Deep Sleep [closed]

Jane was stumbling through someone else's dorm, in someone else's gown, looking for someone else's room. She ran her hand over the wall as she stumbled through the dark like a zombie, cringing at every bump and creak. The night had passed by in a thick haze, drinking and kissing and drinking and empty conversation. Something told her that Mr. Andrews didn't appreciate her banter as much as he pretended to, but he put up with it, and she gleaned some small amusement out of watching him squirm while she ran her mouth on about anything that came to mind. He'd endure it without much complaining, and that was enough, even if his mind seemed somewhere else half the time tonight. Games, movies, a bit of an adrenaline high, they both shared more than a few interests, and he was good conversation, but they didn't meet like this every once and awhile just for the pleasure of her friendship. They had a nice arrangement, no strings attached, no messy emotions, and half a decade's worth of experience between the both of them. Neither of them were strangers to this, and that's what made it refreshing. Jake was an interesting case study and a good friend, but she couldn't shake the love confession from a few months before, or the cloying attempts at romance. This was casual fun, completely in-sync, and completely divorced from complicated attachments.

So that's what they were. Friends with benefits. That came with its cons too, though. This was one of those times as she wandered through Dorm 403, trying to find her way back to his room. It was all the same layout as every other dorm, sure, and she'd stopped by at least a handful of times by now, but she was drunk, sleepless, and it was the middle of the night. Could anyone blame her? Don't answer that.

Her hands found the door frame, tracing up along the wood and then across to wrap her fingers around the door knob. Well, this was as good of a guess as any, and as far as she could tell, it was a quiet sort of place... None of his roommates had even made a peep on any of their visits, and she'd only ever caught a glimpse of one on a now distant birthday, sprawled out on the couch. Maybe they were absentee? She could only hope. Even if it didn't bother her, it'd be unfortunate for the roommate who woke up to see some stranger picking around in their room.

She turned the knob and pressed it open, holding her breath as she peered into the gloom. Nothing. A pitch dark stillness, but no signs of life, no quiet breathing, no unfamiliar shape bundled up in the bed. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but no movement. Glancing around, she let herself slip inside. In this blackness, it was impossible to tell who's room it was at a glance without jumping ripping off the blankets to check, but as she padded across the carpet, she felt more reassured with every step. It even smelled like him in here. Jane didn't bother to disturb him while he was sleeping, moving past toward the bathroom on the far side of the room. Just a few moments, and then she'd slip back into bed and sleep for a year or two.

The carpet turned to tile and she clicked the bathroom door behind her, flipping on the switch. She flinched at the sudden light burning at her eyes, rubbing at her face and turning toward the mirror. Her lack of sleep was written on her eyes, at the edges of her lips, etched in unflattering lines, and her hair was a tangled mess where he'd locked his fingers through it earlier that night. Jane shifted in her frock. It was made for a taller woman, hanging past her knees on her light frame, but it was warm and comfy and he'd made it available. If only he had a more choice taste in night time fashion... A floral printed nightgown. Wearing it made her feel less like a late night mistress and more like someone's lost grandma. Why he had this thing in the first place, she wasn't sure. He'd mumbled something about his roommate before she'd snatched it out of his closet, giggling.

Jane turned the faucet, splashing her face with cold water, but already she could feel the dull throb in her head. It wouldn't be a fun morning, no matter what happened. She pursed her lips, let out a quiet sigh, and clicked open the medicine cabinet. The rows and rows of bottles made her stare in surprise. Even for her, and even for him, this seemed a bit much. A dozen hair clips, elastic ties, and rubber bands were littered throughout the shelves, but she didn't pay it any mind as she thumbed through the various medicines. Her fingers jumped from the extra strength Tylenol, to the ambien, to a fat rounded bottle in the far corner, with its label removed. Her curiosity ate away at her as she reached out and pulled it out, rattling the contents. Less than half full. She screwed off the top.

Pink, round pills that she recognized almost immediately. Painkillers. Opiates. Oxy? A very expensive hobby. He didn't exactly look like he was struggling with chronic pain, and she couldn't list off many other reasons to keep something like this around in your bathroom. Preston hadn't ever struck her as the type, and she'd never seen it peddled around Rosebury, but she supposed it wouldn't be hard to get your hands on... Everyone had their indulgences, and like she could judge.

Without a second thought except for her incoming hangover and the all-too-tempting idea of sleeping until noon, she popped a few in her mouth without even thinking of a dosage. She dug through the cabinet again, screwing the cap back on and putting it roughly back in its place, picking out the ambien. Sleeping like a rock, no dreams, no chance of waking up. That sounded too nice. Another pill popped into her mouth. Jane bit before she swallowed, and washed it down with water from the sink.

How much time had passed? How long had she just been standing there as the drowsiness set in, unthinking?

It was funny how everything seemed to warp after a little while. Jane stared at herself in the mirror as her pupils turned to pinpoints and her vision blurred, and then she was slumping against the wall, breathing in ragged, shallow breaths. Her thoughts had dissipated into nothing, a gray fog where she lost all sense of time and self. Dadum. One second, two seconds, three seconds, what felt like a minute or an hour, an impossible gap. Dadum. Your heart wasn't supposed to beat that slow. A weak smile fluttered to her lips, barely conscious. Dadum. She was focused on a clear bottle, strawberries and oranges overlaid with sparkles and a cursive brand she couldn't make out. Fruity shampoo. That was a funny thing to have in a boy's room.

Dadum.

Blood trickled down from her nose as she sunk to the bathroom floor.

---

---

What time was it? How long had she been gone? Kayla fumbled with the key, missing the first few stabs in the gloom. Fucking stupid... Sparks leapt out of her bangs. The frustration made her want to crush the doorknob in and just fling the stupid thing open, but she'd end up being the one having to explain it when Pres or Amelia woke up the next morning with their front door off its hinges. Finally, it slipped in, and she pushed the door open and stepped inside, her gaze glued to the carpet. Stupid, stupid... A frown twisted her features. The past few days, weeks, had been filled with stupid drama. Whenever she tried to think, she'd remember one thing or another, and then she'd want to put her fist through the drywall. Trying to sleep was an impossibility. She couldn't even think about trying to lay down, not when it felt like she was getting torn to shreds on the inside, with lightning blazing down her arms like she was trying to catch her sheets on fire. She couldn't control it. Kayla had never been able to control it, and her power just flared according to what she felt, even if she wanted to go one night without hearing that familiar buzz like a fly in her ear.

So she'd slipped off, wandering wherever her legs would take her, trying to clear her mind and burn off energy, but being alone with nothing to do but walk and think just made it feel worse. The helpless frustration gnawed away at her. Why couldn't she just solve all her problems head on? Why did it have to be this stupid dance filled with so many stupid people and stupid emotions? Kayla had never been good at dealing with this sort of thing. Familiar words of an old school counselor rang in her ears. Deep breaths. In. Out. Calm down. It's not a big deal. That was always her mantra, but trying to bottle it up just made it all coil up like a spring and burst out. More electricity sprang out from her bangs as she slipped out of her worn pair of sneakers and looked up.

Kayla froze.

Silence, darkness, but she picked up on the discrepancy almost right away. Her door was open. She'd been gone for most of the night, but if someone thought they could root through her shit... Kayla's heart leapt as she stormed forward, still quiet so not to disturb her sleeping roommates, and pushed through her door and into her room.

A shaft of light was cast across the ground, stretching to the bathroom. She stopped, breath catching in her throat, perking her ears. Someone had been in here. No, no, now who the hell...! Kayla, clenching her fists, moved forward and flung the door open.

Dadum.

A woman with dirty blonde hair strewn across the floor, vacant hazel eyes staring out at nothing, her mouth hanging open in a silent plea. Tears stained the girl's face, mingling with the blood pooling on the bathroom floor.

Dadum.

Kayla froze where she stood, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to think, just frozen as her eyes tried to absorb what was in front of her as real. Dadum. Dadum. It wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a memory, this was real. That was a corpse. There was someone dead on her bathroom floor. Something cracked in her throat as she raised a hand to her chest to feel her own heartbeat. DADUM. DADUM. A hoarse cry filtered out, and then she drew in a breath, filling her lungs with air as it all hit her at once.

She screamed.

Shrill, piercing, the kind of scream that felt like it tore away at your own windpipe. This wasn't the first time she'd seen a dead body, but in that flash point in time, it felt just as fresh and visceral the first. She whirled away, throwing her hands over her eyes as her hat fell off her head, and screamed again. There were procedures, but all her nurse's training and rational thinking was buried underneath the raw surge of emotion that took over her mind. Lightning burst out around her body in brilliant blue-white streaks, lighting up the room in a series of flashes.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have opened up that last bottle.

Preston laid back in his bed, head rested on one arm, his free hand holding up the dark bottle in the air before him. In the pale light that shone in through the window, he could make out the liquid sloshing around inside, if he concentrated hard enough anyways. He had already had more than his fill, was on the verge of feeling sick, and felt his eyelids continued to droop as if he would fall sleep at any moment. Sheer stupid stubbornness kept him awake, leaving him sipping slowly at the bottle one moment after the next, determined not to waste a single drop. If he were truly lucky, Jane would find her way back to his bed before then. It wasn't often someone chose to stay and keep the sheets warm.

As he was near emptying his bottle, the more he found himself slowly drifting off into sleep. Sooner better than later, he argued with himself. It would help ease out the inevitable hangover. The young man yawned, holding the glass against his chest and beginning to drift off into sweet nothingness.

That was until he heard the screams. It shot through the thin walls and pierced his ears, driving pain into his temple and forcing his eyes wide open again. "The fuck?!" Groaning, he shot up out of bed in a daze, perhaps a little too quickly, managing to find his feet, check for the presence of his pants, and stumble to the door. Another scream. His first thought was Jane, wondering what in the shit her problem was.

Soon as he stepped out, he winced, and suddenly things started clicking together. Lightning flared out from his dorm-mate's door, the lights in the living room blazing to life and dying, on and off again. Reflexively, Preston put his arm before his eyes, forcing himself to enter the room. Through the white flashes and streaks of electricity, he saw Kayla standing there, hiding in her hands and turned away.

He pushed forward, the currents bouncing off him near harmlessly. "Pikachu, what the hell is wrong with -" Light's snapped near the bathroom, and in the strobes he could make out a familiar shape on the tiles inside, crumbled on the floor with a dark pool beneath him. It was a miracle that drunk sickness didn't come back to haunt him then and there. Through pillow-talk he had known of her gift, but to see it in person was a different experience entirely. "Shit. Shit." What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Not knowing if she even noticed if he were there or not, nor really caring, Preston grabbed at Kayla's shoulders, pulling her back and steering her towards the door. "Stop! It's fine, it'll be fine!" He shouted over the crackles of thunder. "Don't look!" Jesus Christ. he'llneedmoretodrinkafterthis.

She heard his voice, probing through the darkness, but it was drowned out by the blood roaring in her ears and the lightning tearing through the air. Even if it'd been pitch silent, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to make out what he was saying, right then, right there, in the state of mind she was in. His touch, as he grasped at her shoulders, was what rattled her out of her stupor. Her scream had died off in her throat as he pulled her away, stumbling, but it was all written across her face when she looked up at him. It'd be fine. How could it ever be fine? She didn't know what to say, what to do, what to think. There wasn't any basic instinct to fall back on. Kayla just stumbled around like a corpse, pushed around where he steered him, letting her gaze fall to the ground. Someone had just died in her bathroom.

Kayla clenched her eyes shut, trying to shut that image out forever, and grasped at the hem of her shirt, gritting her teeth. What had happened? Who the hell was this? What were they going to do? Electricity flared around her, a static-like buzz filling her head as lightning leaped out, snapping out in the air like snakes.

Behind her, there was a gasp.

---

---

It hit her all at once. The rush, the sensation of all her senses flooding back into her body at once and her heart restarting. Dadum... Dadum... A weak, erratic rhythm as life filled her eyes again and she sucked in all the breath she could. Hyperventilating. No, not again, not again... A hundred thousand racing thoughts as her body twitched on the ground, kicking, flailing, and she flopped on her back, panting ragged, shallow breaths. Jane massaged at her chest to calm her breathing, staring up at an unfamiliar bathroom ceiling. Her face tingled, and her fingers, toes felt like cotton as her blood started to circulate again. She wiped at her face and looked up at her palm, smeared with blood and tears. How embarrassing... Her panting turned into a coughing fit, red spittle flying out from pale lips as her spine arched, convulsing from the sudden violent storm that racked her body. Jane's hand shook, reaching out blindly and frantically for an inhaler, but of course, she didn't have one. She hadn't used one in almost a year. How could she forget?

A haze of chemicals, a fog that ate away from her from the gut up to the top of her head. She twitched, trying to sit up, and failing that, rolled over on her side to vomit on the floor, and all over herself. Beer, pills, more pills, Cailin. Her shoulders heaved as it all came lurching back up, again, and again. I messed up again, she thought, then she remembered. This was Beata Academy, she was sixteen years old, and she was lying in Dorm 403. Her name was Jane Cordelia Grey, like the queen, and she'd already died. Of course. It was silly of her to forget. Something pinched away at her insides, and she curled up, drawing in ragged gasps, pulses of pain shooting through her lungs like needles with every gulp.

"P... reston..." she wheezed, blinking the tears out of her eyes as she raised her head to look at the blurry figures staring down at her. "I didn't... didn't wake you up, did I...?"

As the young man managed to tear his gaze away from the shape of the girl on the bathroom floor, he could see Kayla staring up at him, her expression lost amongst the dimming rips of electricity. He'd seen that gut-wrenching face of hers before the evening of that simulation, the one that left her looking pathetic and broken. Preston had taken her home back then, made room for her to relax and left behind some warm tea until she could regain herself. It was the simple, obvious thing to do then, but like fuck if he knew what to do right now. He stopped them just outside her doorway, still in sight the sight of Jane, but where he could stand in his roommate's way, lest she get morbidly curious.

He struggled to give voice in the thick air. "It's hard to explain, but - shit." She wasn't even bothering to look at him now, he noticed, her body trembling and her eyes glued to the floor. Feelings of guilt washed over him more and more with each passing moment. As much as he hated to think about it then, this was his fault, wasn't it? How the hell Jane had managed to end up dead in Kayla's bathroom, he had no fucking clue, but hell - if he hadn't brought her over then fucking maybe...

Preston's expression turned solemn, a rare sight. He moved one hand from her shoulder, brushing up and resting atop her head. His fingers spread out, catching on bits of tangles in the soft locks, and so he kept his touch still. "It'll be alright." It was stupid and shitty that that was all he had to say, but they were the only words he had. Shock had become him. This wasn't how he'd planned for the night to have come at all. He only wanted to keep Kayla away, at least until...

As if on cue, the dead had started to spring back to life. Pres let his hands fall away from her, turning to watch the dim shape being to wreathe around and gasp for air, seemingly helplesd to get any strain if breath. It was surreal watching her rise. It left him only able to stand, watching in horror and amusement as her eyes opened again, seemingly lost. To top of the shit show, he bore witness to the puke that painted tile floor. By the time she managed to soeak, he as already moving away from Kayla amd back into the room.

The Autumn let out a small, weak smile. He'd seen her as a mess before, but this was a whole new low, as far as he knew. "You might have saved me from dozing off." He took great care to step around the mess she made on the ground, reaching for a few towels and holding his breath as he could, to try and keep out the nauseous smell that seemed to make his eyes water. "Have a nice nap?" His tone was light, but it strained hsrshly. He didn't take care to notice, but shit, his own hands were shaking as well. It wasn't everyday you saw someone rise from the dead like a fucking zombie. Pres kneeled down beside her and brushed the end of her nightgown down. "Fuck." This was disgusting. He tossed one towel onto most of the vomit and used the other to wipe her face up a bit where he could.

Kayla stiffened under his touch, hitching her shoulders as he reached out to touch her hair, but she didn't move. Alright? How could it be? She ground her teeth, clenching her eyes shut, curling her fingers into tight fists, digging her nails into her palm hard enough to leave marks as the electricity fluxed and cascaded around her, filling the room with light. Deep breaths... It'd be fine. What was she so worked up about? This wasn't the first time she'd seen a dead body. Kayla let the expression slip away from her face, steeling her gaze as he moved to block the door.

That's when she heard the gasp.

Had she imagined it? Kayla stared past him, glimpsing into the room, sparks reflected in the blood as the corpse began to writhe and convulse. That wasn't possible. She knew a corpse when she saw one, and someone didn't just spark back to life like that. The dead girl contorted, twisted, vomit mixing with red spittle. Nausea welled up in her gut as Kayla choked something back rising in the back of her throat.

The girl reached out and said his name. He was already moving away, kneeling to where she was on the floor, cracking those stupid jokes like always. Kayla finally let out a shaky, ragged breath, stumbling backwards and turning to press her hand on the wall. She hadn't realize she'd been holding her breath.

---

---

Ah, there he was... A blurry face leaned over her, auburn hair and a paper thin smile that looked like it'd shatter under the slightest touch. She closed her eyes, letting him wipe away the shame. How embarrassing... It wasn't proper to be seen like this, was it? Jane coughed again, but held it in, drawing in a deep breath. Her mouth felt like cotton, and her ears were ringing like she'd just been smashed over the head with a baseball bat, and it all sounded like he was speaking from underwater, but... Well, she was alive. That was something, right? The sharp scent of iron filled her nose as she stared up at him.

"Sorry to make you get out of bed," she rasped, her chest rising and falling in quick, short breaths as she struggled to fill her lungs with air again. Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper. "I've got a penchant for causing a scene... My mother... always used to tell me that." She smiled, her teeth glistening with blood. "It wasn't a very refreshing nap, I'm afraid... It doesn't feel like a gap at all." Jane was seeing double, but she didn't let that get in the way of her rambling. "You ever fall asleep and wake up a second later...?"

Death was instant like that. No darkness, no time, no anything. Her mind didn't even go blank. It was more like blinking than sleeping. She was falling, and then... she was here.

"Be a gentleman and set me in the bathtub..." she slurred. "I think... it's going to happen again... I'll be okay in a few hours." She just needed rest. And if she was going to throw up all over the place, better in there than on the floor, or in his bed. She blinked, her eyes closed for ten seconds too long, and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, a weak smile on her face. "I just didn't take you for a pill popper, that's all..."

---

---

She'd already left the room, stumbling through the darkness, blue flashes of light casting a glow over the stacks of bus tokens and arcade coins, the shredded and faded t-shirts on the floor, the basket full of crumpled half-written letters. Her hat laid on the floor, abandoned. Kayla hadn't bothered to stick around to hear their banter. If she spent anymore time in that bathroom, she was going to... she was going to... A thick mixture of emotion and nausea flared up inside her as she stormed out of her room, bursts of electricity blazing around her body.

Kayla turned as she entered the living room and smashed her fist through the drywall. A sharp stab of pain shot up from her knuckles to her elbow, but she ignored it, holding in the scream of anger that threatened to build in the back of her throat. She pulled her fist away, the hot flash of pain mingling with the dizzy rage brewing inside her head. Who the fuck was that...?! Why was she in her fucking bathroom?! What happened? What happened? What happened? She pulled away, ignoring her scraped and bloody fingers, and turned and slumped against the wall, her head in her hands. It wasn't the shock of seeing a corpse. Of course not. She'd seen worse, done worse... A girl without a head, a man with a shredded face, the feel of plunging a knife into another person's heart. The heavy weight of a trigger. The way a person's body could fling through the air like a ragdoll. How easy it was just to snap your fingers and watch someone fall. Kayla just had to close her eyes to remember it, as visceral and as real as the moment they had all happened. It dulled the impact, after so long. There were over a billion volts of electricity in a lightning bolt, enough to melt, paralyze, kill. She used to drive that mantra into her head every day when they first found her, delirious and angry and drunk on her own power, when she first went through Beata's iron gates, when she went on her first flight to Tokyo.

It was just reliving that scene again that felt surreal. All over again, she felt that heat wash over her, a wave of red, a ball of fire in her chest strained with guilt and dejection. A choked, wet feeling in her throat. What kind of reaction was that...? This wasn't anything new. She was better than that. Kayla rubbed her eyes and blew out a long breath, letting the burning feeling deflate and melt away. Calm, calm, calm. Deep breaths. "It's not a big deal," she murmured under her breath, leaning her head back on the wall to stare up at the ceiling, a worn out rehearsal of a line from who knows how many years ago. What's wrong with me?

She'd seen corpses before. The bitch was alive. Then it was fine.

Her mouth hardened in an iron frown, a dull look in her eyes as she raised her hand in front of her face, watching how the light snaked and flickered around her wrist and up the bones of the back of her hand, to the tips of her fingers... That constant static buzzing in her ear, the constant aches and bruises, the faded scars in her skin.

I'm just tired.

That was all.

Talk about a total creepfest. He did he best to tidy up the girl with what he had,scattering sacrificial towels over the mess she'd left behind and brushing hair clear out of the girl's face, although it didn't help with appearances much. At least it made her seem a little more lively. "That's some scary shit," Preston laughed humorlessly. To be in and out of nothing in moments, or the idea of nothing at all, seemed terrifying to him. It was amazing how she could seem so casual about it, even in the state she was in.

"Don't go and drown yourself on top of it." The young man muttered, reaching over and starting to lift her up as she seemed to lose herself again. That was, until she'd called him a pill-popper of all things. He stared down at her for a moment, dumbfounded before moving on. She couldn't have been in her right mind then. "People might surprise you."

Preston scooped her up and laid her down in the tub, throwing on a few extra towels, either to keep her clean or keep her warm he supposed, as useless as that would be. Sentimental actions more than anything. "See you in a few seconds." For good measure, he closed the curtain most of the way, to save him from having to look at a cold dead body as he cleaned. It would make him feel like less of a criminal, at least.

As he steppes over the filthy towels, he finally spotted it. Am unmarked bottle left open on the counter. Curious, Preston picked it up, shaking it and looking the small pills over. He'd seen their likeliness before. They had prescribed him to his brother for a time.

His green gaze flickered over to Jane for a moment. Were these what keeled her over? He frowned, running his thumb over the bits of paper and glue left outside the plastic. They sure as hell weren't his.

He held onto them in his hand, walking out of his roommate's bathroom and into the main frame, his eyes instantly drawn to the girl on the floor. It was so dark, he'd hardly noticed the fresh hole in the wall above her. He tightened his grip on the small bottle, getting down to the floor and reaching his free hand out for her, uncertain. "Hey, Pikachu." He murmured, grabbing for her attention.

She didn't look up at him. Not at first, anyways. What was the point? Had he worked everything out with the zombie in her bathroom? Kayla finally turned her head, a lone spark tracing down her cheek, staring down the outstretched hand. Don't touch me. She bit back the venom and looked away again, letting out a low breath. "Hey," she answered, quiet enough not to break the still darkness of the room. What did he want? Was there anything left to work out? Kayla had to stop herself from grinding her teeth.

He had no idea what the fuck to say to her. Apologizing for bringing a girl home, he supposed, or at least for letting her overdose in his roommate's bathroom. That would be the obvious thing to do, if his words meant anything to start with. All he could think about though in that moment was how he'd heard her screaming. It wasn't the first time, nor could he act like he hadn't seen that shattered look of hers before. Preston thought of Jane once more as he reached forward, grabbing the door to the room and closing it shut. It would stay that way for a while, hopefully.

The young man held back a low sigh, sliding down ungracefully into the spot against the wall beside her. The shock had woken him for the most part, but his head still spun with the remains of the earlier evening's buzz. For some time then, there was nothing but silence. He let his gaze fall towards her, trying to think of something, anything to say. Preston shook head slowly at himself. "... You want a drink?" He muttered.

A drink. Really? The last thing she wanted to think about right now was drugs and drinking and smoking. That kind of thing might go down well with one of his girlfriends, but not with her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him, ignore him, or take him up on his offer. A drink... It'd been a long time since she last drank. How long was it now? Almost two years? Kayla sighed and rubbed at her face. She hated it. It tasted like something you'd find in a drain, and it just made you feel sick and dizzy, even without counting the hangover the morning afterwards. "I don't know," she finally mumbled through her hands, letting her arms drop into her lap with a sniff, still not looking at him. "Sure. Maybe." How bad could it be?

She knew she should've asked about the girl in the bathroom. Was she alright? Was she even alive? They should've brought her to the infirmary. But he didn't bring it up, so she didn't either. That was another thing she didn't want to think about.

He hadn't considered that getting her and himself another drink meant getting up and heading all the way back to his room, and everything seem so far then. "Shit," He let out a low sigh through a weak smile. Was it even worth it. He tried to recall the last time he'd seen her drink at all, if ever. A faint memory did hit him. The first time they'd met, on old Diane's hill, he'd offered her some then. She wouldn't like it much more now than she did then, he was sure, but he finally pulled himself up onto his feet all the same.

Preston disappeared for a few moments, sliding the pills into his pocket and returning with two warm bottles. One he opened and held down for her. "Drink up," He laughed emptily, cracking open his own drink and siphoning near half the poor bottle away. It was uncertain how long the silence went before he spoke again. "You take the couch. I'll clean that mess up. She'll be gone before you know it." He muttered, taking another sip. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to him, but he couldn't seem to stop talking there. "Shit... I brought her here. I had no clue how the hell she ended up in your bathroom, but... She'll be fine. Be up and at 'em whenever. That's her fucking gift. Zombie-girl..." He frowned, stirring around the bottle.

Kayla took the bottle, holding it out in front of her like it was poison. Beer, huh...? She frowned, sloshing the liquid around in the bottle, and sighed, cracking it open with a twitch and a spark and drinking deep. Ach... It burned away at her throat, but she forced it down, pulling away with a heavy wince. That was fucking disgusting. Tears had formed at the corner of her eyes from the bitter taste, but she blinked them away and let out a deep breath, gripping the neck of the bottle. Was it even worth drinking this crap?

She gave a dull nod after a few moments of silence. "Fine. The couch." As much as she wanted to, she couldn't find the right joke for a situation like this. So that girl had been dead on the floor, but... Kayla turned the bottle bottoms up again, drowning it all out as a ripple of electricity went flaring down her wrist. He brought her here. It felt like another dagger in her gut.

But how did she die?

She already knew the answer.

"She overdosed," she murmured, almost to herself, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't a question, just a statement.

A small smile cracked at the corners of his mouth as he watched her face twist up sourly from the drink. He had cracked his own open, but it was sometime until he finally took a sip from it. He couldn't get those thoughts and images out of his head, of Kayla's screams and his dear friend dead on the floor. The young man forced a few small sips down, eying his roommate as she suddenly forced the rest of the drink down. "Shit, slow down, lightweight..." He muttered. He didn't want to have to clean up another mess on top of it.

Preston thought to move then, going to get a pillow and some blankets for her when she stared up at the ceiling, echoing his his own late thoughts. He stopped then, the smile - if you could even call it as much - disappearing from his face. "Yeah. She did." He reached into his pocked, pulling out the small unmarked bottle and holding it for her to see just out if her reached. The Autumn would simply jerk his arm back if she tried to make a jump for it. "Where did these come from?" His blue-green eyes watching the girl carefully. "It's fucking weird. She thought they were mine."

Lightweight... He could go fuck himself. It was his idea to drink. Kayla swirled the liquid around in the bottle, staring into the dark. She just wanted this night to end, to wake up, to forget this, to move on like none of it had ever happened. But sleep wouldn't come that easily. You couldn't just close your eyes and let it all disappear. With a grimace, she brought the bottle back to her lips again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Electricity flickered down her arm.

She froze when he reached into his pocket. The pills. It crept down her spine like an icy finger, and then the realization hit her like a freight train. Kayla stared down the unmarked bottle, held just out of reach, her breath stuck in her throat. That girl in the bathroom overdosed, and if those were with him, then... A dark, stony expression fell over her face, glaring at him. "Where did you get those?" There was a dark grit to her words. Of course, she already knew. There was only one place he could've gotten them.

Preston lightly shook around the bottle, sounding off the rattles of the pills inside as he glanced them over, a glazed look in his eyes. "They were in your bathroom," the young man muttered, letting the small bottle fall to his side as he turned gaze back over to his roommate. She looked pissed and terrified at the same time, he couldn't say he'd quite seen her like that before. "Now what could a simple Pikachu need for heavy shit like this?" That was strong enough to overdose a hardened party girl, as it was.

As much as he cooed and tried his best to sound bemused, the tore the hell up out of him. He knew she had, well, some issues - but he didn't think to come to this. Now that he knew, however, things were quickly beginning to fall together. All those times she was passed out cold, on the couch, in her room, wherever, sometimes for even days on end, it was because she popping pills like a grade A junkie. Shit.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" He demanded, "Why didn't you tell me?"

The sharpness in his voice, the glazed look in his eyes, that was the worst part. Hearing all that come out of his mouth couldn't make her flinch, but it felt like there was a hot razor in her gut. What the hell was that for? Shame? Guilt? Over what? He couldn't judge her... She knew what kind of things he did, what kind of people he hung around, what kind of parties he went to. Just because she wasn't in that wheel of people didn't mean she wasn't in the loop. It wasn't like he'd ever made at attempt to hide it. Pres couldn't talk down to her like that, not when he was so much worse, not when she hadn't done anything wrong. That bitch, if she'd done what she'd been afraid she'd done, then, then... How was that her fault?

Electricity flared down her arm. She didn't look him in the eye, not at first, but that static buzz built, built, built in her chest, until it all exploded out in a hot flash of anger. "There's nothing to fucking say," she snapped, pulling defensively closer against the wall, her knuckles turning white, "because it's none of your fucking business." Kayla finally stood, shooting to her feet, her teeth grit in a feral snarl. Electricity lit up the plain wall behind her, casting shadows in the gloom. "They're painkillers. I'm using them for pain. They help me sleep. Is that what you wanted me to tell you?"