Spike, The Eighteenth

I crushed the pill with the bottom of the glass, poured it into her drink, and whirled her straw around as she powdered her nose.

She came back, we spoke, I observed her drink as she played with the ice cubes. Swirl. Swirl.

Drink! And stop playing with the straw! It’s kind of turning me on, to see you slide your fingers up and down the glass; I can imagine the droplets between your fingers. I can imagine my sweat between your lips.

Sometimes the process is like observing boiling water, if you keep looking at it, it won’t happen.
So I decide to just check my phone with the pretense of a business message, and to make her see I’m important for someone.

Now she touched her hair, and -did she just bite her lip?!

She touched my hand, and smiled. She was kind, and understanding. Maybe she’s into me. Well this would be a first… Did I waste a perfectly good pill on something I could have gotten for free!?

But then it happened; as she pulled her arm back from leaving her fingers lingering on my knuckles a few seconds too long, and while I was looking into her eyes -blue eyes, I hadn’t even noticed until then- she knocked the drink over with her elbow and at that precise moment, the music stopped. Everything stopped. Even the drink seemed to remain suspended in a pathetic half motion, not knowing if it was obliged to tip, or to just slide back -like a ball circling the hoop-.

Dunk… It dropped, and spread over the entire bar. Previously, had this happened to me, I would have felt the urge to grab her head and sink it into the puddle, and make her lick it up.

But not this time. I was kind of in shock. Not for the drink, I had more pills on me, and was going to buy her another one anyway, but that face. She seemed so shy and ashamed for spilling the spiked drink… So adorable, as if she’d toppled my family heirloom.

I thought of cracking another pill, but I wanted this one to be awake.

We drank another drink, I think.. maybe more, I’m not quite sure… She was sweet and adorable, and found me funny.

The room was dark, just how I like it, normally. I mean it was pitch black.

The sheets I was lying on smelled of chemicals, but the room must have been closed for some time before we went in there, because the dust was noticeable. I stretched my arm out, but there was no one else on the bed.

I got up, stubbed my toe, cracked my shin on the edge of some unmovable object, and finally made it to the curtain. Pulled it back, and a ruthless sunlight threw me back on the bed.

The room was empty. I was naked, looking for any sign of my belongings or of her presence, when a loud authoritative knock shook the door.

“Mr. Cousins? Mr. Luke Cousins? This is the police, may we have a word with you?”

The voice, and those words, quailed my hangover and brought a dreading sense of reality to me… But where had she gone?

Spike the spiker. Kill the rapist. Heal the drug user.

Forgive the brave, for they don’t know any better.


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