Popping Cherries

“Rose, I don’t think you’re fat,” I say, it upsets me when she assumes I think she is. She’s the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes upon and for some reason I can’t seem to get that through her head.

She gives me a tender smile and twirls around in a frilly black dress, “You think your friends will like?”

“They’ll be jealous,” I reply, she skips herself into my arms, giggling, “You’re like a beautiful rose.”

"Don’t be silly, Oli,” She sighs, “Shall we?”

A smile breaks out on my face and I nod. Public sex is the best sex. At least, that’s what Rose says. First we snort a line, to make it more exciting and to get a bigger rush.

My eyeballs feel like they’ll pop out of my head and I sniffle a little as my hands fumble pulling off her dress. I bury myself inside her and she grabs my shoulders.

“Is that all?” Rose taunts, pulling my face closer to hers.

Fuck, I wish I could do this all day long.



“Hey, what took yeh two so long?” Matt quickly shakes his head, “Never mind, I don’t wanna fuckin’ know.”

Rose and I grin in unison and loop our arms together. I know my friends, and brother, hate her but I can’t get enough of her. If I didn’t believe in infatuation before, I sure as fuck did now. The cocaine is just an added bonus.

She has a spectacular smile and beautiful, long brown hair that I can submerge my face in. I’m glad no one else has an interest in her, because I want her completely to myself. If anything, I am definitely not good at sharing-

“Hey, Oli,” Renee is shaking my shoulder and I stare up at her, startled, “Jane wants to speak to you.”

“Aye,” I nod, only a week left until I’m home free, and all I can think about is Rose. She really isn’t all that bad of a person, she just has a lot of shitty problems, and well, so do most people. But those shitty problems of hers were slowly killing me, and weirdly enough, it took Rose ratting me out and meeting Cashier Girl, to realize it.

“Mr. Sykes, I needed to speak with you!” Jane says happily, but not an exaggerated happy, she genuinely sounds like it. Which is nice to hear in Pale Sand. “I was wondering something…”

“Hm?” I grunt, resting myself in a plush couch.

“Can you tell me about this ‘Rose Atwood’?”

This comes as a complete punch in the guts and I almost have to gasp to catch my breath.

“Why?”

I feel the need to protect her identity. Whether it’s from the years of physical and mental abuse, or the side effect of being with-drawn from the cocaine, I have to.

“Well… was she your drug dealer, Mr. Sykes?” Jane asks, quietly. Probably afraid I’d snap her head off. Since I don’t answer, she proceeds speaking anyway, “We’ve noticed that some of our patients that come through here tend to have some sort of attachment to their dealer, and well, I’ve heard you speak about her a couple times to… Renee, and I’m curious. Who is she, Oliver?”

I stare at her for a long period of time, I could give her away now and she’d probably end up being in rehabilitation or in jail for the rest of her life. Yet, I don’t have any need for revenge, I just want to forget her. Forget she ever existed.

“She’s nothing.”