40. Win
40
Win
Five Years Ago
H old the smoke in until it burns.
Chase it with stale beer.
Switch to liquor.
Follow with another blunt.
Repeat until the world blurs.
But it won’t be enough.
Because the pain is too loud.
Even in a room of strangers yelling over each other and the screech of house music, the only voices I hear are inside my head. Haunted fragments of real monsters meld with the sadistic sneers of my inner demons until I can’t distinguish between memories and fabrications.
“You came!”
The handle of vodka I polished off on the walk over sloshes in my stomach. Or maybe it’s nerves.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I ask .
Mason flashes a classic Cali boy smile— the kind that on the surface appears easy-going and welcoming, but on closer inspection hides a devious agenda. He’s four years older than me but for some reason still hangs out with his younger brother Cassius’s friends. Not that I’m close with Cass— the guy is the definition of a space cadet. (Talking to him is like having a conversation with a balloon.) But he’s oddly book-smart and lets me cheat off him. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend at school. And he introduced me to his brother.
Jury’s out on if that’s a good thing.
“Come on.”
Mason slings an arm around my neck, his oversized tee reeking of weed and body odor. I doubt I smell any better; I don’t recall the last time I showered. Dad’s been working twelve-hour night shifts since the pay is higher so he hasn’t noticed that I’ve been fucking sloshed for three days.
Would he care anyway?
He’s giving up. They all are. Mom used to call all the time, begging to talk to me, but after too many declines, she stopped. Richard texted me twice a year ago. I’ve become the elephant in the room. The problem they never asked for. The disappointment.
Yeah, I could reciprocate. I could strap on a mask and play the part. I could clean up my act. I could, I could, I could…
Or they could realize I’ve been telling them all along.
My silence is a scream to be heard.
My solitude is a plea for company.
My self-destruction is a cry for help.
So why isn’t anyone listening?
If my own parents deem me a lost cause, I must be.
Discarded cigarette butts smash under my boots as I cross the dingy living room behind Mason. A few glazed stares scan us, but most of the strung-out regulars don’t bother.
“Watch out! You’re going to ruin the garden!”
There’s no garden; only a girl on the floor rearranging cups. I dodge her disillusioned Zen paradise and skirt past a blaring sound system to catch up with Mason.
He glances over his shoulder, smirking as he leads the way down a dark hallway. My fingers dance against my thighs.
“Nervous, Bunny?”
Apparently, I remind him of the black rabbit he had growing up. I’d rather be called anything else.
“Nah, I’m good.”
That smile again— the one that wakes up my lizard brain. I shove natural instinct aside and tail him into a tiny, dirty bathroom. The door clicks shut, followed by the lock, dampening the noise.
It’s fine. It’s just Mason.
He shuffles to the peeling Formica counter, pulling some baggies out of his deep cargo pockets.
“You’re gonna fucking love this shit,” he grins, the foggy mirror warping it into something sinister.
“I don’t have cash on me.”
As if I'd ever have enough for whatever he's supplying.
His tongue clicks like a gong while he takes out a credit card and something else. “You telling me you came here thinking I’d give you freebies?”
My mouth dries out. In the cramped space, I can’t see what he’s doing.
“No, I—”
He barks a laugh, grasping my shoulder. “We can work something out, Bunny. Give this a try. ”
I’m dragged forward where four lines of fine powder wait patiently. There’s an invisible belt around my chest, restricting me from taking a full breath.
A firm hand grasps the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles as his scruff tickles my ear. “You wanna feel good, right?”
So badly.
“How about I go first?”
I nod.
He chuckles, shifting me aside— barely— and picks up the rolled-up dollar bill. Glancing at me, he winks and snorts two of the strips. His head tips back and his eyelids flutter.
“Fuck, yeah.”
I’m shaking.
What if I get caught? I’ll go to jail. Dad will be furious. Would it get his attention? It’ll piss him off if he has to bail me out. But what if I don’t get caught? What if it works? What if the pain stops?
The price of peace is steep.
“Fuck it."
Mason releases a manic giggle. “Damn straight, Bunny!”
Ignoring him, I pinch the rolled-up bill in trembling fingers and bend to the counter.
One… two…
Fire ignites my sinuses. I stumble back, eyes watering and nose burning, a metallic taste sliding down my throat. Mason’s hysterical cackles bounce off the walls like tambourines. Blinking away the blur, a fuzzy tingle begins in the center of my forehead, spreading and spreading.
“ Whoa .”
“Whoa is right, Bunny,” Mason snickers, slipping into the space in front of me. When did he grab my waist? It’s been so long since someone’s held me. My skin is warm and his hands are on my chest and they feel nice.
“I knew you’d like molly.”
“Molly,” I giggle. “What a stupid name.”
He snorts. I laugh harder. He was right. What was I scared of? This is amazing .
Time warps I'm not sure how long we giggle and babble and touch. It feels like hours and seconds simultaneously, but it doesn't matter either way because I'm floaty and fuzzy.
“You gotta pay up, now Bunny.”
“Sure, yeah.”
I’ll pay whatever as long as this lasts.
His smile stretches like one of those creepy clowns. It’s terrifying but kind of funny too. He lets go of me; I don’t want him to. But then, he undoes his fly and I think my nose wrinkles. I can’t be sure since my face is made of playdough. His hands return to my shoulders and—
Shove .
My knees hit the tile. It should hurt but I’m bundled in bubble wrap. Fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back. My heart pounds so hard, so fast; I'm afraid it’s going to burst through my ribs. I’m not tingly anymore— I’m itching. Fixating on the overhead bulb, my vision streaks, morphing it into a mini sun.
“Open up, Bunny.”
A thumb pries my jaw apart.
He pushes himself past my teeth—
This isn’t happening. Just look at the sun. You’re not here. It doesn’t hurt. You’re numb. It’s almost over. You’ve survived worse. He’s not as bad as them. Breathe.
Phantoms from the past sneak out of their rusted cages. Their taunts merge with Mason’s grunts until I’m choking, tears tracking down my cheeks. Not for the first time, the most dangerous of all thoughts blooms…
I don’t want to live anymore.
He finally finishes and pulls out. “I think I like this arrangement, don’t you Bunny?”
No.
Gasping, drool dripping down my chin, I’m unable to respond.
With a pat on the head, he zips up his pants and exits the bathroom. He’s gone no more than a minute before I’m scrambling to the toilet and vomiting.I puke until black vignettes my vision, body slumping to the tile. It’s filthy but it’s cool on my sweat-slicked skin. Above, the yellow bulb flickers.
My lower lip trembles.
Not a sun.
No… my sun is on the opposite side of the country.
And without him to light up the night, I’m slowly dying.