THE DRUGGED BRIDE

CHAPTER TWO : After The Dark

Riley's POV

I jolt awake in a strange bed. The silky sheets feel rich, almost humming as I shift. Bright light floods through giant windows, stinging my tired eyes. My skull throbs like a tiny drummer is going wild inside. My tongue feels like pennies mixed with sugary poison.

Just where the heck am I?

I try to rise, but my own body rebels. Each limb feels weighty and strange. I'm wearing a borrowed shirt, smelling of spice and a memory I would rather forget. My party dress has vanished. I recall nothing of its removal. I recall nothing after Vanessa's special drink.

A jolt of fear rushes like ice. I tumble from the bed, my legs wobbly and frail. The room swirls for a moment, and I clutch the wall to stay upright. The bedroom is vast and empty and gray. Every object looks pricey. Every object feels menacing. I'm lost in a place with a total stranger.

I bolt to the door and twist the knob. It swings open. My hands tremble as I walk down a hall ripped from a magazine. All is flawless and stark and creepy. No sound of any person. No sound of anything breathing. Where could everyone be?

The corridor opens to a family room, somehow larger than my whole place. Tall windows show the city stretched out below. I'm way up, extremely high. I stick my face to the chilly glass and spot only buildings, roads, and tiny people like they're on Mars. This has to be one of those deluxe downtown spots, only for the wealthy.

My dress waits folded on a seat in the room. It's fresh, like someone cleaned it. That idea makes me feel awful. I pull it back on with shaky hands, not minding the wrinkles now. I just need to leave here. I need my bed to hide, and never come out again.

Just then, I noticed a door open behind me.

"You're awake." The voice sounds even and cold, a man's voice. I turn so quickly I almost trip. It's him, the man at the party, the scary guy Landon Cooper.

He's in a white shirt with the sleeves up. His dark hair is wild, like he just woke up. His gray eyes study me like a riddle to solve. He sips coffee slowly, watching me.

"I need to go home," I say. My voice is tiny and afraid, a young kid's voice. "I don't know how I got here. I can't remember much. I'm really sorry."

"My bad for what?" He nears me, so I step back till my legs bump the sofa. There's nowhere to retreat. "My bad for visiting my flat? Or my bad for all that happened last night?"

"What all?" I ask, but inside I know it. My body has a sense of it. My skin aches, and my head feels lost. "What was your action?"

His face is still as stone. No anger. No sadness. His stare makes me feel like I'm the wrongdoer. "You walked here with me. You craved all this."

"No. No, not me." Now tears fall, hot and quick, unstoppable. "Never my wish. You're just a stranger. My drink tasted funny. My memory's gone. I feel bad. So sorry."

"Your name?" he asks, as if I spoke no words. As if my tears have no worth.

"Riley. Riley Andrew. My dad works as—"

He knows the truth now, his face shows it. His jaw stiffens up. "Andrew? You're the big boss's girl?"

I nod slowly, he then turns away from my stare. He combs his hair with his hand, like vexed or mad or both things. He goes to the window, stares out at the bright city. My body still trembles. My legs might quit.

"I must leave now," I breathe. "Please help me. I just crave my home."

"Not at this time." He looked back at me, his face changed in mood. Darker now than it was. He just chose a path. "My kin will find out all this. About both of us. They will ask many things."

"What do you mean? There is no us. I can't even name you."

"Precisely." That's how he makes it sound, the issue. "I'm a stranger. Your dad is clueless. My folks don't know you. But after last night, folks will wonder who you are, and us."

My gut sinks down. "What story will you spin?"

He stares at me for a while. His gray eyes are blank and icy. "Truths twist into knots, right? My mom will pry about you. My work friends will judge. And your dad..." He stops, a cruel look flashes over him. "Your dad will wonder why you were in my bed."

"Keep it from him. I beg you." I feel like I'm pleading. I am, in fact. "If he learns it, I'll be blamed. He'll think I set this up. He'll loathe me."

"Then we'll spin a different yarn." Landon moves close, I hug the couch tighter. "We'll say you came here on your own. We shared the night 'cause we both yearned. It was set up. It meant a lot."

"But it isn't the truth."

"Yeah," he says without concern. "It isn't."

He lifts his hand, cups my face. His touch feels warm, not harsh, which makes me wanna yell. I don't, though. I just shut my eyes and feel awful.

"Here's the plan, Riley," he whispers. "My mom's coming over soon, in an hour. She'll want the scoop on why you're here. And you'll say last night was honest. You craved to be here. That maybe... maybe this will turn into something."

"If I refuse to play?"

Then I let folks know you fibbed to me. That you showed up to trick me into stuff. That you are just a greedy person from a broken family. His tone is chill, like it's the daily forecast. Do you know what turns up for girls like you when strong guys think they’re fakes? Do you know what turns up for dads? Their work? Their lives now?

I stay quiet because I’m wise about the answer. It's been clear to me from jump street.

"Fine," he whispers, letting go of my arm. "Wash yourself up. My mom should be here shortly. And Riley? You will grin like you're glad to see me. You will clutch my hand like you are in love with me. You're gonna act your role just right."

He ghosts, leaving me solo in his big, dead space.

I fall back on the seat and notice I'm stuck now. Not from locked doors or chains on me. Stuck with worry, fear. Stuck with my whole life I'll chuck away if I speak up.

I have sixty to work out how to grin when everything around me goes kaput.

And I'm clueless that my main bad dream is just about to jump off now.