A/n: To not confuse anybody- last chapter was a friday meaning the cross country meet was wednesday/thursday, so this chapter will be Friday night!

Scarlett POV

By the time I made it to the apartment, the high had settled deep in my bones.

Everything felt... slow. Like I was wading through water, every step just a little too heavy, every movement just a little too delayed. My brain was still floating somewhere above my head, half here, half not, and honestly? I preferred it that way.

Because the second I let it wear off, the second I let reality come back into focus, I was going to feel everything.

And that? That was not an option.

I climbed the stairs to the apartment on autopilot, back aching, ribs burning, my entire body screaming at me to stop moving. My muscles felt too tight, like someone had taken a wrench to my joints and twisted them into something unrecognisable.

But I ignored it.

Because the pain was always there. Always would be.

I just had to keep going.

I reached the door and hesitated for exactly three seconds before slowly pushing it open, just enough to peek my head inside.

The lights were on. The TV was playing some old Western movie at a low volume. And there, slouched on the couch, was my father.

An almost empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table.

His eyes were closed, arms crossed, face slack.

Asleep.

But that didn't mean shit.

Because the thing about my father?

He could snap awake like a goddamn rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike.

And I was not about to be on the receiving end of that tonight.

Nope.

Not happening.

I carefully, slowly, stepped back, easing the door shut before the latch could click too loud. Then I turned and walked right back down the stairs, my body throbbing with every step, my chest screaming at me to just stop moving.

But I couldn't.

Because I had nowhere to go, but I knew one thing for damn sure—

I wasn't staying here.

~~~•~~~

I stood at the bottom of the staircase, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed tight.

Now what?

I could just... wander, I guess. Walk aimlessly until my body gave out. Wouldn't be the first time.

Or—

I glanced at the metal door to Derek's loft.

Maybe he was home.

Maybe he wasn't.

Maybe I could knock and find out.

...But did I want to?

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

I debated with myself for way too long, my brain moving in circles, every thought contradicting itself immediately.

If he's home, I have to talk to him. Do I want to talk?

No.

But if he's not home, then I had just wasted my time.

Also no.

But if I don't check, I'll never know.

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose before I finally just said screw it and knocked.

...And waited.

Silence.

I knocked again.

Nothing.

No shuffling. No footsteps. No annoyed "Who the hell is knocking on my door?"

Derek wasn't home.

I should've expected that.

I stared at the door for a second longer, debating whether I should just sit outside and wait for him, but the thought of just sitting there, alone, doing nothing sounded like the worst thing ever.

So I left.

~~~•~~~

Walking helped.

Sort of.

The cold air bit at my skin, cutting through the warmth of my jacket, but I liked it. It kept me present, kept my mind from floating too far away.

I had no idea where I was going.

But that was the fun part.

Wandering was kind of my thing.

I walked until I found something semi-decent, a small, run-down park with a single creaky swing set with a few kids playing and an empty bench.

Good enough.

I slumped down onto the bench, sighing as I leaned back, staring up at the sky.

I pulled a joint from my pocket, flicked my lighter, and inhaled deep, letting the smoke curl through my lungs before exhaling slowly.

The tension in my body loosened a little more.

Not completely, I wasn't that lucky, but just enough.

I sighed, taking another hit before letting my head fall back against the bench.

The world blurred at the edges.

Everything felt so far away.

Which was good.

I liked it that way.

Because if everything stayed far enough away, if I could keep my mind drifting, keep my body floating, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to think about—

I clenched my jaw.

Nope.

Not tonight.

I inhaled again. Deeper this time. Let the numbness spread.

God, I was so tired.

I could sleep right here. Just melt into this bench and let the universe take me.

What was stopping me?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Except the fact that if I fell asleep out here, I'd probably get kidnapped.

Or arrested.

Or eaten by a coyote.

Wait, were there coyotes in Beacon Hills?

I frowned.

Maybe I should Google it.

Wait.

I didn't have my phone.

Shit.

I sighed dramatically, staring at the sky, trying to will the answers into my brain.

Nothing happened.

Stupid sky.

Useless.

I groaned, rubbing a hand down my face.

This was getting ridiculous.

Maybe I should just head back to Derek's loft and sit outside until he showed up.

Or maybe I should just keep sitting here, contemplating the meaning of the sky until my high wore off.

Either way, one thing was clear—

I was not going home.

~~~•~~~

The hours bled together.

I wasn't sure how long I had been sitting on that bench, the warmth of the high still curling in my veins, dulling the worst of the pain. My body ached like a raw nerve, a deep-set agony that pulsed in time with my heartbeat, but the drugs kept it distant, muted. Like it wasn't really mine.

The night had swallowed the sky, stretching above me like an endless black canvas, the stars scattered in their usual careless way. I tipped my head back, blinking up at them.

The stars looked weird.

Like, really weird.

I squinted at them, trying to make sense of the little glowy dots scattered across the dark, but my brain just wasn't getting it.

It felt like they were mocking me. How they just... existed. How they burned, bright and oblivious.

Like, how the hell were stars real?

They were huge. Giant, burning balls of gas just floating out there, being all important and shit.

And yet, from down here, they looked so small. Like tiny little freckles in the sky. While I sat here, grounded and human and miserable

The park was empty now, the distant hum of cars on the main road the only real sign of life. The streetlights buzzed softly, flickering occasionally, casting long shadows across the pavement. It was peaceful in a way that made my skin itch.

I had been here too long.

The pain was creeping back, slinking through the cracks of my high, digging into my ribs and up my spine. The bruises felt tighter, like my skin was stretched too thin over something broken underneath.

I should go back.

I should go home.

But I didn't.

I wasn't that stupid.

Instead, I stood, rolling my shoulders against the stiff ache that threatened to settle in. I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets, my fingers brushing the cool metal of my lighter.

And then I walked.

I didn't know where I was going.

I didn't care.

I just needed to move.

~~~•~~~

Beacon Hills at night was almost eerie.

The streets were mostly empty, the shops closed, their windows dark and hollow. The occasional streetlamp buzzed to life as I passed beneath it, their light painting the sidewalk in flickering gold.

I let my feet carry me, turning corners without thinking, my mind floating somewhere between the high and the pain, between exhaustion and that gnawing, restless energy that never really let me be still.

My head felt fuzzy.

Time felt weird.

I must've walked for a while because, eventually, I ended up somewhere unfamiliar. The air smelled different here, stronger, thicker, tinged with something almost metallic. The pavement was damp, reflecting the glow of neon signs blinking above me.

I slowed to a stop, tilting my head.

A club.

The building was wedged between two others, its entrance framed by glowing green and blue lights, the name flickering half-burnt out above the door. The music pulsed from inside, low and thrumming, vibrating through the concrete and into my bones.

I stared at it.

It was probably a bad idea.

I was still high. Still aching. Still barely functioning like a normal person.

But...

I was also still thinking too much.

I exhaled slowly, my breath curling into the cold night air.

Fuck it.

The second I stepped through the doors, the world shifted.

The air was thick—humid and hot, laced with sweat, alcohol, and something artificial and sweet. The bass of the music thrummed through my chest, vibrating in my ribs, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

The lights were chaotic, flashes of red and blue and purple, illuminating the dance floor in erratic bursts. The bodies moved in waves, twisting and tangling, limbs catching in flashes of neon.

It was overwhelming.

I made my way to the bar, slipping between the press of bodies, my jacket already feeling too heavy in the heat.

The bartender barely glanced at me before pouring something dark and amber-coloured into a glass.

I didn't question it.

I just drank.

The first sip burned all the way down, igniting something in my chest.

Good.

I wanted to burn.

One drink turned into two.

Two turned into four.

I lost count after that.

The world softened around the edges, the neon lights bleeding together, the beat settling into my bones like a second skin. The pain faded into something distant, something small, something that didn't matter anymore.

I liked this feeling.

Floating.

Weightless.

Nothing mattered.

Not my father.

Not the bruises.

Not the past.

Not even Scott.

It was just me and the music and the burn of alcohol on my tongue.

I let my head tip forward, forehead pressing against the cool metal of the bar.

Someone brushed against my arm, muttering something I didn't catch. I didn't care.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing at all.

~~~•~~~

The music wasn't just loud, it was alive.

It crawled under my skin, pulsed through my veins, wrapped itself around my bones. The beat thrummed deep, vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat, the heavy synths weaving through the air, thick and intoxicating. The melody wasn't something I could just hear—I could feel it. It ran through me, tangled in my nerves, and urged my body to move even when every muscle protested.

I wanted to move.

I needed to.

With unsteady hands, I pushed myself away from the bar, my body swaying from the effort. My head spun, the room tilting in a way that made the neon lights blur together—flashes of electric blue and violent red streaking across my vision.

Too fast. Too bright. Too much.

I blinked hard, shaking it off as best I could. My legs felt heavy, slow, like they weren't really mine. But the alcohol had worked its magic, numbing the worst of the pain, making my body feel distant—like I was floating just outside of it.

It didn't matter.

I wasn't thinking.

I wasn't feeling.

I was just moving.

I stumbled onto the dance floor, the press of bodies swallowing me instantly. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and something else—something electric. People swayed and twisted, bodies colliding, hands tangling in hair, lips brushing against skin. It was chaos. A mess of movement and sound and sensation.

I let it take me.

I let the music take me.

I tried to dance.

My body didn't want to cooperate.

I could feel the stiffness in my muscles, the ache in my ribs where bruises still bloomed, deep and ugly beneath my skin. The alcohol dulled it, but it was still there—a distant throb that reminded me I wasn't invincible.

But I didn't care.

I let my arms lift, let my body sway, let my head fall back as the beat coursed through me. My movements were clumsy, unsteady, more of a drunken stumble than actual dancing, but I didn't stop.

The floor felt unstable beneath me, like I was walking on something that wasn't really there. Every step was an effort, every shift of weight sending a new ripple of pain through my limbs. But the music was in my blood, demanding that I keep moving.

I turned too fast.

The world tilted sharply.

I felt myself stumble, felt my balance slip, felt the hard press of someone's shoulder as I knocked into them.

"Shit—" I mumbled, barely catching myself, my hands gripping onto something—someone—to keep from going down completely.

They steadied me, laughing. A low, amused chuckle, close to my ear. I didn't even look at them. Didn't care.

I tried again.

My hips swayed, my arms lifting lazily, but I had no real control over my body. My limbs felt like they were moving through water, sluggish and slow, weighed down by exhaustion and alcohol and whatever was still lingering in my system from earlier.

I felt... heavy.

Like I wasn't really here.

Like I was watching myself from a distance.

Everything was blurring together—lights, bodies, movement, heat.

Someone's hands slid around my waist, pulling me back against a body that was too warm, too solid.

My stomach lurched.
Like a flip had been switched it was suddenly all too much.

Too many hands.

Too many people.

Fingertips grazed my hip, another set ghosting up my arm. Someone else's palm skimmed down my spine, slow and deliberate, dragging goosebumps in its wake.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Breathe.

My body swayed without my permission, my movements sluggish, and clumsy. Another touch—fingertips pressing against my stomach, dipping lower.

No.

My breath caught.

A memory stirred, unbidden, clawing at the edges of my mind. A different set of hands. A darker room. Too much.

I swallowed hard, forcing the image back down, crushing it beneath the weight of my spinning head. I was too heavy, too slow, too drunk, and still slightly high.

I had chosen this.

The alcohol, the bodies, the hands.

I had wanted to disappear into it.

Hadn't I?

The hand on my waist tightened, pulling me closer. A low deep voice murmured against my ear— but I didn't hear the words over the music, over the static in my own skull.

It was fine.

I was fine.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My breath catching as a sharp jolt of pain shot through my ribs.

And suddenly, it wasn't fine at all.

I gasped, stiffening as the pain flared, a fresh reminder of how weak my body was, how many fucking injuries I still had.

I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

I pulled away—tried to, at least—but the hands didn't let go immediately.

A heartbeat of resistance.

Panic lurched up my throat.

I shoved harder, and this time, they let me go.

The music swelled, crashing into my ears as I staggered forward. Everything blurred—faces, lights, motion. I barely made it off the dance floor. My legs weren't working—too slow, too heavy, like I was wading through something thick and suffocating.

I didn't know if it was the alcohol or the memories that made my head feel so wrong.

The heat was unbearable, sweat sticking to my skin, my clothes clinging uncomfortably. My stomach twisted, my ribs throbbed, my thoughts scrambled, refusing to settle.

I pushed past people blindly, not caring who I bumped into.

I needed out.

The neon lights of the club flashed violently as I stumbled toward the exit, the pounding bass fading behind me as I shoved through the heavy doors.

Cool air slapped me in the face.

It should've helped. It didn't.

The world was still tilting, my balance shot to hell. The sidewalk felt wrong under my feet—like it wasn't solid, like it would swallow me whole if I wasn't careful.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, swallowing thickly.

My skin was still buzzing.

Phantom touches lingered where hands had been.

I could still feel them.

My ribs ached with every breath, a dull, nagging reminder of my own stupidity.

I staggered forward, heels scraping against the pavement. Streetlights buzzed weakly, casting pale pools of light that barely cut through the night.

I didn't know where I was going.

Didn't care.

I just needed to move.

Each step felt like a battle. My knees wobbled, my limbs heavy, my vision blurred at the edges, smudging the world into something shapeless and surreal.

I felt detached from my own body.

Like I wasn't inside it anymore.

Like I was floating just above myself, watching this, drunken girl stumble through the streets, lost in her own fucking head.

Pathetic.

The thought clung to me, wrapped tight around my ribs, squeezing.

I gritted my teeth, but my body wasn't listening anymore.

Eventually, my legs gave up on me.

I tripped over absolutely nothing, my knee hitting the pavement with a sharp crack. My hands barely caught me before I went down completely, my fingers scraping against the rough concrete.

Pain flared—sharp, electric—but it barely registered beneath the nausea curling in my stomach.

"Fuck," I hissed, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

I stayed there, hands pressed to the ground, head spinning, vision flickering in and out of focus.

The world around me tilted.

I was going to throw up.

I hated this.

I hated myself.

Slowly, I dragged myself toward the nearest wall, not caring where I was anymore. I let my back hit the rough brick, the cold seeping through my jacket, and finally let myself sink to the ground. My legs stretched out in front of me, my arms resting limply at my sides, my head falling back against the wall.

I closed my eyes.

Breathed.

Or tried to.

Each inhale was shaky, uneven. The ache in my ribs wasn't going away, and the more I sat still, the more I felt it. The alcohol wasn't helping anymore. It had done its job, numbed everything for a little while, but now the pain was creeping back in, slow and insistent.

I clenched my jaw, swallowing against the nausea still rolling in my gut.

This was stupid.

I was stupid.

Coming here, drinking myself into oblivion, stumbling around the streets like a complete wreck. It wasn't like I didn't know better. But knowing better had never stopped me before.

I cracked my eyes open, staring up at the dark sky.

The stars were barely visible through the city haze, just faint pinpricks of light in the vast blackness. It felt fitting.

I exhaled slowly, my breath misting in the cool air.

I didn't know how long I sat there. Time didn't feel real anymore.

I just knew I was tired.

So fucking tired.

•============•
A/n:

Hey my beautiful loves! I hope you are all doing okay?

This chapter is shitty ngl but the next 2 chapters are rlly good! (I think)

I would just like to say that if anyone has ever experienced something like this i am FKN sorry you don't deserve it.

As someone who has been through this I am always here if you need to talk I love you all so much

I would say more but I'm scared of getting reported and my account might be shut down if I get reported more lol.

Anyway I love you all so so much please stay safe and eat lots of food and drink some water! And go to sleep!!

I'm rlly FKN tired

QOTD: Do you have any pets?

WC: 3333 (hehe)