Booster
My head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls and sloshing with liquid. It’s not a very nice combination, but it’s the combination that I’m dealing with right now.
There’s … a vague recollection of what happened. I remember being at the school with Lena. I remember her telling us about our baby. I remember fucking her—and I remember what should have been a perfect night turning into a disaster.
The exact details are fuzzy after that, though. I do know that whatever happened, I’m fucking livid when it comes to Happy.
Something tells me this entire fucking fiasco was his fault.
I can’t open my eyes yet. They feel too heavy on my face and even trying to blink isn’t happening. I know … I think … that I’m not at the school anymore. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’m in a bed. I feel warm, and there’s something comfortable and plush that’s cushioning my body.
I think I have a concussion—at least that’s what I assume. It feels like one, and I’ve had enough of those in my life that I know what they feel like. It serves to piss me off, and give me more of an unneeded, throbbing headache when I realize that I have one.
Before I can get too pissed off, though, I manage to register that there’s someone in the room with me. I feel something warm and wet slide over my forehead, and I jot a little. Something like a familiar voice speaks to me.
“Lie back. You’re not in any kind of shape to be getting up right now.”
What the fuck.
I blink again, a little more diligently when I feel the press of a hand against my chest, and I grab it before the person can pull away. I register a struggle. Whoever is in my vicinity, whoever is taking care of me, tries to pull away but is not able to, and I’m not going to let them go. I might have a wicked concussion of epic proportions, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to be fucking passive in this.
Slowly, I get to the point where I’m able to open my eyes. I thought that the voice that had spoken to me was familiar; it’s Pixie. She’s hovering over me, her eyes wide as she looks down on me. There’s a wet cloth in her free hand.
Frowning, I look around. I’m in a room at the clubhouse. What catches my eyes is the bottle of pills on the nightstand near me, and another flash of last night’s anger rears its ugly head up on me.
I toss Pixie’s hand away from me and sit up, ignoring the fact that I’ve got a throbbing headache and a serious case of disorientation.
“Booster—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, not bothering with any kind of politeness or manners. “Where the fuck is Happy?”
Pixie pales. I send her a glare, and she squeaks,
“He’s downstairs with everyone else.”
Against better judgement, I stand up. That makes my head feel worse, and I groan. Pixie once again tries to get me to lie down, but I refuse.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
I’m pretty certain of this. Very gung-ho. Whether or not that’s actually going to happen, however, is another thing entirely, but at the moment I’m very much all for getting my hands around that bastard’s neck.
I hobble downstairs, with Pixie not far behind me. It feels weird to be on my feet, like they’re made of jelly or something else not quite stable enough to be walking on.
Downstairs, the boys are loud, causing a raucous. You would think they would have had enough fun already trashing the high school, but no. It only dies down a little when they notice that I’m in the room, and there’s a distinct halt in the chatter that’s going on.
I look around. They all give me apprehensive looks—like they’re children that know they’re about to be scolded. Good.
“I wanna know. What in the fuck last night was about.”
No one answers me.
“Oh. Quiet now, are you? You didn’t seem to have a problem yesterday being loud.”
Still no answer. Gazes turn away from me, and I clench my teeth at this outward, blatant silence that hits my ears. So they can be big and bad when I’m not around, but push come to shove and their lips are sealed and their eyes averted?
I go to say something else, when I’m interrupted.
“Booster, so good that you’re finally awake. But you should be resting. You took a nasty hit.”
He comes out from the back—where the office is. I ignore his comments.
“What the fuck were you doing back there?”
“Well, you’ve ben out for so long, someone needed to step up and get things rolling.”
That confuses me.
“Out for long? It’s barely been one night—”
“Booster, you’ve been out for three days.”
My mind flashes back to the bottle of pills that were on the nightstand in the room I was in.
“You bastard—”
I move toward him. I can see what he’s doing. Undermining my authority to have them go to the school in the first place. Drugging me so that he knows I’ll be out and he can have control over what’s mine, unchecked and unchallenged from anyone else. I take a swing at him, channeling every ounce of my anger towards Happy into it.
Only … I miscalculate how off-kilter I am.
Instead of landing what I would hope would be an intense punch against Happy’s smug-ass face, I end up going off balance. I would fall down if it weren’t for the fact that Happy catches me. There’s a fake worried frown on his face, but I can see in his eyes that he’s eating this shit up like it’s birthday cake.
“Ah, see, Booster? You still need some more rest. See, Pixie, I told you not to let him up and out.” He sends a look Pixie’s way, and she lets out another one of those squeaks. I keep my eyes on him, glaring, as Pixie comes up to me, taking my arm.
“Come on, Booster,” she says softly, urging. Slowly, I’m beginning to put everything together. it all makes so much sense.
Why Pixie’s been on me so much lately.
Why Happy led the boys to the school that night.
I can’t do a damn thing about it right now though. Between the painkillers and the (possible) concussion, I’m only going to end up making more of a fool of myself if I stay here and try to fight this.
All eyes are on me and Happy, wondering what’s going to happen, what I’m going to do. I know that this choice is going to break my hold—the hold that I’ve had for so long—but there’s nothing I can do about it.
I scoff, but concede, letting Pixie lead me up the stairs. Happy has a smug look on his face, smirking at me like he’s happy that I’m doing what’s good for me, when I know he’s satisfied about the fact that I’m having to bend to his will.
When we get upstairs, I lie in bed. Pixie stays, eyeing me a little, as though she expects me to be angry with her. Annoyed, yes. Disappointed, definitely. But I can see what’s been going on.
“How long has he been trying to take over?” I ask her.
Her eyes widen.
“W-what do you mean?”
“I’m not stupid, Pixie. Between you trying to hop my dick and now this, it’s kind of obvious. It should have been before, but I wasn’t paying enough attention where I should have been.”
Pixie swallows. I know she doesn’t want to answer, but there’s a bit of conflict in her eyes and I can tell she’s struggling with something.
“A while,” she finally answers. “I-I didn’t want to do it—”
“I’m beginning to figure that much.” I glance to the bottle of pills on the nightstand. “What are those?” There’s no label on the bottle, so I’m not able to know for sure just by seeing it what exactly it is they’ve been giving me. Pixie shrugs her shoulders nervously.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “He just gave me the bottle and told me that they would help you.”
I snort.
“Yeah, help me stay down. My head is fucking killing me. I feel like there’s cotton all in it.”
“I’m so sorry, Booster.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t be. Just keep doing what he told you to do—for the most part, I’m not taking anymore of those pills. I’m not going to be here much longer, anyway.”
Pixie seems startled by this.
“W-what do you mean, Booster?”
I grin a little.
“Oh, you’ll see.”