The Psychic Within

Chapter 30: Drunk

I raised the bottle to my lips and chugged. Champagne buzzed over my tongue, down my throat, tangy and sweet and strong... My lips came away with a gasp. I felt light-headed. Well, more light headed.

I swooned. Still gripping the bottle, I fell back onto the hardwood floor. Though I heard the sound of my body hitting the floor, I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything. My entire body was numb. Numb and swirling, like I was floating in water—cold water, cold enough to sap all warmth and feeling from my extremities until I felt nothing.

Nothing was exactly what I had been chasing... but it wasn't enough. The nothingness didn't reach deep as I needed it to. It didn't reach the one place I needed it most, the throbbing, raw thing in the center of my chest. It pulsed weakly, every beat coming and going with a stab of pain, like limping along on a broken ankle.

I rolled to my side, dragging the bottle up to my mouth again. There wasn't much left, but I did my best to drain what was. Bubbles spilled out the side of my mouth, running down my cheek, pooling on the floor in a fizzy, foaming mess. Whatever, I thought as I wiped at my face with my shirt. It didn't matter if this place was a mess. He was never coming back anyway.

Thinking of him sent a flare of anger through me, cutting through the numbness. In a fit of rage, I lurched up and threw the now-empty bottle at the wall. My destructive impulse hoped it'd smash spectacularly, sending glittering shards into every corner of the shop. As the bottle sailed through the air, I smiled, imagining it.

The bottle slammed into the wall, but it didn't break. It didn't even crack. It just hit with a loud thunk—leaving a nice, rounded dent in the plaster—and then toppled to the floor, still in one piece. I glared at the traitor bottle as it began to roll listlessly across the room.

My head felt heavy. I slumped forward across my legs as I listened to the stupid bottle roll and roll... But I could still hear the bottle going... and going. The room must be uneven, came a distant thought. Not surprising for such an old building...

Just as I was about to drift off, there was strange ting and, finally, the bottle's rolling stopped. My curiosity got the better of me and I glanced up.

The bottle had managed to travel quite the distance. It had rolled across the entire room, coming to a stop at the far wall. It sat right at the foot of the warped mirror, which had been leaned against the wall. The mirror had been left there since Luc—my hands tensing into fists as I thought of him—had brought it home from the seancé. It's cracked face was turned inwards, away from the room.

I looked away from it, curling inwards and resting my forehead on my knees. I regretted ever buying that stupid mirror. Once intended to be an interesting conversation piece, now it only creeped me out. I wished I take it to the dumpster and be done with it.

Only I couldn't go outside.

With a shudder, I wrapped my hands around the back of my neck, pressing my head into my knees. I tightened around myself and ground my teeth together.

I still couldn't quite believe that he'd actually done it—left me here. Trapped me here.

And I really was trapped. After he disappeared, I had tried everything—every door, every window. I had even tried pounding on the big picture window in the shop, trying to get the attention of anyone passing by on the sidewalk. But no one heard me, no one saw me. He had made sure of that. It made sense, in a sick kind of way. The whole trapping-me-inside thing would fall apart if the whole world could see me in here, screaming to be let out.

I trembled as another scream built in my chest. I threw my head back to let it out. It was sharp and hoarse, reverberating around the room—my prison.