| He was sad, so sad and cold. He didn't notice the huge raindrops slamming into his body, nor did he care when a huge truck zoomed by, splashing through a puddle, soaking him to the bone. His feet were numb, and his fingertips tingled. The tears were invisible on his face, having melted into the droplets of rain pelting him mercilessly. He sniffled and choked back a loud sob. Never had he felt so alone, never had his heart hurt this badly. It pained his chest and seared through his whole being. Nothing mattered to him anymore, he didn't care. A car horn blaring in his ear barely shook him, the auto swerving sharply to avoid him as he crossed the street. The misery envolped him like the grim reaper, plunging him deeper into the darkness. His blonde hair clung to his face and his blue eyes were swollen, the whites an erie stain of red. He didn't know where he was headed, and didn't bother to check the street names. Vaguely he remembered the hotel, the best one in the city he assumed. And the club, nothing special about it, just being there. That's all, he didn't recall the sex, couldn't remember the face, just knew the end result had been bad, really bad. He didn't remember loosing control, or hurting anyone, but he had. There was blood, and questions, and faces pale with shock, but no police. From the shadows his saviour jumped at him, taking his money, and pressing comfort into his shaking hand. He was scared, so frightened, and he tucked the glass vial into his pocket, in case, just in case. Lightening ripped open the night sky, and pain coursed through his head, so severe in nature, it dropped him to his knees. It was just a flash, a brief memory of cold bathroom tile beneath his feet, cries of protest, rage in the form of sex, falling back and blood on the floor. Then it was gone, the memory, pushed back into some deep recess of his mind. His hands shook as he pulled the white powder out and inhaled it, barely controlling his sobs long enough to get it down. And so the feeling overtook him, an unknown feeling. He staggered to his feet and squeezed his nostrils, pressing his eyes shut. Suddenly, there was a car, a warm blanket, hands shoving him inside accompanied by hushed voices. He stared blankly, shutting himself down, shivering involuntarily. He saw the faces, but they meant nothing to him. He barely felt his clothes being removed and being dropped into a bed. He still couldn't focus on the faces, but knew the feelings of sadness, and being ashamed were still out in force. His eyes were shut, but sleep wouldn't come. He strained to listen to their voices, normally so comforting, but now oddly scary. "Cocaine? I just don't believe it.......never used drugs, ever........" "Poor Lance..........still shaken........withdrawn, won't speak to anyone.......why Justin attacked him........." "drug test....rohypnal.....don't think either of them knew.....checking the club now" ".....call Lance's sister...........Justin be okay?" "management keeping it quiet.......Lance still bruised.......does Justin know what he did?........not responsible for his actions, but still.........the group will never be the same" The words reverberatted in Justin's mind. Lance hurt? Oh God, not his best friend, he'd hurt him? Why? A terrified scream caught in his throat as he pieced the broken conversations together in his head, and he shook with fear. "group will never be the same....the same....the same" What had he done? |
| THE RAGE by destiny |