Slutgarden

Alexx’s POV

I sat in the kitchen with Alecia, passing back and forth a strawberry swisher packed with strawberry kush. The smoke slowly flowed out of my nostrils as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. “Good shit, eh?” Alicia asked me. I didn’t respond, keeping my mouth shut as well as my eyes.

The feeling washed over me. Time slowed, sensitivity increased, an uncontrollable smile appeared on my face. This was the feeling I constantly craved. Not an addiction sort of craving, but a craving that one would have for the one they love’s touch. And this was the thing I loved, and this was its touch.

I slowly opened my eyes, and out of my peripherals I could see Harley walking into the room and sitting down on the floor beside me. I took a hit then passed it over to her, watching her wince at the burn in her throat.

She smiled and exhaled the smoke. “Feeling better?” I asked her. I had noticed her looking extremely uncomfortable earlier.

She laughed and nodded, and reached over me to hand the blunt to Alecia.

Looking down at her lace sleeve, I noticed a bright crimson underneath it, splotched all over her forearm. I delicately grabbed the fabric and rolled it up. Her tiny arm pulled away immediately, but I could still see the blood still slowly trickling out of a few of the dozens of cuts.

Rage washed over me.

“What the fuck, Harley?!” I nearly yelled, standing up and towering over her. Alecia looked up at me with her big, bloodshot brown/hazel eyes, looking slightly terrified.

“I’m..I’m sorry. Its not that big of a deal, Alexx. Its really no-”

“Oh yeah Har. That isn’t a big deal at fucking all. You just fucking slaughtered your arm at a party full of fucking people. I thought you were fucking done with this, dumbass.”

She looked down, I could tell her eyes were watering up. Mercy and remorse began to rise in me, but my rage fought it down. I loved her like a sister, and seeing her doing this just pissed me off more than possibly anything else.

“Your mom has fucking gotten you into therapist after therapist, trying to fucking help you. We all fucking worry about you. And this is what you fucking do? Carelessly do this? Like its fucking nothing? Fuck you Harley. Fuck. You.”

I walked out of the kitchen, shaking my head. I felt bad for yelling at her, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. What the fuck else was there to do, anyways? Try and help her, but have it thrown right back in my face, or sit and watch her destroy herself?

And right now, I don’t think I could do either.

*

Zebekiah’s POV

Sitting in the passenger seat of Jeremy’s car, I emptily stared out the window. We decided to skip Derek’s party, and go back to Jeremy’s place with two girls we picked up at Nixon. One had disgustingly dyed red hair with black bangs and a septum piercing. Her name was Abbi. Her friend, a tall, thin girl with long black hair (probably extensions) and a medusa piercing, was named Rochelle. They sat in the backseat, giggling at Jeremy’s lame jokes and overused compliments. I didn’t find either of them attractive, and I hoped they would be up for a threesome with him, because I wasn’t going to touch either of them.

We pulled into the driveway of his house, and all left the car. I walked on the left side, avoiding Abbi and Rochelle.

They both had a mix of acne and pock marks, and their hair was greasy. They strutted along like they were hot shit, but they most definitely weren’t. They sort of amused me though, with such cockiness. I mean, it was a lot more entertaining than watching someone walking with their head hanging down..in a way.

Walking into his house, I watched them look around. Trying to act impressed or interested, I assume. Jeremy plops down onto the couch and flips the TV on with the remote with ease. Obviously comfortable with the situation.

I sat down in the recliner, wondering why Abbi and Rochelle were just standing there, sliding their phones open and closed. I watched Jeremy smile at my observation that was making itself apparent on my face. He looked over at the girls, then switched eye contact to Abbi, and patted on the cushion next to him.
She smiled and walked over, even more awkwardly sitting down.
Rochelle stood there, looking annoyed and staring at the ceiling. I laughed slightly and scooted over slightly to the right in the chair, motioning to the arm. Of course, I didn’t find her attractive when she was up close anymore than before. She smiled a forced smile, brushing her straw like pin straight black hair out of her eyes. I flashed her a slight, meek smile then looked in the other direction.

How did Jeremy always put me in these situations. With the ugliest of the girls, yes it was possible, that he would bring over. I mean, at least give me something decent to look at. Even though none of them were ever decent.

“So..” she said lowly, slowing forming a soft smile. “Whatcha thinking about?”

She dragged on the last letter of ‘about’, ending it with a slight clicking sound made with her tongue and roof of her mouth. I rolled my eyes then turned my head to look at her, “You first.” I said in a monotone voice. She smiled, once again, and looked down, brushing her hair with her hand even more.

Looking back up, she smiled then slightly bit her lip, pretending to dust something off my shoulder. “How cute you are.”

Scoffing, I looked at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” she responded, finishing it with the redundant grin.

I scoffed again, this time it being more of an annoyed chuckle. I looked down this time, placing my elbows on my knees. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to think of a way to deal with her. I looked up, seeing Abbi already on top of Jeremy, tongue in his mouth.

Tearing my eyes away from the two swapping spit, I forced myself to look back at her. She had a look on her face, as if she was expecting me to tell her how ‘gorgeous’ she was. That definitely wasn’t going to happen. I stood up, nothing the fact Abbi was getting to work on his belt.

“Lets go outside. Get some..fresh air.” I said, pushing past her.

I was kind of angered with Jeremy, but was that anything new? He yet again stuck me with some girl for a nice, long, awkward hour or two. Sitting down on his steps, I pulled a nearly full pack of Newport Reds out of my pocket and lit one up, staring off into space, not paying Rochelle any attention.

I could feel her eyes on me, not sure if she was feeling as awkward as I or if she wanted a cigarette. Well if she wanted one, she’d have to ask. Because I’m not a gentleman to trashy girls like her.