Just wanna say a massive thank you to those who are still reading this story. So sorry that my updates are very slow but I have school to think about!!! Xoxo

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Darkness. Complete and utter darkness surrounds her. The only sound that could be heard were her steady breaths and voices from outside her room door. Sweat drips off her body, the heat of the thick purple blanket is suffocating, but Khai ignores it. Her muscles ached, but not as much as her heart. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to drift off. That's all she had been doing these four days since the dance had passed. Four days since she contacted Harry, or he her...

The burning fact that Harry non existent attempt to contact her bit at her mind with each chance it got. She couldn't help but think, "Maybe it's his way of ending it...". You couldn't really blame her though, the love of her life was grown by a racist man and she couldn't change.

Khai pinched her wet skin, wincing at the pain. Her skin was filled with red blotches all over. Every time the reminder of the fact that she couldn't change, no matter how hard she tried, she would grab a tight hold of her soft skin, leaving a bruise there in the process.

A knock on her door broke the silence that consumed her. It was an incessant sound she had grown used to. It didn't stop. It never stopped. But Khai Jackson couldn't find it in within her to come out the cocoon she had engaged herself in to unlock the door. Guilt rushes through her veins as she realizes that whoever is on the other side... Just wants to help. But that's it, they couldn't. Her mother nor Violet could help the state in which she was in. Because... She just couldn't... Change.

Another sound she had grown accustomed to sends vibrations through her ear canals; her stomach. Khai had been feeding off mints and a bag of already pulled Lays that was luckily in her room. It's no doubt she's lost weight. The knocking begins once more, and so, a headache occurs.

Khai groans in pain, just wishing that her precious Harry would come to her rescue. That he would cuddle with her, ensuring that everything will be okay. That he loved her as much as she loved him. That she didn't need to change.

But that was not going to happen.

Because that night, and the night before, and the night before, he drank.

He wanted to drink until his liver shriveled up, he wanted a bottle in his hands until his fingers forever curled around the neck. He needed his throat to burn so badly that it caught on fire.

Because he was never good enough for her, and his mind hasn't seemed to grasp the concept that he will never be good enough for her. Not now, not ever.

He demanded another bottle. His words slurring together in one continuous sentence. He hiccuped into his hand as he reached for his sixth bottle of vodka, but failing in the process. He looked at his long time friend, itching to ask a question but refraining because he felt the need to throw up.

"Do you think I'll ever be good enough for her?"

Liam looks at the drunk curly haired fellow, grimacing. "I am not drunk enough for this," he murmurs.

Again, he reached for the blue bottle with the familiar word embedded on it and the liquid inside it that he so craved. He fell on his ass, laughing in the process. He pressed his back against the carpeted floor of Liam's room, giggling at the moving ceiling.

"But what if I can never find someone who'll love me like her again?"

"Do I look like Dr. Phill to you?" The brown eyed, deep voice lad pops a pill in his mouth before staring at the mess in front of him. "I'm the worst guy possible to come to about this shit mate. I mean, look what happened with me and Danielle."

And with that being said, the two never utter another word for the rest of the night. They just replace the blood in their systems with alcohol and drugs.

Notes