I Am Invincible

I found out the other day that it’s been nine months since I was attacked by Patrick in the hall at school. Nine months. I spent three of those doing nothing but what was needed for me to stay alive; eating, drinking, sleeping and breathing, all of those in the smallest amount possible. I guess I was shocked when I calculated that I’d been using the ‘happy’ pills for a little less than six months. The time had flown by so quickly. It was nearly the end of the school year and I hardly remember any of it. Those guys that had first sold me the drugs gave me the number of their supplier and I bought more from him when the first lot that I’d bought ran out. I know it was stupid, buying more. If I’d stopped using when I had the chance, when I’d run out the first time, I wouldn’t be in this mess now. But people would notice when I came down from my high. After Zach woke up after that first afternoon I’d snorted the ecstasy (the supplier told me what it was; he was surprised I didn’t know) to find me quiet and depressed and unable to let him touch me once again, he was confused and when I saw his face drop, it broke my heart. I wanted Zach to be happy, and I knew that he was happy when I was. I struggled to make a decision about how much Zach’s happiness was worth to me. I’d pondered the whole weekend about whether it was worth taking the drugs again just to see Zach smile like he did on Friday afternoon, and for me to feel as relaxed and euphoric as I did. I decided it was, so the following Monday morning before he came by to pick me up for school, I snorted again. And again at lunch time when I’d come down from my high halfway through English. I didn’t want to see the disappointed look on Zach’s face when he found I was sad again.

Just like the first time, every time I inhaled the ecstasy into my sinuses or swallowed one of the small white pills (which I’d learnt how to do when I didn’t have time to crush and snort), all I wanted from Zach was one thing and one thing only and I’d immediately attack him as soon as I saw him, no matter where we were. This was a regular occurrence and even though I was sure that people everywhere were saying that I was a slut behind my back because all I wanted was sex when I was high, I really didn’t give a shit and I was constantly begging Zach to take me home and fuck me. 9 times out of 10, he would tell me that I’d just have to wait until school was finished so that we could have sex in either of our houses and not where anyone would have the chance to watch free live gay porn, but one tenth of the time he would flat out refuse. This is when I would get pissed off and anxious that he didn’t want me anymore and do things I would regret later. I know I hurt him when I randomly started making out with some guy right in front of him because he wouldn’t give me what I wanted in the bathrooms at the local shopping mall, but I guess I really didn’t care at the time.

I don’t remember kissing that other guy, Zach reminded me of it when I was sober a few days later. And I don’t remember what I was doing in order for me to break my ankle about 2 months ago. I’d woken up on my bedroom floor with a feeling of exhaustion and an ankle that was twice the size it normally was. It turned out that I’d snapped it in three places but I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I’d done it. I think the doctor in the hospital took some blood from me to test for drugs when I was in surgery to reconstruct my ankle, but I can’t be sure. Anyway, nobody ever said anything so maybe I just made it up to scare myself.

Even with a heavy cast on my leg for eight weeks, I still found ways to do stupid and reckless things. Zach tried to protect me as much as he could but sometimes I’d wake up in random places half clothed and not knowing how I got there. I would forget to eat for days on end and only after figuring out that my stomach was screaming out for food would I ever eat anything. I would be constantly tired and I fell asleep on numerous occasions in class and then stayed up all night dancing around my room to music that I would never have considered listening to had I not been stoned out of my mind. I’d go to parties by myself and get blind drunk and end up hooking up with someone whose face I wouldn’t remember as soon as they walked away.

I became more and more dependent on the ecstasy as the months went on. Towards the end, I can hardly remember a time that I was not high. I always had a few pills with me wherever I went and I hid more around my room so that my supply was never low. I’m sure now, looking back, that people were suss. I’m almost positive that Zach and my parents and Declan had figured out how I managed to become so happy all of a sudden, but I’m also positive that they wanted to trust me, which is why they never said anything. I wish they had said something; maybe then I wouldn’t have become so addicted…