Forbidden

Leaning against a light post on the corner of Hillcrest and Vine, Jason DiMera surveyed the area around him with intense scrutiny. There were two things he needed the be on the lookout for: first was the police. The men in blue had a knack for hiding in the shadows, and popping out at the perfect moment to catch law breakers in the act. Jason had never been one of those unlucky victims, but it was always smart to be aware.

The second thing, or rather, person, he needed to look out for was currently making his way toward the corner of Hillcrest and Vine. It was a teenager, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, and Jason couldn’t help but pity the kid.

“Hey, man. You got the stuff?”

Jason straightened up and flashed his patented grin. “Do you have my cash?”

“Of course I have the cash. Here.”

The kid reached into his pocket and pulled out a clip of money. Unraveling a couple bills, he held out his trembling hand for the dealer to take. It was then that Jason realized, the teen was obviously in withdrawal.

“All right, here you go, kid. Knock yourself out.” He handed over the little baggy containing a white substance, and the teenager snatched it out of Jason’s hands dramatically. Almost immediately, he took off running in the opposite direction. “Yeah, you’re welcome!” The dealer shouted after him.

Shaking his head, Jason turned on his heel and began a pursuit back to his car. He fought the emotions running through his body; the thoughts making their way into his mind. It was times like these that he wished he had a line of his own, which was definitely a tough thing to swallow considering he had decided a couple months prior to cut back on the hard stuff. On top of everything else going on in his social life, things in the DiMera household were worse than ever, and they were main reasons for the downfall beginning to reform deep inside.

As he got into his car, Jason’s pocket began to vibrate, thankfully interrupting his destructive thoughts, and he leaned over a bit to fish his phone out.

“Yeah,” he answered, starting up the vehicle.

“Jason.”

“What?”

“Did you get my vodka?”

He sighed at the drunken voice practically spitting at him through the speaker. “Yes, mother, I got your precious vodka.”

“Don’t talk to me like that! Where the hell are you, anyway?”

“I’m on my way home now, ma, so can you let me go?”

“Fine, but hurry up. I’m almost done with my glass and I don’t want to have to start in on the whiskey. That’s only for extra special occasions.”

“That’s very interesting, ma. I’ll be right home, bye.”

He quickly hung up and threw his phone in the seat next to him. There was absolutely no doubt in Jason’s mind that his mother was going to be the death of him. He pounded his fist against the steering wheel in fury, and it was all he could possibly give to not start screaming his lungs out. He hated her, and it ate away at him more and more every day. It didn’t make sense; nothing that had to do with her did. There was no rhyme or reason to make up for the fact that he couldn’t stand his mother, yet he pretty much did everything he could for her—fed her, bought the things she needed—and for what? At the end of the day, he still could barely muster up any kind of love for the woman, and that was entirely her fault. Nothing Jason did or said could’ve changed where they were today.

“Thanks,” The alcoholic woman seethed, as she took the bottle out of her sons hand when he walked through the door.

“Mhm,” He grumbled back, turning and walking to the stairs that led up to his room.

Jason rolled a joint and lit it up the moment he was settled into his bed, inhaling long drags of it and taking his sweet time blowing them back out. The smoke blew into his eyes and stung them with malicious intent. It made him tear up slightly, but deep down he knew it wasn’t just from the drug.

“Fuck my life.”