Playing Patience

“What did you take?” he asked rudely.

I wasn’t one of the slackers running around outside. I didn’t do drugs and I was offended that he thought I did, but how else would I feel this way? It had to be the alcohol because I don’t remember taking anything.

“I didn’t take anything, I swear,” I slurred.

“Did anybody give you anything, maybe a piece of candy or something powdery?”

He ran his finger down my face and touched my neck. It scared me at first, until I realized he was checking my pulse. I wasn’t freaking dead, but I felt like I was dying.

I could feel my panic increasing and I quickly ran the night’s events through my head, trying to remember if anyone gave me anything. No one did.

“No, no one gave me anything.” I was freaking out.

He rolled his eyes. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.” He turned away.

I couldn’t let him leave me. I didn’t want to die, and if I was dying, I didn’t want to die alone.

“Wait,” I said as I reached for his arm.

Realizing I’d touched a guy freaked me out even worse and I pulled my arm away like he was on fire.

It was obvious he was aggravated by me. He was shifting on his feet and rolling his eyes. To him, I was just another drugged-out chick at The Pit.

“What?” he asked.

Then suddenly I remembered the nice guy at the bar who’d given me the drinks. Had he put something in my drink like on one of those crazy cop shows?

“A guy at the bar gave me a drink,” I said in a rush. “I thought he just got it from the bartender. It was really sweet, but it tasted fine. I don’t think there was anything it in. I would have tasted it, right?”

“Great, just fucking great.” He sighed again. “You got spiked.”

Spiked? What the hell did that mean? Was I dying? That’s what I mainly wanted to know.

Without a thought to my severe psychological issues with touching men, I reached out and lightly laid my hand on his arm. If I was going to die, why did it matter who I was touching?

“Am I going to be okay?” I asked. “Should I go to a hospital? My friend, the one who brought me… I can’t find her. She wanted the drummer and now I can’t find her. Please don’t leave me.” No matter how much I was breathing, I couldn’t get a full breath. I began to breathe faster.

That made the room spin even more and I had the sudden urge to stick my head between my legs. I felt my hair slip around my shoulders and cover my face. Strands of blond were sticking to my sweaty cheeks so I roughly pushed it away.

He stared at me like I was from another planet for a bit, then looked away.

“I’ll go get you some help,” he said.

Then he was walking away again. All the air in my lungs left in a rush and black dots danced in my vision. I was officially dying. I reached out and grabbed him and the room went black.

Three

Zeke

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said with my arms full of petite blonde.

Her mouth was cocked open and her head fell back over my arm as I carried her across the bathroom to the door. She weighed next to nothing, but she had the firm body of an athlete. I adjusted her in my arms as I pulled the bathroom door open and worked myself and her through the opening.

I was welcomed by a burst of loud music, smoke, and Finn.

“Damn, man, I see your killer cock strikes again.” Finn joked as he threw his arm around my shoulders.

“I found her in the bathroom. Someone spiked her with something. I couldn’t just leave her there,” I said as I started to work through the thick crowd.

“Damn, dude, that sucks.” He pushed at a couple blocking my path.

Finn stuck by my side and helped me shove through. Thankfully, the lights were turned down for the lasers and no one noticed us. The girls in the club love to hang all over the band and usually I’m cool with that, but not right now, not with what could possibly be a dying chick in my arms.

“Since when do you give a shit about some random chick in the bathroom?” Finn asked when I made it to the bar.

“Just shut up and help me, man.”

He pushed her hair from her face, then reached for the pulse in her neck.

“Um, dude, she needs to go the hospital now. She barely has a pulse. Get her out of here! I’ll cover the show and take care of your guitar.”

I looked down at her pale face. Her cracked lips looked as if they were about to bleed, and there were greenish circles forming under her eyes. She was definitely about to die.