Peach Cocaine

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” Oliver growls out. Over the shock, now he is just plain furious. She has no right to be at his home, invading his life again. He had moved on, ready to make plans with Casey and enjoy his time with her.

“Aren’t you happy to see me, Oli?” Rose frowns, pushing out her bottom lip. She is more dolled up then usual, and Oliver suspects the woman is planning on seducing him back into her life.

“No.”

“But, I-” She pauses, her brows furrowing together, “I got you better! I waited patiently for you to get better and waited for you to come back to me, but you never did. Why, Oli? Don’t you love me anymore?”

“I never did. I was using you, an’ now yeh no longer matter to me.” Oliver didn’t dare say a word about Casey, if he did she would more then likely try to hunt Casey down and kill her.

“You were o-only using me for the drugs?” Rose’s voice cracks on ‘drugs’, her body slouching over some.

“Yes. But not anymore, I don’ depend on yeh anymore. Now leave.”

“I’m sorry, Oli, please, can we please start over? I love you!” She’s practically begging and is on the edge of breaking down crying. Rose tries to lean on him but Oliver moves farther back and a look of frustration flits across her face.

“Sorry for lyin’ to me? Sorry for fuckin’ me over me? Sorry for gettin' me hooked on drugs? Normally, in normal situations, a ‘sorry’ would fix everythin’, but it doesn’t. Now leave. I don’t want or need yeh in me life anymore!” Oliver goes to shut the door but two large, burly guys burst it back open.

“This is what you get for crushing my heart like that!” Rose screams, “I will always love you more then any cunt ever could Oliver Scott Sykes!”

Both of the men have Oliver pinned to the ground so he’s forced to stare up at her, and she has never looked so ugly to him more then she did now.

“You selfish bastard! I put you in rehab so we could finally have a normal relationship, a baby even, and you could take care of me. Look, I’m so skinny now, just how you want me, right?” Rose lifts up her shirt unnecessarily high so her breasts are hanging out, and sure enough, every one of her ribs are poking out.

“You repulse me.” Oliver said evenly. He didn’t bother struggling to a escape, he was out matched, out strengthened and out numbered.

“I am so heart-broken, Oli, why do you keep saying these things? I know you don’t mean them, you just haven’t seen me in a long time and it’ll take a little while to get used to. That’s all. And then we can have a baby together. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“No, you psycho bitch,” His voice is still calm, and he is staring levelly at her.

Something in her mind must of snapped because she grabbed his bowl sitting on an end stand and threw it with all of her strength right at his face. The object collided against his cheek with a loud thwak, but Oliver still retained his composed demeanor while staring directly at her. Rose appeared disgruntled and unnerved by Oliver’s cool composure.

“Fuck you, Oliver!” She screeched out suddenly, “You two know what to do, but don’t kill him. I just want him to realize how much he misses me. And loves me.”

The guy on the right, who had a distinct scar that ran from his left eyebrow to his bottom lip, lifted his fist and punched Oliver harshly in the ribs. Oliver swore he heard a cracking noise but he wasn’t entirely sure until another blow like the last one landed again. Scarface grinned horribly as he continued to beat him in the stomach and rib region.

The other one, the one on the left, clobbered Oliver with a closed fist right in his eye and cheekbone area. Oli could already feel the spot swell up, he knew he wouldn’t be able to see out of that eye for weeks. One of them smacked him across the face and hot blood began to drip out of his mouth.

Oliver’s breathing became labored after that, and he was starting to gasp for air.

“Okay, enough, you two!” Rose barked, “Let him wallow in his pain. He’ll come crawling back, I know it.”

Blackness clouded the corners of his vision, or at least what he could see from his left eye. This is what dying must feel like, he thought as his body started to feel detached from his head. It was as if he were floating on a warm, milky liquid and it was wrapping its soft tendrils around him, pulling him in.

Oliver cried out from bruised, bloodied lips. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not now.