Anesthetic (Dazed #1) Read online

  Anesthetic

  Dazed Series #1

  C.M. Radcliff

  Copyright © 2021 by C.M. Radcliff

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover Designer: Cassie Chapman at Opulent Swag and Designs

  Editor: Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor

  For everyone who has ever been lost in the pits of Hell. Sometimes, you don’t need to find your way out. Sometimes you just need to find the one who knows their way around the flames.

  Contents

  Warning

  1. Killian

  2. Ainsley

  3. Killian

  4. Ainsley

  5. Killian

  6. Ainsley

  7. Killian

  8. Ainsley

  9. Killian

  10. Ainsley

  11. Killian

  12. Ainsley

  13. Killian

  14. Ainsley

  15. Killian

  16. Ainsley

  17. Killian

  18. Ainsley

  19. Killian

  20. Ainsley

  21. Killian

  22. Ainsley

  23. Killian

  24. Ainsley

  25. Killian

  26. Ainsley

  27. Killian

  28. Ainsley

  29. Killian

  30. Ainsley

  COMING IN FEBRUARY 2022

  About the Author

  Also by C.M. Radcliff

  Warning

  This book deals with many different topics that can be triggering. Without spoiling it, one of the main themes of this story deals with substance abuse and addiction.

  Please proceed with caution, as Killian and Ainsley’s relationship is toxic and messy. If you choose to continue reading, hold on tight…it’s a bumpy fucking ride.

  One

  Killian

  Today marks the start of the second half of my senior year. Today marks hopefully the last day that I’ll be shuffled to a new home before I graduate high school. I don't know what is wrong with the goddamn foster system. These families get paid to take in and take care of less fortunate children. Most of them don't actually do anything. They take the money and feed us scraps or they just don't care. Occasionally, you run into an abusive household, but if you aren't an easy target, they'll usually just get rid of you.

  I got put in the system when I was fourteen, after my mom got popped for cooking meth in the basement of our apartment building. She went to jail and I never heard from her again. For all I know, she could be dead by now. That was three years ago. Three years have passed and I'm still being tossed from house to house.

  In a way, I get it. I'm seventeen now. I'm tall and broad enough to overpower most of the foster parents. I'm an asshole kid with a mental health history that would rival my mother's rap sheet. Most of it is all bullshit. I don’t know that I really have any true diagnoses, but it was more of the environment that I was living it. It was fucking survival, but most foster families don’t know that and roll right past me as soon as they hear. I'll be eighteen in less than a month and legally allowed to be on my own then.

  I won't have to worry about anyone but myself. I can finally be free from this fucking hell. But for now... for now, I'll be living with the Sinclairs.

  It's hot outside and the sun burns my back as I stand at the front door of the school. It's in the middle of the morning, probably in the middle of a period and here I am. The social worker dropped me off at the front door so she could go park. I'm a bit of a flight risk, so I can't be trusted to go in by myself.

  Miss Summers' heels clack on the concrete stairs as she heads toward me. "I should have just parked out front," she grumbles as she brushes past me, heading straight for the door. "Okay, Killian, I need you to please not mess this up. This might be your last chance at a home before you turn eighteen."

  I stare at her, twirling the silver bands around my fingers. She stares back at me, waiting for me to agree or something, but I don't. "You need to work on when you choose to be silent and not to be, because times like this aren't the time."

  She sighs, adjusting her bag on her shoulder and marches into the high school. River Valley High, home of the coyotes. I only know this because their mascot is plastered on literally every picture or paper that hangs on the walls around me. It looks like almost every other high school that I've been to in New Mexico; trust me, I've been to enough to know.

  I follow Miss Summers into the office and she talks quickly to the receptionist before coming to stand off to the side with me. "You will be staying with Raina and Marcus Sinclair. Since this was a last-minute arrangement and they didn't want to bombard you here at school, they will be picking you up afterward. I'll drop your stuff off at their house after I leave here."

  A sarcastic smirk works its way onto my lips and I snort. My stuff literally consists of two fucking bags. It's pretty goddamn pathetic. I've learned to live with the bare necessities and after growing up with a mom like mine, you learn how to make shit last or work with what you have. "What kind of car?" I ask her gruffly. I don't want to be that dumbass, standing out front all fucking lost.

  "Black Maserati SUV." Miss Summers shrugs apologetically. Great, so it's a family with money too. "Mrs. Sinclair said she'd be waiting out front, so just look for her car, I guess."

  Fucking awesome.

  This day just keeps getting better, but to be honest, this is better than camping out in the group home. Since I'm in and out of there so frequently, I don't have a room that is mine. I just crash wherever I can when I'm there. I'm a loner and I tend to keep to myself, so I don't have any relationships with any of the other guys in there, except for one. Courtland was the closest thing that I had to a best friend and we lived in a few foster homes together as well as the group home, but I haven’t seen him for a few months since he turned eighteen.

  Courtland was the only one who ever really had my back and I had his. In the group home though, everyone has to be out for themselves because that's the only way that we know how to live. On the rare occasion, a new kid shows up and wants to test everyone, see who he can easily fuck with.

  They usually get put in their place immediately and back down. Everyone knows that I'm not someone to fuck with and I have my past to thank for that. Years in the system, in and out of the group home with a bunch of shit head kids, and abusive foster parents. That kind of shit will make you tougher, rougher, and harder. I know how to fight because if I wouldn't have learned how to, my body would be rotting in the ground somewhere.

  Or probably a dumpster, since there's no one around that would care to give me a proper burial.

  "Miss Summers, Mr. Stone." A stout round man stands in the doorway on the other side of the room. "You can both come into my office now."

  Miss Summers quickly strides after him, glancing over her shoulder at me as she waves me along. I don't usually give off the best first impression. I mean, I'm seventeen, covered in prison-style tattoos... shout out to the one cool dude my mom dated... I have no style. Everything I wear is black, from my hair, down to my boots.

  My complexion is so pale, I could probably pass as a vampire. The only color that you might find when you look at me is my bright green eyes or the piercings on my face. The color isn't much, since it's just two silver hoops on each nostril and a bar in my eyebrow. I don't know what they expect though, I was never tau
ght anything differently. And none of this disqualifies me as a student.

  People just need to look inward and judge themselves if they're going to project their judgment onto others.

  The principal rounds his desk and extends his hand to shake both of ours before taking a seat. "I'm Mr. Warren and I've been the principal here at River Valley High for about ten years now. I understand that you are transferring here from another high school, Mr. Stone?"

  "He is," Miss Summers cuts in, knowing that I had no intention of fully indulging in this conversation. "I am the social worker from the county and I have been overseeing his foster placements. As I'm sure you read in his file, the Sinclairs will be fostering him."

  "I did see that," Mr. Warren says, nodding at her before directing his attention to me. "They are a very nice family and I'm sure you will do well there and here at school. It looks like all of your credits transferred from your previous school. Since the year has already begun, we were able to fit you into the classes that match up with all of your previous ones." He pauses as he slides a sheet of paper with my schedule on it. "We have different students that volunteer with new students to help show them around the school. I called to have yours meet you in the lobby after we are done here. Arlo is currently our valedictorian and she can help you find your locker and everything."

  "Okay," I reply indifferently when they both stare at me, waiting for some type of acknowledgment.

  Miss Summers purses her lips and her nostrils flare in disapproval. I'm used to being under her disapproving gaze. She's been stuck as my social worker for two years now and I haven't made her job easy. I tune them out as they finish talking about the mundane shit for me transferring here. It's the same conversation as it is with every change. I've heard the whole spiel before and I'm sure this won't be the last time.

  Mr. Warren dismisses us and we leave his office, walking back out into the lobby. Miss Summers gives me the same lecture to be on my best behavior and leaves me with strict instructions to call her if I need to. I've never called her before in the past, but I guess it's her way of extending some type of an outlet, for me to know that there is someone looking out for my best interest.

  It's all a lie, though. Miss Summers doesn't care any more than she has to. To her, it's just a job and that's exactly what she's doing. To me, though, it's my life. An extremely fucked up one, at that. I've never known any different. It's normal to me.

  I glance around the hallway when I notice a girl in a short dress and blouse tapping away on her phone. Her dark blonde hair is styled in perfect curls and I don't notice a single wrinkle in her clothing. Uniforms aren't part of the dress code here, but it looks like she stepped off of the front page of a pamphlet for a prep school or some shit.

  I look down at the schedule in my hand before glancing up at her. I'm sure she's the girl that Mr. Warren arranged to show me around the school. And she's the girl that I plan on keeping my distance from. I know her type, there's one of her in every high school and you can sniff her out in a group of girls. She's the head bitch and I have no intention of fucking with her in any way.

  Keeping my head down, I head down the hallway, walking right past her. Just as I'm about to round the corner and turn down the other hall, I hear her call out after me. I don't lift my head and keep moving, hoping to walk directly out of her view. I'm nothing more than an annoyance in her day, so I'll gladly lift the load and not force her to show me around.

  "Wait!" The girl trots after me, coming up behind me as she grabs my arm. I tear my limb from her grasp and glare down at her. She narrows her ice-blue eyes at me. "Your name is Killian, right? You're new here?"

  I shrug. I don't owe her anything because I want nothing from her. I don't need her help, I'm not her charity case.

  "I'm Arlo." She smiles sweetly as she extends her hand to shake mine.

  I glance down at her hand before lifting my eyes to continue glaring at her. I don't bother shaking it and her face falls for a moment before she recovers and plasters on that fake fucking smile again.

  "River Valley is a great school and we're thrilled to have you here. Let me see your schedule and I'll show you where your first class is."

  My eyes narrow into slits and I crumple the sheet of paper between both of my hands before tucking it into the front pocket of my hoodie. I give her a challenging stare, watching as her expression hardens.

  "Fine, have it your way," she scoffs, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "I'm someone that you want on your side, but forget that now. River Valley will chew you up and spit you out."

  Her words amuse me. Like she has any idea of the life that I've already lived. A smirk falls onto my face and I laugh lightly, shaking my head. Arlo spins on her heel in a huff after I thoroughly ruffle her fucking skirt. I watch as she strides away, before turning a corner and disappearing farther into the school.

  I pull the crumpled piece of paper from my hoodie pocket and straighten it out as a locker door closes behind me. I lift my head, turning around to look as a girl walks toward me. She has long, flowing pants on and a cropped tank top. Her white-blonde hair is long and braided and it sways behind her as she floats down the hall. She's fucking ethereal, like a goddamn hippie goddess.

  "Don't mind her," she says in a singsong voice as she pauses beside me. "Arlo's a cunt."

  I raise an eyebrow at her, amused and appreciative of her bluntness. She's petite and delicate like a flower petal, but when she speaks, her voice is like a melody that demands to be heard.

  She shrugs. "I call it like I see it." She pauses, her honey-brown eyes scanning my face. "I'm Ainsley."

  The sound that comes from my mouth is unintelligent as I grunt, giving her a curt nod. I'm uncomfortable under her gaze and I want her to float back to wherever she came from.

  "Do you have a name?" she questions me as her eyes settle on mine. She shivers under my frigid gaze, but her expression doesn’t falter.

  I want to say no. She doesn't need to know my name. After the Sinclairs meet me, I'm sure that I won't be here for very long. In a world full of faces, why can't I just be another nameless one? The bell rings throughout the hallway, abruptly interrupting our conversation.

  "Shit," she mumbles as the hallway begins to fill up with students that file out of their classrooms. "I can't miss my next class or I'm going to fail it." She glances up at me, adjusting the books in her arms. "Well, it was nice meeting you..."

  "Killian." My name comes out as a rush. I want to be a nameless face, but I want to hear her say my name from her lips. I want her to taste it on her tongue.

  "Cool." She smiles brightly. "See you around, Killian."

  I barely hear her voice over the crowd in the hall, but I hear it. Fuck, her voice is like a classical melody being played in the darkness of the witching hour. She winks before turning away from me. My eyes follow her until I lose her in the sea of kids.

  As quickly as she appeared, I shove the thought of her from my head. I glance down at the schedule in my hand, feeling slightly relieved. Chemistry isn't my favorite class, but it's one of the easier ones for me. I might not be able to tell you the history of our country, but I'm sure I could cook you a decent batch of meth. I blame it on my mother and her unconventional lab in our basement.

  This apple didn’t fall very far from the tree…

  Two

  Ainsley

  Hudson passes the joint back to me as he pulls out of the school parking lot and I take a hit. The smoke is harsh on my throat and I cough, choking violently as I exhale. "Holy shit." I laugh as I struggle to catch my breath. My chest constricts as my lungs burn. "What the hell is that?"

  He shrugs as he steps on the gas, passing another car on the narrow road. "Ezra didn't say what the name of it was." His blonde hair shifts to the side as he glances over at me with a devilish smirk. "I got some blow from him too."

  "So, where is it at? Because I know that you're gonna share with me."

  "Such a greedy bitch." Hudson winks
as he pops open the center console. He whips his Audi R8 around a turn. "It's in my sunglasses case."

  I grab the black case and take it out of the center console. The zipper doesn't snag as I pull it open, revealing the small baggie inside. I pluck it out, shaking it to break up the white powder. Hudson adjusts in his seat, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He hands it to me, and I take out his black Amex card.

  The small zipper on the baggie opens with ease and I dip the corner of the credit card inside, scooping up some of the coke. I hold the joint in my other hand as I lift the card up to my nose and inhale through one nostril. The powder burns as I breathe it in, feeling it build up at the back of my throat. I swallow hard in an attempt to avoid gagging from the taste of it on the back of my tongue.

  I take the card, scooping enough for Hudson, and hold it up for him while he continues to race down the streets. The engine purrs as he snorts the bump of coke. He clears his throat, showing me his perfect white teeth as he grins at me. I stick the card back into his wallet and pinch the baggie closed before setting them in the cupholder. Taking one last hit of the weed, I pass the joint to Hudson as we pull into the gated community that we both live in.

  We take the second turn onto my road and Hudson hands me a pack of gum and eye drops. I pluck out a piece of gum and put it in my mouth as I push the eyedrops back toward him.