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@bethany-burke-blog
Sloane held her hands up instinctively, a horrified expression painting her face. “Beth–Bethany, no! Put those back, those are my mom’s xanax and you know how strung out she gets.”
Bethany was taken back for a second, a small “oh” forming on her lips before common sense got the better of her. “What are they doing here, then?”
Fuck. King jumped out of the couch and strode over to Bethany. “How about we talk about this? Hm?” he asks, catching her wrist of the hand that she’s holding the bag with.
Bethany should’ve known it was him; she wasn’t surprised. A little disappointed, maybe, but not surprised in the slightest. Tugging back her hand away from his grip (to no avail), she glared daggers at him. “There’s nothing to talk about, Kingston.”
“I completely agree, flush ‘em.” Cam eyed the bag warily. “We probably shouldn’t have any narcotics in the house.”
“Finally, someone with some common sense.” Bethany gave an approving nod before flipping the bag upside down so that the pills spilled into the toilet, hitting the water with small ploops and plops. “Because God knows that no one else in this house has any.”
“What? Nonono! No, Bethany!”, she runs after the girl, reaching for the bag. “It’s mine, okay?”
Bethany jerked the bag back, just out of the other girl’s reach. “Yours? For what, exactly?” Suspicion laced her voice.
“BETHANY!” Tanner yelled skidding into the room, almost running into the wall from the left over speed he had. Placing his hand on the wall to steady himself he continued to frantically yell. “DON’T! THOSE ARE FOR MY ANXIETY!”
It was sort of amusing, watching Tanner slide in at full speed, nearly crashing unceremoniously into the wall. What was even more amusing were the words that came out of his mouth next. “Your anxiety?” She questioned, dangling the bag of pills precariously over the toilet. “And what anxiety is that, exactly?”
“Whose are these? Whose?” Bethany demanded, holding up the bag of pills she’d found in the kitchen cabinet. “No takers, hm? Down the toilet they go.”
