6. The Past
The Past
TJ
Cars linethe street when I round the corner. The music gets louder as I get closer. The smell of weed gets stronger too. Another house party. So much for sleeping tonight.
My ninth foster home is my favorite. I use the term favorite loosely. It’s like playing a game of Would You Rather? when both choices make you sick and you’re stuck picking the lesser of two evils. I’m not getting hugs or home-cooked meals, but I’m not getting hit. And when you’re a reject foster kid, that’s saying something.
I opt for the back entrance. It allows me to come and go as I please. My bedroom is an unfinished basement that smells like a mixture of mold and bleach. It might be dingy, but I sleep on a futon. Again, it’s the little things.
I lock the door behind me. My body stills when I notice someone sitting on my futon. “Get out.”
“That’s no way to treat a guest.” The voice belongs to a female.
I flip on the lights. Damn. Long legs. Auburn hair. Creamy skin. Full, pushed-up tits. She’s definitely older than me, but by how much I can’t tell. Either way, she’s out of my league.
“Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party upstairs?” I shrug off my jacket and toss it onto the floor.
“I’m having my own party down here.” She gestures to the items spread out beside her: needle, elastic band, spoon, and lighter. “Want to join me?”
“What kind of party is this?” I’ve seen people smoke weed and snort cocaine, but I haven’t been exposed to this.
“This is unlike anything you’ll ever experience.”
“How old are you?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”
I shrug and take a seat on the edge of the futon. “No one’s taught me much of anything.”
The woman tilts her head while she appraises me. “How old are you?”
“That depends on what time it is.”
She glances at her watch. “Twelve-thirty.”
“Then I’m sixteen.”
Her eyebrows lift. “It’s your birthday?”
“Yup.”
“You’re in luck, birthday boy. I’ve got the best gift for you.” She leans over and ties a piece of elastic around my bicep.
I let her, because she smells nice and I’ve got a clear shot down her shirt while she’s bending over like that.
She catches me looking. “Like what you see in there?”
I swallow and nod.
Leaning in another few inches, she brushes her lips against mine. “Have you ever had sex before?”
I shake my head. As if the tent in my pants isn’t enough of an indication.
She undoes the elastic on my arm and straddles me instead. Her skirt rides up her thighs and I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing any underwear. “Let’s change that.” She presses her lips to mine and grinds her hips against me.
I don’t know how long a dude is supposed to last, this being my first encounter with a female and all, but I’m pretty close to busting in my pants.
She fumbles with my belt. I help by unbuttoning my jeans and pulling the zipper down, hoping she doesn’t notice my shaking hands. She reaches into my boxers and pumps me a few times. Before I know what’s happening, she pushes me inside herself.
My eyes go wide. “Don’t we need protection or something?”
She throws her head back and laughs while she rides me. “I’m clean, birthday boy. Don’t worry. And I can’t get pregnant. My husband and I have been trying for years.”
Husband? How old is this woman?That thought is quickly replaced by the intense pleasure mounting in my dick. She’s so warm and wet. God, this feels so—and I just came.
The redhead laughs. I might not have experience, but I know laughter isn’t a good thing after you’ve just finished having sex with someone.
“We’ll go again,” she says. “That was just the warm-up.”
I do what she says and follow her lead. Put my hands here. Kiss her there. She teaches me what women like. I last longer the second time and manage to hold out until after she orgasms.
“How did that feel, birthday boy?”
“Amazing,” I say in between breaths.
She re-ties the elastic around my arm. “Yeah, well … an orgasm is going to seem like nothing after this.”
I watch as she holds the spoon above the flame of the lighter. I watch as the powder liquefies. I watch as she sucks it up with the needle. I watch as she smiles.
Right before the needle punctures my vein, there’s a voice screaming in my head. It’s telling me to stop. It sounds a lot like Mom.
“What will this do to me?” I ask.
“It will make all the pain go away.”
That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m sorry, Mom, but you’re not here.
I squeeze my eyes shut until the needle pulls out. While I’m waiting for something to happen, though I’m not sure what, the redhead injects herself with the needle.
At the many schools I’d been to, they’d always taught us about the dangers of using drugs. Sharing needles. Overdosing. Addiction. But no one ever tells us about how incredible drugs feel.
The rush of euphoria.
My arms and legs go limp. The memories that plague my mind day after day fade away into a haze.
I am in blissful oblivion.
And I never want to return.