The full shot glass in front of me is almost too blurry to distinguish through my watery eyes, but I reach for it and gulp it back anyway, slamming it down on the bar. That's when I notice the number of empty shot glasses before me.
Five. I have sat here and taken five shots without even feeling it. Without even really knowing why I was here.
It's almost as if my heart and mind had gone into self-preservation mode after seeing that video. Like they wouldn't let me feel the immense pain it would undoubtedly cause. But now as I sit on my rickety bar stool, staring at the empty glasses yet not truly seeing anything at all, the feeling of dread and sorrow slowly flood my system. Like a creeping disease that eats away at every part of you bit by bit. And before you can look up and assess the irreparable damage, it's too late. You are already too mangled and rotted to even begin to heal. There's no way to come back from that. Death would have been much kinder.
"Whoa, honey. Another?" the bartender asks, suddenly in front of me. I nod my response and he goes about refilling a glass with light brown liquor. I signal for him to keep them coming despite his reluctance.
I throw back one. Then another, hoping the burning elixir would somehow disinfect and soothe my afflicted body. The warm effects from the liquor sweep through my veins and I let my eyes close, relishing the feel of bottled contentment. I want it. I want it all over me. I want to feel good. Not the incarnate hell that currently occupies my senses.
Time passes in a blur of empty shot glasses, blaring rock music and faceless bar patrons eager to hold my attention. I don't feel it. Any of it. I just fall into my own slice of oblivion and my carnal senses guide me. And as the room spins and blurs out of focus around me, I grin lazily in triumph knowing that I have once again achieved it.
Numbness. Nothingness. Emptiness.
"Baby girl, what the hell have you done to yourself?" a smooth as silk voice coos in my ear, brushing a lock of hair out of my face as I lean against the bar.
"Niko! You came!" I shriek, throwing myself into his arms with as much force as I can muster. My eyes are so low, I can't even see him. Yet his scent overwhelms and arouses me in a way that makes my mouth water. The feel of his hard frame against mine makes every sensitive area tingle with expectation.
"Yeah, Gabs. I came. But you shouldn't be here," he says pulling my body away from his to look at my face. "What are you doing here?"
I tug my arms away from the restraint of his hands and turn towards the bar, signaling the bartender for another round. "What does it look like? I am having a drink!"
"A drink? Or twenty?" He puts his palms on either side of the bar, imprisoning my body and making my heart sputter with the contact. His lips graze my earlobe. "You're supposed to be with Dorian right now. You know he's been crazed with worry."
"Fuck him!" I spew, drawing the attention of nearby barflies. "I don't want to be with him. I want to drink!" I pick up the first thing the bartender sets in front of me and down it without blinking, hopelessly trying to push away the pain that the mere mention of his name brings. "And I want you to drink with me!"
Niko's chest rumbles with a chuckle against my back, his warmth washing over me. The way his body surrounds mine makes me feel safe and cherished. But even in my jaded state of mind, I know it's not real affection for me. It's all an illusion. And at this point, I really don't give a damn.
"Baby girl, there's nothing I'd like more. But not here. And since you are way ahead of me, I suggest we take this little party back to your place."
I spin around on the stool and force my eyes open enough to look into his hooded gaze. "Mmmm, now you're talking. Ready to give me the best sex of my life?" I slur, biting my lip suggestively.
Niko makes a pained noise and looks away, running a hand through his styled coif. "Shit, you have no idea how bad I'd like to do just that. But you know the rules." He grabs my hand lightly and rubs his thumb against my little blue anchor. "I can't," he frowns.
I pull my hand away, stowing it behind my back. "I don't care about that and neither should you. You know just as well as I do that it will be amazing," I coo with a cocky, yet lazy, grin.
Niko chuckles and then leans into me, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. I nestle into the touch and don't stop myself from inhaling his intoxicating scent. "Is that right? What makes you so sure? What makes you think you can even handle me?" he breathes seductively in my ear, sending shivers up and down my spine.
I turn my head, letting my cheek graze his. Feeling emboldened with liquid courage, I grasp his shirt and pull his body into mine, parting my legs to welcome him. "You know we all have superpowers, Niko. Mine just so happen to be fighting and fucking. And I'm exceptionally good at both," I rasp, my lips mere centimeters from his neck. "Now the choice is yours. Do you wanna fuck or fight?"
I hear Niko take in a sharp breath and he pulls away, taking a step back to put some distance between our warm bodies. He frowns, his blue eyes searching my face for any trace of humor. "You're serious." His hands grasp my shoulders firmly and not in an intimate way.
I shrug out of his hold and turn back towards the bar to down my poison. "Yes, I am serious, Niko," I murmur grabbing a shot glass. Before I can bring it to my lips, Niko snatches it away, gulping it down before I can stop him.
"What happened to you, Gabs? Talk to me. This isn't you."
I snort and roll my eyes. "What happened to me? Maybe you should ask your brother that."
Niko raises a brow. "Ask him what?" He shakes his head and puts a hand up to halt any further explanation. "Let's just get you home. We can talk once I sober you up." He fishes out a bill and slaps it on the bar before wrapping his arm around me to usher me out of the bar. Realizing that there are no more shots in front of me, I let him pull my alcohol-laden body from my chemical sanctuary.
Niko leads me into the backseat of a dark SUV and slides beside me. After breathing in the fresh, frigid air, I suddenly feel completely hammered and slump against the door frame. I can't even see who's in the driver's seat and am too far gone to care enough to ask. Niko mutters something under his breath and the car begins to move, making the swimming in my head turn into a full-on tsunami.
"Come here, baby girl," Niko says pulling me into his lap, realizing how drunk I really am. He cradles me lovingly and I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing in his freshness. I feel his lips on my forehead and his hands stroking my hair. It feels so good and so amazingly comforting, I fight the urge to let down my guard and release the emotion festering inside me.
We're at my apartment in what feels like seconds. Niko helps me inside though I insist I can somewhat walk on my own. However, what is waiting for me behind my bedroom door completely sobers me.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I spew, glaring violently at a solemn-face Dorian. Niko steps from behind me and eases the door closed.
Dorian looks to his baby brother and frowns. "What happened to her?" He steps towards me but I recoil, trudging to the far end of my room, muttering an endless stream of curses and infuriated babble.
Niko shakes his head. "I don't know, bro. I found her at some bar, already sloshed out of her mind. What did you do?"
Dorian looks to me, his blue eyes painted with confusion. "Nothing. I don't know. I thought we … She said she was coming over. We had plans … I don't know," he grimaces.
Even in my inebriated haze, even with rage and pain eating me from the inside out, his beautiful face nearly brings me to my knees. I just want to run into his arms and let him kiss it all away. Even after how deeply he has wounded me time and time again, I can't turn it off. I can't make my heart stop loving him no matter how bad I want to.
"Gabriella," he breathes. "Tell me what happened. Tell me what's wrong. Please, little girl."
An audible growl escapes through my clenched teeth. "Do. Not. Call. Me. That," I grit. "You don't get to call me that ever again, you lying sack of shit."
Dorian looks to Niko and frowns before turning his softer gaze back to me. "Please, Gabriella. I don't know why you're angry with me. Tell me so I can make it right," he pleads.
"You can't. You can't make this right. You did this! You destroyed us! You destroyed me!" I shriek, moving towards him with balled fists. The room erupts into violent tremors, emitting a low roar.
Niko steps in front of me to try to calm me down. The moment he places his hands on me, he winces with pain and jerks away. "Aw, shit!"
Dorian keeps advancing but stops a good three feet away from me. He has experienced my wrath for himself and it would be stupid of him to come any further. "What did I do? I can't fix this if you don't tell me what I did."
"You can't fix this!" I scream.
Dorian takes a tiny step forward, putting his palms up in caution. "Now, Gabriella, tell me what I did. Tell me how to make this right. Whatever it is, I can fix it. Let me fix it for you. For us," he pleads.
"Us?" I sneer. "There is no us, Dorian. Not anymore. You broke us."
"How? I thought we were … I thought this was working," he says, gesturing between us.
Niko takes a step back, hoping to give us just a bit of privacy, yet keeps his eyes trained on me just in case he needs to intervene. They both seem … hesitant. Maybe even a bit nervous. What could these deadly forces be afraid of? How could they see a threat in me?