It’s been months since I’ve done anything with my hair or even applied any makeup that was more than just a little bit of mascara. Running my fingers through my loose curls, I tuck the pieces that frame my face behind my ears and inspect my eyeliner, making sure that there’s not a line of makeup out of place. It’s been months since I gave a shit about what I looked like, but for the first time since then, I actually feel good about how I look.
I look like a real fucking human. Or what you would expect one to look like, simply hiding how I truly feel deep inside, like the rest of society.
Turning to the side, I run my hands down the front of my dress and across my stomach. The soft material falls just above my knees, but it’s become looser. I’ve definitely lost weight over the past few months and it shows.
“Damn, girl,” Sloane croons as she strolls into my bedroom. She stops beside me, looking us both up and down in the mirror. “You’re a bombshell. I might just be switching teams tonight if you’re gonna be walking around looking like that.”
A laugh slips from my lips and it’s a foreign sound to both of our ears. Sloane’s eyes widen subtly and I bump my shoulder into hers, brushing it off. “Don’t lie. You know you’re on the hunt for some fresh D tonight.”
“Touché.” She chuckles. “It’s been a minute since I’ve gotten laid, and I’m definitely on the prowl tonight.”
Sloane hooks her arm through mine and leads me out of the room and through our apartment. She pauses in the kitchen, grabbing her keys from the counter as we both grab our purses. “You ready to do this shit?”
That’s a loaded fucking question.
She was considerate enough to not throw me a party for my birthday, but there was a party at Jimmy’s tonight and he always throws a banger. It may not be a party specifically for me, but I don’t doubt whether or not she’ll go out of her way to make it known that we’re celebrating my birthday too.
“Fuck it.” I shrug, offering her a fake smile. “Let’s do it.”
Sloane throws her arms in the air, letting out a celebratory cheer, and grabs my hand, pulling me along with her out the door.
Jimmy’s house is packed when we get there. There’s very little room to move as we push through the sweaty bodies grinding on each other through the house. The bass is loud as it pounds through the speakers and the walls vibrate from the intensity of the music. I follow Sloane into the kitchen where she promptly mixes us some strong drinks.
She shoves a cup into my hand and a small shot. I’m tempted to turn her down since I’m not drinking anymore, not sure if this is really what I want, but fuck. I need this more than I’ve needed anything else lately. I toss back the shot without a second thought and chug my drink. Sloane throws back her shot and watches me, raising her eyebrows with a nod of appreciation. She doesn’t say a word as she takes my cup from me and fills it back up.
We lean back against the counter in silence, listening to the loud music and watching the sea of people dancing. Everyone’s drunk or on some kind of drug, but it works. I’ve craved this and I know my limits, but perhaps tonight there is no limit. It’s time for me to let loose and just enjoy it all. Fuck that blue-eyed bad boy that relentlessly haunts my mind.
Tonight’s about forgetting everything.
We each fill our red Solo cups up a few more times until we’re both feeling the alcohol flowing freely through our systems. Sloane grabs my hand and pulls me with our drinks out into the crowded living room. I’m already drunk and the liquor keeps going down easier with every sip I take. Sloane lets the music take control of her body and loses herself with the beat. I follow her lead, letting it consume me and move my hips along to the thumping of the bass.
The house party is wild, the music is bumpin’ and the drinks are flowing. We don’t stop, dancing along with anyone who steps into our space and everyone’s on the same wavelength. The room is dark and strobe lights pulsate with the bass, illuminating the room and the bodies around us. I spin around, moving to the beat, and find Sloane’s back turned to me as she dances with some guy.
Smiling to myself, I watch her grind against him, knowing that she’s already secured her prey for the night. She’s always so worried about me, she deserves this tonight as much as I do. As she spins around, she grinds her ass against his pelvis and glances up, catching my eye. With a sinister grin on her face, she winks at me as the guy behind her grabs a hold of her waist.
At the same time, I feel a pair of hands fall onto my hips, pulling me back against a firm, warm body. I can’t see his face, but I can smell his cologne and instantly know that it’s Ryland. I move with him as he grinds his hard cock against my ass through his pants. His hands slide up the sides of my dress and he pulls me back against his chest, still moving along to the music with me.
Ryland’s warm breath tickles my neck as he brings his lips to my ear. “Happy Birthday, beautiful,” he breathes against my skin as his lips brush the shell of my ear. I shiver in response as the alcohol warms my body, along with his words.
Tilting my head back, I rest it on his chest and my eyes flutter open as the strobe lights blink rapidly. Ryland grinds against me harder and I catch Sloane’s eye. She wags her eyebrows at me, winking with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. The guy behind her lifts his head as the lights flash again, illuminating his face.
The black mop of hair on his head falls off to the side and his eyes lock with mine. My body abruptly stills and a wave of nausea rolls in the pit of my stomach.
It’s fucking Troy.
Ryland lightly holds on to my hips, but his hands fall away as I stumble away from him. Sloane abruptly stands upright, her brows pinched together in confusion. Troy wraps his hands around her shoulders, steadying her on her feet as she sways. My eyes are wild as they bounce between the two of them, not knowing what the fuck is going on.
My legs wobble as I dart to the side, pushing through the crowded room and run blindly for the door. I’m too drunk to give a shit as I knock into multiple sweaty bodies as I run in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between Troy and me as possible.
I finally make it to the back door and push through it in a rush, stumbling out back onto the patio. Surprisingly, there aren’t many people out there and the pool is empty. Fully clothed, I walk directly to the water and step into the cool liquid on the stairs. I follow the steps down until I’m up to my waist in the water.
My dress floats in the water with the ends of my hair following behind. As I wade deeper into the pool, my movements create small ripples in the water and my saturated locks of hair flow along with the water as it moves. I keep walking until my feet can no longer touch and I’m forced to move my arms and legs to stay afloat.
I tread water for a solid minute before inhaling deeply through my mouth. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes, and allow my body to sink until I’m entirely submerged underwater. My movements stop and I’m suspended in the water, floating beneath the surface. Opening my eyes, the chlorine burns, but I’m too drunk to care. I’m too lost in the whirlwind inside my head to fully know what I’m doing. I can’t process any of this.
I came here to forget about Ander. He was completely out of my mind. When Ryland touched me, I expected memories of Ander to flood my senses, but they didn’t. I was lost in my own little world, just caught up in the moment. And then fucking Troy just had to show up. He had to show up and end up being the guy that Sloane was going to take home tonight.
I couldn’t care less if Sloane fucked him, she can do whatever she wants to do with him. What I don’t want is for me to see him. I don’t want to be anywhere near him. He might not be Ander, but he’s the closest thing in my life anymore and he’s almost as much of a painful reminder himself.
As if on cue, I’m overcome with the memory of being here with Ander before. Back when things were easy, before he ended up as a full-blown addict and before everything between us was destroyed. We barely even had a chance to fully start something, but I was
already lost for him, lost in him, and he was it for me.
Now, here I am, drunk as fuck and alone. Alone in the pool where we had our first kiss. It was a memory I would always cherish, but right now, it rips my wounds open even farther and rips me to shreds. My heart breaks all over again and an unwanted sob tears through my body.
I can’t fucking take this anymore.
Closing my eyes against the harshness of the chlorine, I open my mouth as my body wracks with sobs and a scream tears through me. The water drowns it out and I’m left alone in silence, drowning in my own sorrows.
8
Ander
A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck as I walk along the uneven rocks scattered on the ground beneath the bridge. The sun is blazing with its heat radiating off the chunks of broken blacktop within the mixture of gravel. It burns my skin through the worn soles of my sneakers. I’ve been walking in these shoes for what feels like months now, but it’s only been about two weeks. It’s hard to tell the time when you don’t have anything to go off of but the moon and the sun.
When I left, I had no idea where I was going and I left with a few changes of clothes and the sneakers on my feet. After staying up for three nights after a bender with some crystal, I spent a few nights sleeping in the park before ending up here. It’s like a small community built for homeless people in this area. Everyone knows that under most of the underpasses, the homeless community has their own little towns.
That’s really giving it a lot more credit than it actually is.
It’s really just like tent city.
It was a struggle at first, trying to make any money without Anya, but I don’t need her now that I have my own system. Shoving my hands into my front pockets, I clutch the cash and coins inside that I got just from panhandling for a few hours. It’s easy money, it requires little effort, and I’ve been making enough to keep a steady stream of drugs flowing in my bloodstream.
I pick at one of the scabs on my face and the skin over the bridge of my nose burns as my nail scrapes it. My naturally tanned skin is easily damaged nowadays and standing in the sweltering heat in the direct sunlight has been leaving me with a consistent red tinge.
I wander through the scattered tents and sleeping bags, stopping when I reach the underpass. Dropping my bag onto the dirt ground, I crouch down and slowly pull the zipper open. I left without a blanket or a pillow, so I’ve been using my already dirty clothes to cover up with and stay warm. After the sun falls, a slight chill settles in the air, and if you spend all day in the heat, it’s definitely an adjustment. Not to mention the fact that I’ve increasingly become more cold intolerant, but that could be from a number of different factors. I’ve lost a considerable amount of weight, but that’s what happens when the only thing you’re hungry for doesn’t give you any nutrition. I only have an appetite for drugs, and that will always need to be satiated above everything else.
What bothers me more than the cold is the filth that I live in. Most times, I’m too high to even notice, but then there are those fleeting moments when I have a clear head and truly look around and wonder what the fuck I am doing here. Pride doesn’t come with the territory here, but I need some level of cleanliness. The closest thing that I get to a shower is washing off in one of the fountains at the park or splashing some water on myself in a public restroom. I was sure to grab my deodorant before I left and a toothbrush and toothpaste. I hate being dirty and not having a shower, but it’s all in the game. I refuse to let myself smell like an Italian sub with legs, and I’m conscious enough to chase away meth mouth.
I settle on the ground, collecting everything I need and melt down the black powder, ready to inject it into the first vein I can find. The tip of the needle disappears into the dark poison as I pull back on the plunger, filling the syringe with the liquid. I hold it in between my teeth as I find a tourniquet, not trusting my surroundings to set it down anywhere. A vast majority of the people that live under this bridge are junkies, and every single one of them is just as shady as I am. If I wouldn’t hesitate to snatch someone else’s junk, I’m not putting it past any of them to do the same.
My shoelace frays further, barely strung together anymore as I pull it from the holes in my sneaker. With it falling apart like it is, it doesn’t work like it used to as a tourniquet, but it will suffice. My options are limited, just like the supply of veins that are still viable places to shoot the dope into, but one way or another, I’m getting high. I wrap it around my arm as tightly as I can and replace the syringe in my mouth with one end of the shoelace.
A shadow passes over me, followed by a deep voice.
“Who the fuck said you can crash here?”
Biting down on the end of the shoelace, my jaw clenches tighter as I glance up at the cracked-out kid standing in front of me. His frame is large, but he’s considerably skinny and his bloodshot eyes bug out as he glares down at me. His face is covered in scabs and his top lip curls upward, showing the advanced decay on his teeth.
Ignoring him, I cast my eyes down to my forearm as I smack my skin with my two fingers, willing a vein to come to the surface. The blue streaks on my arms are all superficial, and none of the veins that show are going to help me find the high that I’m chasing after. If anything, I’m just going to stick the needle in there and dig around, only to come up empty.
The bottom of his boot catches my hand, ripping open a scab as he kicks the syringe from my hand. “I asked you a question, motherfucker.” His voice booms, bouncing off my eardrums as he snaps at me.
“Fuck off,” I growl at him, leaning onto my hands and knees. The needle landed just a few feet away, but I barely have the energy to stand up again. Plus, as soon as I get it and put it in my bloodstream, I’m just going to be back on the ground anyway. I make a move to crawl closer to the syringe, knowing that once I have it, all of these problems will vanish.
When it comes to drugs, it’s as if a set of blinders find their way onto my face and nothing around me matters—including the crackhead that’s looming over top of me right now. I know when I’m in danger, I know when I should run instead of fight, but when you sprinkle a little bit of heroin into the situation, any logic goes out the window.
It shouldn’t be a surprise when the wind is completely knocked out of my lungs and I’m lying on my back, staring up at the underside of the concrete bridge. My entire chest is set on fire, starting in the middle of my sternum, and the pain runs down each and every rib. I gasp for air, struggling to catch my breath as I claw at the ground beneath me.
“You think you can just come here and get high and not share with me?” The crackhead sneers as small droplets of spit spray through the gaps in his mouth with every word he speaks. “It’s time for you to pay up, bitch.”
Cutting my eyes at him, I lift my head slightly. “Fuck you,” I croak, still struggling to catch my breath. “I don’t owe you shit.”
He doesn’t give my lungs a chance to expand as he drives his toe back into my ribcage again. This time though, it isn’t just a single kick. He moves his leg back and forth, kicking me over and over again with as much strength as he can muster. The blood rushes to my head, filling my ears with the sound of my pulse as he screams at me. His mouth doesn’t stop moving, but I can’t hear a word that he’s saying.
I can’t breathe, but I find myself on my side, curled up in the fetal position with my emaciated arms wrapped around my head in an effort to protect myself as he delivers blow after blow. He’s relentless as he kicks the shit out of me and the taste of metallic lands on my tongue as my mouth fills with blood. My vision grows spotty and my head spins with the dizziness that consumes my mind.
If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to fucking kill me.
Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. All of this will be done and over with.
The blows slowly cease and he must have gotten his fill of beating me senseless. That’s what these people do though. That’s the kind of thing I would do if I needed to. I’m b
arely conscious as my face has already started to swell, taking on the appearance of someone who lived in Chernobyl after the nuclear disaster.
With one eye completely swollen shut, I crack the other one open just enough to watch the guy crouch down beside my head. He plucks the syringe from the ground, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as he turns to me with a smirk. “This is mine now.”
Fuck you.
My lips part slightly and a shallow breath escapes instead of the words I want to say. I don’t have the energy to talk or even the brainpower at this point. I can barely stay conscious enough to watch him taking my dope from me.
“I’ll see you soon.” He sneers with a wink as he stands back up. My one open eye trails after him, but the movement is enough to send another wave of dizziness through me. It’s too much and I welcome the darkness as it sucks me under.
9
Hadley
As drunk as I was last night, sleep was like a distant memory. Any time that my mind finally shut down and my body would drift off to sleep, it didn’t take long for me to wake up in a panic. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Ander’s lifeless body on the floor in his apartment. My dreams have become nightmares and the last time I saw him, his overdose, has been what haunts me during the darkest hours.
Most nights I’m able to get some sleep, even if it’s only for a few hours, but it’s as if alcohol has the opposite effect on me. While it has me wasted and ready to pass out, it reacts differently with my brain. It fuels the very things that I keep locked away inside and fight hard to avoid. Whenever I’m drunk, it all comes rushing to the front of my mind and I’m caught up in the memories, reliving them one by one.
Black Clouds of Cotton (In Vein Series Book 2) Page 4
