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Ruby

     I coughed and spluttered as I curled over some random person's toilet.

I hated puking but I seemed to do it very often these days.

Who was I kidding?

I hadn't gotten sick since I started at Tommen, since I stopped hanging out with Shane Holland and those other fuckers.

But he was here. As well as Brooke Parker, Niall O'Leary, and a few other junkies I knew from BCS.

I couldn't see them. They were some of my best friends but I just couldn't see them.

I was sober. Almost two months.

I forced it on myself to survive. I was going in the worst direction and I felt everything slipping away from me.

But I stopped.

I wasn't sure if I could do it again.

I quickly got up and washed my hands and mouth out before slipping a piece of minty gum onto my tongue.

I spotted them across the room as I creeped down the stairs. The music sounded out their chatter but I could still see the cloud of smoke that surrounded them.

Please don't see me. Please don't see me.

Just get to Patrick.

He'll save you.

"Ruby." I heard someone call. It was a girls voice, very familiar. Ah fuck.

When I turned around, Brooke Parker met my eyes. She quickly wrapped her arms around me. "Chick, I haven't seen you in months, I've missed you. I can't believe you're in the poshy school now. I guess you're too busy playing chess and shopping for new blazers to come slum it with us, huh?" She giggled, covering her face with her hand.

Whatever she was on was working overtime. She looked like she was having fun but she was certainly off her head.

Before I could get a word in, Brooke had taken my wrist and pulled me off into the crowd. When we emerged, a group of people from BCS were scattered across a few couches in front of me, including Niall O'Leary.

"Look who I found!" Brooke squealed.

"Ruby O'Reilly, from beyond the grave." Niall laughed, standing up and slinging an arm around my shoulder.

I didn't mind the gesture. In fact, I missed it. Niall O'Leary and myself were two of the same, he never had anything to lose until he lost it all. He had always been good to me.

He lifted his bottle of beer to my lips— a ritual of ours. He gently tipped the bottle upwards to let the liquid swirl down my throat. I took a little to satisfy him. The cold fizz felt nice on my dry throat.

"More?" He asked, staring down at me.

I gulped and then nodded. He slowly lifted the bottle back to my aching lips and let me take another sip. His eyes were dreary, he'd taken something for sure.