FicWad

A/N: This is just the first chapter of several that I might put up, I'll post more if it gets positive feedback :)



The blood pumping through my veins raced at an alarming rate. My head pounded to the beat of the club music as the most exhilarating feeling fused with nerves swept me into a warm euphoria. I barely even felt his teeth sink in.

Sweating bodies still danced on the floor, collectively unwilling to think of what was happening in the corners. Dancing their life away, to forget all the bullshit, just as I'd came to do.

Once the room started spinning, I experienced a whole new level of nirvana, the warmth growing more and more intense until it felt like my blood was on fire. Something felt like it was spreading across my body, and I welcomed it.

It was when he pulled away from my skin I realized what had just happened.

"Whoa," I moaned, leaning my head back on the black sofa, too dazed and high to reconcile myself. "Did you- did you just bite me?"

I raised my head, which felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, to look into his eyes. They read panic, an unbeknownst of what had just happened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his brown, bedridden hair that I once found attractive now sweat matted against his forehead. "I'm so sorry. I got carried away."

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," I scowled weakly, putting my hand to the two holes in my neck. "Did you just do what I think you did?"

Before I got a reply, he scurried out of the curtain covered nook, nearly knocking down several people as he made his way to the exit.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered under my breath, slipping on my shirt and heading out myself, skipping out on the tab the stranger agreed to pay himself. "Freak."

I had nowhere to go after this, planning beforehand that I'd be staying there until closing, which was six AM.

The cool air felt extravagant on my clammy forehead, the effects of whatever that man did to me not wearing the slightest. Instead of going back to my dank apartment, I stumbled across the street to a friendly looking bar.

Two in the morning was a weird time for a bar to be open, but I didn't dare question it. At least it was something to feed my intoxicated appetite.

I walked into the bar like I owned it, realizing my mistake as a couple dozen biker guys and gals stared right at me, just like in the movies. Having no recollection of seeing motorcycles parked out front, I glanced behind my shoulder to reveal the bikes I totally bypassed during my reverie.

"Hello pretty lady," a nasty looking dude that sat closest to me said with a gravelly voice. I sneered at him and walked to the counter in the straightest line I could manage.

I wasn't dressed for clubbing at all, sporting a band tee that I found in the back of my closet and paired with black skinny jeans and a pair of chucks. I felt like I'd just stepped out of a high school, and really hoped it didn't appear that way to the bartender.

In actuality, I was twenty three, too old to suddenly decide what I want to do with my life and too young to commit myself to an insane asylum. After all, a guy had just sucked blood out of my neck.

Roaming was all I ever wanted to do in life. I surely would have offed myself if I had gotten stuck with a five day a week job in some lame ass town. In this day and age, did you really expect me to read all these fiction books and fairytale movies and still want a regular, unexciting life? Maybe that's what they're there for, to fulfill our fantasies while we're stuck in reality.

Right then, I was stuck in that fantasy, still feeling the effects of the drug. I ordered something random, whatever had come to mind, and when I received a piña colada, I chuckled. I enjoyed that my high self-played jokes on my sober self, and my sober self would have seen that drink as a joke. I'd surely be laughing about it later.

"What's so funny, huh?" a rough looking woman muttered to me, leaning against the counter and studying my face. She squinted her eyes and added, "Got any of that for me?"

My eye caught her making a sniffing action with her nose before I took a hearty chug of my drink.

Did it really look like I had just come from a crack house?

"If you're taking about my drink, I'm not sharing shit," I retaliated, simply slamming the rest. Hoping that the effects of the alcohol would wear the effects of the other drug down, I ordered myself a shot of vodka.

"No," she scowled bluntly, leaning in closer to me. It was obvious by the radiating stench that she had a few drinks herself.

Knocking back the shot, I slammed it down and looked the chick in the eyes, my short, dyed blonde hair all over my face.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, my eyesight already going south, "I have to use the ladies room."

I stumbled off the bar stool and slowly walked to the other side of the bar, slipping through the door of the girls bathroom before rushing to the furthest stall. My vision was increasingly worse and all I could concentrate on was the throbbing in my neck.

"Oh, god," I murmured, locking myself in and plopping down on the toilet.

It smelt god awful in there, and in attempt to keep myself conscious, I concentrated on the stench of throw up and weed.

Five minutes must have passed, and things weren't letting up. I was sweating profusely and it seemed like I was hearing noises. Before I could gather myself and make it to the sink, I fell limp on the side of the sharpie marked wall.

Regaining consciousness was a bitch. The minute I opened my eyes, my head started throbbing so hard I wished to pass out again. No longer did I feel dizzy, but in its place I felt weak. When I had the courage to stand, my legs wobbled like I was standing on a tightrope, and I barely made it out of the stall and to the sink.

"Shit," I moaned, looking at a train wreck in the mirror. There was a big gash on my head from passing out, and the holes on my neck were red and inflamed.

I washed the blood out of my hair the best I could and splashed my face before I headed out into the bar again, and to my absolute pleasure, the bikers had left. I thanked a higher being that the shades were down on the windows, knowing that I'd face hell once I got outside, and reluctantly made my way towards the exit.

"Hey," a girl about my age yelled, pulling on my shoulder. She took one look at my head and neck and squinted her eyes. "I heard that you wouldn't share your stuff with my sister."

"The fuck are you talking about?" I questioned, clenching my jaw when it sounded like my throat had been cut with razors when I spoke.

"Is it meth or crack?" She demanded to know, raising her voice. A few people looked at us briefly before going back to their business. She tugged at my shoulder once again and I decided I had enough.

"Get off me, I don't have shit," I said through barred teeth, swiping her hand away from my shoulder. Seeing this as a direct threat, she widened her eyes and got closer to me.

"You're gonna pay for that, bitch," she muttered, taking a full on swing to the side of my jaw.
May I point out that if I hadn't been so hung over, I probably would have had the reflexes to stop her and knock that bitch on her ass.

Obviously, being impaired, I wasn't quite prepared for her to sock me so hard that I slammed into an empty stool.

My jaw dropped as I slowly felt the pain register, cupping my already swollen chin.
Adrenaline hit me like a kick to the chest, at least five times stronger than any other fight I'd been in.

In retaliation, without even thinking, I charged at her with both hands ready, pushing her against the nearest wall. The angry expression that crossed her face fueled my fire, and I quickly yanked back a fist and slammed it into her face. I didn't stop until there was blood gushing down her nose.

I gotta give her some credit. She lasted way longer than I had expected; usually, girls wave the white flag once blood is drawn. This one fought back once she had the chance.

Seizing her moment, she grabbed the collar of my shirt and spun me around, landing a couple of good blows that cracked the skin on my jawline open and blood from a brow cut flooded into my left eye.

I shoved her off of me with such intensity that she slammed into an empty table, and before I could ready myself, she shoved me back to the wall and smashed her knee right into my chest.

A cracking sound echoed in my ears and tightness evaded my lungs. I couldn't feel the pain, but I was positive she broke a rib or two in half.

Both of our eyes widened, stopping us from fighting any further. Before one of us could retaliate in any sort of way, the bartender took us both from the fronts of our shirts and dragged us out.

My cheek smashed on the ground as I was thrown out of the doorway, the girl landing right next to me.

"Not bad," she muttered, spitting out a chunk of blood on the sidewalk. A passing couple jumped back and walked a wide arch around us.

I gasped for air, which was increasingly hard to do, and rolled over to my back. I tightly closed my eyes against the harsh sun and groaned.

"Not bad yourself," I coughed, and when she held out her hand as a truce, I eagerly accepted. "We should do this again sometime."

"Maybe," she laughed, cutting short when she moaned in pain as she stood up. "I'll see you later, man."

"Sure," I replied, waiting until I couldn't hear her footsteps anymore. I opened my eyes carefully and even more gingerly I sat up, taking inches at a time until I was on my feet.

Sirens in the distance put me on full alert, and when I realized I was in no shape to run, I walked to the bar's stone wall and waited for them.

"Shit," I whispered to myself, attempting to rid my left eye of blood. I could not have any fines on my hand, let alone the several I was about to receive. Plus, the unpaid tabs. And the hospital bill. My money problem was the worst of them all.

As the sirens got closer, I became drowsy. Not like after effects of drugs drowsy, like I finally wanted to go home and crash on my couch drowsy. I was tired enough that I didn't even care I had nobody to go home with.

Surprise struck me as a single ambulance rolled up to the front of the bar, not a single cop car following. Still, I stayed paranoid as an EMT crashed out of the back of the ambulance with a stretcher. I rolled my eyes and walked to him.

"Listen, guy. I'm fine. I'm pretty sure you guys got a life to save somewhere," I said, pretty much sealing the deal when I lurched forward and retched a pile of blood.

"Looks like I am saving a life," he replied humorlessly and pushed my unwilling self onto the bed. Once he strapped me in, putting a pillow behind my neck so I wouldn't asphyxiate on my own blood, he wheeled me into the back and pulled out alcohol pads from a drawer. The minute the liquid touched my face, I yelled out with all my might. Unfortunately I realized the pain in my chest was now on full blast, the movement of broken bone crushed against my lungs, radiating red hot through my entire body. It was enough that I passed out, once again, for the whole ride there.



Hospitals were never my thing. I didn't care if my leg was hanging from threads and I was puking up stomach, I practically swore an oath to never step foot in a hospital. At least I was being wheeled in.

It's different when you're actually sent to the emergency room. They force you to lie down on some shit bed in the back of an ambulance, stabbing widely unnecessary IV's in to your arm. ‘Sit down, miss. Stop resisting, miss. Relax, miss.’ Well, that's probably only what they say to people like me. But you get my point.

When you're wheeled into the emergency room coughing up blood, everyone looks at you like you're a delivery from the psych ward. The bruises on my nose were just an addition, and the black eye was a cherry on top. I'd looked like I'd been through a bar fight, and that's exactly what happened.

"Two broken ribs and a possible ling puncture," the ambulance guy muttered to the nurse, wheeling me into the stuffy room. I took one sweep of my surroundings and immediately wanted to hurl.

The nurse, a surprisingly young woman, gently helped me off the cot and onto the bed. Despite being exhausted, literally no fight left in me, I still tried to swat her hands away.

"Definite lung puncture," she said as I coughed up yet another chunk of blood. "How did this happen, darling?"

"Bar fight," I winced, leaning back on the pillow and holding onto my ribcage for dear life. "Is it possible to cough up a lung?"

"In your condition, unlikely," she laughed, taking my blood pressure. I held my breath as it squeezed against my arm. "Okay, the only thing we can do right now is patch your ribs up. We'll have to order some Xiloproxin for your punctured lung."

"Xiloproxin? What's that?" I asked, watching as she pulled out medical tape and gauze bandage out of a white cart. She lifted my shirt and wrapped me up quickly, and then looked down at her pager as it beeped.

“It’s sort of like what you put in tires so when it gets punctured, it seals it back up,” she explained, patching me up in a hurry. “Expect to stay one or two nights.”

I groaned audibly and squirmed on the scratchy sheets, refusing to crawl under them like I desperately wanted to do to my own bed. Just to take a long nap and forget about the day’s events.

Once the nurse left, I finally made peace with my surroundings, gingerly turning to one side to face the window. Although there wasn’t much to see out there, there were always noises, whether it be an animal pawing in the bushes or loose grains of dirt being carried through the wind and finding a place at the glass. The most calming noise, I found, were the soft voices of the people in adjacent rooms. Knowing someone else was there had always calmed me down, and this time, it did just that long enough for me to close my eyes.

For a few seconds, of course.

My eyes flew open and I jolted to an upright position as a man practically screamed from the room directly to the left of mine, immediately hushed by the voice of the nurse who treated me. I clenched my ribcage as a searing pain ripped through me, but I still stayed alert to what was happening. The man’s voice was still slightly raised, perhaps in a manner of shock or disbelief, and then was soon choked off by what sounded like brutal retching. As slowly as I could, I swung my legs over the bed and rose to my feet, soundlessly walking to the wall and setting my ear against it.

“Yeah, it’s a little pricey,” the nurse said, then sighed loudly. “Look, I know your situation. I can cut you a deal for half off, but that’s it. You have no idea how expensive it is to make this- the bribes and the synthesis and the-“

“I got it,” he snapped, the echoing of footsteps around his room startling me. It sounded like he was fine, apart from the practically constant coughing. It made me wonder what kind of medication he was requesting. “I can pay you back later. I have nothing right now.”

There was a slight pause from the nurse. “And you wouldn’t have had the money last time if you didn’t snatch that dude’s wallet.”

I was familiar with what the man was going through: he wanted drugs but didn't have the dough. It was common in the club scene, something that was seen every single night repeatedly, and many traded sex acts for a few hits. Seeming that this was a much more complex drug the man was asking for, I assumed there’d be no loud moaning noises coming next.

“Hey, I’m good for it, you know that,” the man replied, sounding more desperate as the seconds ticked on.

Another sigh came from the nurse, and then the sound of pills jingling in the bottle was muffled as it hit his hand. “Next time, you pay me or you get nothing.”

The nurse walked out of the room without waiting for his thanks and, to my surprise, knocked on my door after a few seconds of wait. I hobbled back into my bed just in time for her to swing the door open.

“Got you your gown, since you’re staying here overnight,” she said sweetly, a complete change from how she acted with the man. I furrowed my brows but left it alone, watching her lay the gown on the edge of the bed. “I’ll leave you alone now; press the red button if you need me.”

After she left the room, I sat there, staring at the hospital gown as if I could make it disappear. When it didn’t vanish into thin air, I scowled and snatched it up, quickly undressing and putting the dumb white with blue flowered thing on. Putting my clothes into a disorderly pile by the bed, I suddenly realized how tired I was, and how much sleep I hadn’t gotten for the last twenty four hours. Reluctantly, I snuggled deep into the blanket and shut my eyes, sleep coming easier than I expected.