longer existed. Despite my gasping, nothing mitigated the burn of my lungs or the anguish of my body.
My monster kept adding to my pain, livid that I'd subdued it and allowed it to descend into the emotional waste that my well contained. When it stared at me with narrowed eyes and dragged its claws through the vine-covered surrounding of its home, I cried out and clutched my stomach. The cruel twist of its mouth sent a shiver through me, driven by a spike of icy hot fear.
I need something.
My eyes opened to find Grim Grouping Mannix crowding around me, all of them sitting up in my bed and observing me with various states of alertness. Lurching forward, I tried to slide towards the end of the mattress. I had to get to my tabs, my alcohol, anything.
“What are you doing?” Axton asked with a crackle to his voice that I might have found cute at some other point.
I didn't acknowledge him. Instead, I dropped onto the floor, banging my shoulder and hip in the process. My hands constantly explored, patting around despite knowing that nothing remained there.
When I could finally push myself up, I only made it to my hands and knees. Even that proved to be almost more than I could bear, especially when my monster punished me anew. With bleary eyes, I scanned my room, determined to locate anything helpful. My cloak lay crumpled on the floor in front of me, so I crawled towards it.
When I could reach the puddled fabric, I jerked it to me and plunged my fist into one pocket and then the other. Nothing. Spinning, I returned to where I stored my bottles and slapped around, hoping to touch the familiar surface, but again I found nothing.
My parched lips stuck together, and when I forced them apart, my skin tore. A quick swipe of my thick-feeling tongue did little to dampen them, but it did bring the taste of my blood when I gave up.
“Where?” I finally croaked out.
“Where what?” Trace demanded.
“My bottles. Where?”
“I threw them out,” he spat as he stood.
“Why?” I moaned.
My shaky arms gave out, and I let myself crumple. Curling into a ball didn't lessen my pain, so I jerked into a straighter position, hoping it would help. It didn't. I rolled, seeking to discover anything that would ease the utter devastation that ripped through me.
I discovered no reprieve, but I spotted Trace looming over me. His nostrils flared and his jaw moved as he ground his teeth together.
“Why?” he asked, his voice scarily quiet. “Because you can't be trusted around them. Because you almost—”
Instead of finishing his explanation, he whirled and stormed out. The sound of destruction followed him as he crossed the gathering room before he slammed the door to his bedroom.
Wait. I began to reach out but jerked my arm back. No, fuck him. I don't need him.
I wouldn't have been able to yell for him if I'd wanted to, anyway. No, the monster chose that juncture to intensify its onslaught. Fire ravaged me, and the roaring carnage felt as though it scorched my very soul. Normally silent, my soul screeched, quivering but powerless to escape. My mouth locked into a parody of a scream, the hurt so great that even my voice couldn't free itself from the accursed torture of my physical body.
It seemed to last eternally, but it was likely only minutes. When it finally lessened, I scoured the room, my eyes searching for Kian. A plea slipped out, and my lip cracked a little more.
He was nowhere to be found, but I saw Axton. Focusing on him, I rolled onto my side and pressed my fist against my stomach, trying to mitigate the torture of the slow dragging claws that left burning slices in their wake.
“Please, Axton. Help me.”
Tears fell. They didn't understand. No one did. Disgust tried to rise, but when another ripple of hurt washed through me, it sputtered and died. Why? Why do I do this? Why won't it just go away?
When I detected nothing but a profound sorrow and a hint of pity in his eyes, I knew his next words before he ever spoke.
Shaking his head, he whispered, “No.” Louder, he asserted his reason. “When we came home, we thought you were dead. Again. Blackness crept into your tether. No.”
“But it hurts, Axton. It hurts so bad. You can control how much, okay? Just a glass. One little glass.”