Page 7 of Make Me Bleed
“Jesus, you emotional bastard,” I mutter to myself once I finally clear myself of the unexpected burst of emotion. I take one last drag off the blunt and flick the roach over the rail, watching the cherry as it soars over the edge before disappearing into the darkness.
I drag my hand down my face, tugging roughly on the skin as I roll my head around, cracking my neck as I continue to stare up at the twinkling stars.
You were never meant for this life,the nasty voice in my head bites at me, and I wince, knowing it’s right.
“Fucking tell me about it,” I mutter to myself, knowing better than anyone how fucking right it is.
CHAPTER 3
PERIS
The sun glaresin through the open curtains, and I pull my heavy arm over my head with a groan.
“Oh, you’re alive. That’s good.”
If I could roll my eyes without them falling out of my head, I would, but instead, I just grunt at Gabe from wherever he’s standing.
“A man of few words this morning, I see.”
Another grunt as my temples throb from the pressure.
Footsteps thud across the carpet, and then, the blanket is being ripped off my nude body. I yelp and reach for it, but my reactions are too slow, and Gabriel has the blanket thrown to the floor before I can even open my eyes and see the offending object where it lies.
“This is fucking pathetic, Peris,” he snaps, and I can’t help but laugh even as my stomach rolls with the motion. Before I realize what’s happening, Gabe is shoving a garbage can under my chin, and I’m expelling the contents of my stomach. My muscles contract and contort, fighting against the motion as they work to cause me the worst pain imaginable.
I clutch at my chest, fighting against the burn as my fingers dig into my throat, unable to breathe as I choke on bile and alcohol.
A hand slams into my back, rocking me forward, but the motion is enough to cause me to gasp, and the oxygen filling my lungs makes me see spots as they dance in front of my eyelids.
“—you breathe?”
“What?” I choke out finally, only catching the tail end of Gabe’s words. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed shards of glass.
“Can you breathe, motherfucker?”
“Damn. Yes,” I heave. My upper half is hunched over the edge of the bed, palm pressed against Gabe’s thigh, the other still against my throat. I’m pretty sure there’s chunks of skin beneath my blunt nails, but I’m trying not to think about that right now.
“Are you done throwing up?” he asks, softer this time, and I fucking hate him for it.
“Fuck you,” I snap, shoving away the best I can, which albeit is pretty fucking pathetic when I wobble and nearly topple on top of him in my attempt to escape his grasp. Gabe just scoffs and helps me sit up. I lean back against the wall and let out a breath when the frigidness seeps into me, instantly cooling my fevered skin.
“Yeah, Peris. Fuck me,” he sighs again, and I want to tell him to get the fuck out, but for some reason, my mouth doesn’t want to work.
What I say instead is, “What are you doing in here?”
“I’ve been coming in every hour to check on you.”
I blink once. Twice. Try to ignore the twinge of guilt in my chest. I refuse to feel remorse for dealing with it all the only way I know how.
It’s the only damn thing that makes me forget him… forget themboth.
I lift my head, but I still can’t meet his eyes, so instead, I focus on his mess of curls framing his face. “Well, I’m not dead, so thanks for that.”
Gabe is deadpan as he says, “At the rate you’ve been going, it’s not going to take much more to kill you off, and then, what will all of this have been for? Huh, Peris?”
“Fuck you!” I snap again, heat filling my chest and tightening every muscle within it. I don’t even care that I’m as naked as the day I was born as I push to my feet, fighting dizziness as I shove Gabe in the chest, causing him to stumble back a few steps at the unexpected burst of physical anger from me. “You ever think maybe that’s the fucking point?!” I snap the words and then immediately regret it when I watch the way Gabe’s face falls into one furrowed with worry and concern—exactly what Idon’tfucking need right now.
“Gabe—” I try, but he cuts me off.
