curtain and tried to think of nothing. The memory was too close to the surface to allow that, though. Thoughts of my mother crept in. After seeing Dad shuffle through the yard, she’d wanted to go out to him. Katie and I had pleaded with her to stay and watch first. Together, the three of us witnessed what an infected would do if they found us. It’d only taken one sound from our neighbor for Dad to turn on him.
Hands shaking, I covered my ears and hummed, trying to drown out the cries for help that still echoed in my ears. How hadn’t I known then what I knew now? I couldn’t help anyone. Not even myself.
Unable to take the idleness, I stood and paced the confines of my room. The movement didn’t exorcise the restless energy boiling inside of me or the agitation. The space was too small to do that. So, I left my room and went downstairs, drifting from room to room, looking for something to soothe me. But there was nothing. It wasn’t until every door and drawer in the kitchen gaped open that I realized more than my precious bottles were missing. So were the knives and the forks.
The fucking forks.
I slammed every single door hard, and Emily came racing downstairs, barely awake.
“What’s wrong?” I asked with fake concern before she could utter the question. “Can’t sleep?”
“Hannah, you’re not even trying.”
I wished I had some kind of mental power that could squish her head.
“Trying what? To sleep? Been there, done that. Trying to mind my own business and be as amiable as possible in this hell we call real life? Also tried that. Apparently, I wasn’t minding my own business well enough and, for some reason, you decided you could mind it better. How’s that working for you?”
Her gaze shifted behind me for the briefest of moments that I almost didn’t notice.
“I’m going back to bed. Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Enjoy your sleep,” I said, slamming another door angrily.
I turned to glare out the kitchen window. As I’d guessed, Merdon stood in the shadows of our backyard. I flipped him off and pulled the shade.
By dawn, the odd bouts of sweats were more infrequent, and I felt less queasy. My stomach hurt like a bitch, though; and I couldn’t stop thinking about finding something to drink. Throwing on my jacket, I went to the one place I hadn’t had the time to try yesterday before I got sick.
James called for me to ent
er after the first knock. He was still in his long underwear and white t-shirt and just reaching his chair when I let myself in.
My gaze flicked to the cabinet, and my mind raced with scenarios as I focused on him once more.
“Morning, Hannah,” he said sleepily.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I said. “Would you have any spare coffee you’d be willing to share? We’re out, and I’ve had a rough night.”
James exhaled slowly, really studying me. Then, without a word, he hoisted himself out of the chair and went straight to the liquor cabinet.
“We both know you’re not here for coffee, sweetheart.”
My mouth watered shamelessly as he took a glass and poured a bare fingerful of brandy into it.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll help take the edge off. I warned Emily that cutting it out completely might be rough on you.”
He held out the glass. I didn’t immediately take it. I was too angry that Emily had been here and worse, talked to James and Mary about me.
“Did she talk to you before or after she had Merdon sneak into my room and steal my things?”
“Honey, they removed the alcohol so you wouldn’t be tempted. They’re trying to help.”
“Before or after?” I repeated angrily.
“Before. She wanted to make sure we knew what she was doing and supported her so we wouldn’t undermine any progress you made.”
They were all in on it.
I wished I could take the glass and throw it at him, but I couldn’t. I needed that meager drink too badly. Angrily swiping it from his grasp, I gulped the liquid and slammed the cup back on the cabinet.
“He didn’t just take my bottles. The way they are infringing on my rights wouldn’t stand in the old world. How can you support what they’re doing?”
“It’s not the old world anymore,” he said gently.
“No kidding. I barely noticed.”
“And Mary and I care about you too much to continue excusing what we’ve been watching happen over these past few weeks.”
“Then don’t watch.”
I left the house in a righteous rage, and almost face-planted right into Merdon’s chest.
“Psychopath. Get a new hobby.”
He caught me by the back of my neck and pulled me close. I’d been close to my share of fey, thanks to drinking games. But usually, when they were almost nose to nose with me, there was a healthy dose of desire in their eyes. The hard glint in Merdon’s eyes did not hint at desire. No, there was a lot of anger there.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I tried ducking out of his hold and pulling his hand off me, but his grip was iron.
He inhaled deeply.
“You drank something,” he all but growled in my face.
“No shit. Just a little FYI, I’m an adult and can do what I want.”
“No drinking.”
“No being a fucking dick.” I stomped on his foot, and he didn’t even flinch.
“Do not do that again.”
The growled warning sent a shiver of real fear through me. Merdon wasn’t playing by the normal fey rules. He wasn’t listening, wasn’t being nice, and above all, wasn’t manipulable like the rest.
So, I did what I’ve come to do best.
I screamed in his face. A panicked, someone-is-ripping-my-arm-off-and-going-to-rape-me-with-it kind of scream.
His face registered complete shock before I started struggling in earnest.
“Let me go! Let me go! I don’t want this!”
It took him two seconds to release me and step back.
I shot him a brief, triumphant look before I bolted with a look of fear on my face for all the fey bystanders who’d come running. Adding to the effect, I glanced back as if afraid Merdon would give chase. He didn’t. The angry way he strode toward James and Mary’s place didn’t bode well for the old couple. Not my problem, though.
Focusing on the road ahead of me, I retraced my route. The fey watched my passing without interfering, their friendly waves absent. My world had irrevocably changed again. I could feel that certainty in my bones, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
I reached the house and hesitated, a weight of dread settling into me. I couldn’t go back in there for another day of nothing but my own thoughts.
Standing in the wide open, I suddenly felt so stifled I couldn’t breathe.
The curtain in the front window moved, and I saw Emily looking out at me. Worry pulled her features.
Turning my back on her, I walked off again. There had to be something for me within these walls. Something that would take away the pain that lived and breathed inside of me, a beast with claws that tore me apart from the inside when I let my guard down.
I ambled toward the storage shed, which was really a house that was used to store supplies, already knowing that I wouldn’t find any alcohol in there. Desperation had me opening the door, regardless. I walked through the aisles of racks in the living room, not really seeing the shelves overflowing with food. Farther in, a spare bedroom was being used for toiletries. My eyes lingered on a tube of toothpaste then lifted to the mouthwash above it.
That dread twisted inside of me more firmly. Was I so desperate?
My hands shook, and tears wet my cheeks as I helplessly reached for my salvation and possibly my death. I wasn’t sure which I was hoping for when I uncapped the bottle and took my first drink. It burned in a different way, and I coughed before taking another gulp.
My stomach revolted slightly, and I burped mint.
I looked down at the bottle in my hands. How had I gotten here? When had I sunk low enough to drink mouthwash? I thought of the moment on the roof and had my answer. When I’d stepped off, that had been me giving up.
I was good at giving up, I thought bitterly.
Lifting the bottle to my lips, I took another drink as I cried. A scratch of noise was my only warning before the door opened in the main room. I capped the bottle, quickly replaced it on the shelf, and scooped up the box at my feet. Tampons. Perfect.
Moving away from those supplies, I picked up pads and some toilet bowl cleaner. How long had it been since I’d had my last period? I frowned, trying to remember, but since the RV rescue, my days all just seemed to blur together. It couldn’t have been that long ago, could it?
“What are you doing, Hannah?” Merdon asked from behind me.
I turned and found him a healthy distance away. Maybe I couldn’t manipulate him, but it seemed he might be trainable. It gave me hope.
“I’m trying to figure out when I had my last period. I think I’m overdue.”
He tilted his head at me. His expression didn’t give a lot away, but I didn’t need it to know he didn’t believe me.
“Let me guess. You’re trying to figure out if I’m lying? I’m not. That’s what I was thinking, and I really am not sure. Now, are you trapping me in here or are you going to let me keep shopping?”
He stepped to the side, and I held my breath as I walked past, hoping he wouldn’t smell mouthwash on me.
I pretended to consider what was on the shelves as my mind raced. Thanks to Emily and Merdon, I’d have a hard time finding supplies in Tolerance. James’s liquor cabinet was out since he was always home. Even if they both left, there were too many fey roaming around. And the big grey idiots were too willing to listen to Merdon instead of helping me out anymore.
Briefly, I considered Cassie’s again.
“What are you looking for?” Merdon asked from behind me.
“Nothing and anything, all at the same time. Can’t you go be someone else’s pain in the ass for a while? There’s no damn booze here to tempt me.”
He didn’t answer, and I didn’t turn to look at him. Knowing the only way to get rid of him was to be done, I put a bunch of random shit in the box then started for the door.
The ass reached around me and plucked the box from my arms.
“What the hell? Now I’m not allowed food and toiletries?”
Humiliation flamed my cheeks.
“I drink because I don’t want to suffer, idiot. I wouldn’t drink that.”
He said nothing, just continued to stare at me.
“You know what? Fuck you, and fuck the supplies.” I tossed the box to the floor. “I don’t need them.”
I felt like I was constantly turning my back on him and storming off. Why in the hell couldn’t he get the message and leave me alone already?
He wasn’t the only thorn in my side.
Emily opened our front door before I reached it.
“Are you hungry? I made some mac and cheese for lunch.”
I gave her a cold glare as I passed her.
“Save it for your new best friend, Merdon. He’s right behind me.”
And he had been--the entire way back to the house. But when I glanced back, he wasn’t following me inside. He stood on the snow-covered lawn, his arms crossed as he met Emily’s sad stare.
“Why don’t you just screw already and fuck each other over instead of me?”
Emily’s mouth dropped open as she shot me an angry look.
“There’s no need to be mean,” she said, closing the door.
“How old am I, Emily?”
“Eighteen,” she said.
“An adult, then. Yet, you and that grey-skinned, cave-dwelling reject are treating me like a child incapable of making my own decisions.”
“Because you are.”
“Why? Just because you disagree with my choices doesn’t mean you have the right to make them for me. That kind of shit is why people start fighting at Christmas dinner. Better yet, Hitler, that’s how wars start. Do you want a war?”
“No. I want you safe, Hannah.”
“No one is fucking safe, Emily. When are you going to get that through your fucking head?” I calmed myself slightly and shook my head at her. “I pity you for your delusions. I might want to drink the truth away, but at least I acknowledge it’s there.”
“That’s why you drink? Because you think you’re not safe?”
I threw my hands in the air.