Lost
The Cabin Is...
Our vacation is going well, for the most part. Chris wants to have a party tonight. The little one room cabin can not hold many people and his parties require many people. For the first time I am worried about the party. What if some one calls the cops? We would be put in jail because there will be drugs, there is always drugs. at home I am okay with the parties, but not here, we don't know the people here in whatever God forsaken town we are in, we know them at home.
While Chris is planning the party, I dig through our bags desperately trying to find the Xanax. I packed it in one of my many bags, but what one I can not remember. Xanax makes me forget. I need to forget my worries.
"Iris, what's wrong?" Chis asks as I lean against the wall holding my head in my hands.
"I couldn't find them. I fucking forgot them. I forgot the pills, Chris. I thought I brought them, but I didn't. I didn't bring them. They are at home and I am here without them," I snap then mumble, my words flowing into the next.
"You will be okay. So you forgot them, it's not the end of the world. Just take something else," he half smiles shrugging his shoulders.
He just doesn't understand. I need them, like really need them. I am worried about the party, about the police, about the drugs. What if we run out? What if we get caught with them? I am not sure what is worse, but I would guess that running out would be. We wouldn't be able to function if we ran out, if other people took them all. I am already going crazy because I forgot my fucking pills.
I continue to smoke the blunt I had lit a few moments ago, wishing Chris wasn't busy. It isn't fun getting high alone. I walk over to him and hand it to him while he is on the phone and he takes a drag holding the smoke in his lungs for a while before blowing out perfect circles. He passes it back to me and I repeat the same process.
A knock comes to from the door and Chris tells the person to come in after peering out the small window making sure that the person can be trusted. After Chris's long time friend, Hayden, enters, more people flood the small cabin.
I find a bag of a few MDMA tablets in my purse and take one of them waiting for the wonderful trip.
It is not wonderful. The walls begin to feel as though they are closing in and the ceiling looks as though it will fall on me at any moment. I an afraid. I will be killed by the collapsing cabin or trampled by the many people here. The trip is not good. It is bad. A bad acid trip.
Our whole vacation is bad. Chris is happy, dancing with his friends all of which are either drunk, high or both. They have fun, I don't. The whole damn cabin is going to fall on me. I know it will, I can already see it. I hate this cabin. It will kill me. It is too small, the people will knock it down and Chris doesn't even see it.
The cabin is too claustrophobic.
While Chris is planning the party, I dig through our bags desperately trying to find the Xanax. I packed it in one of my many bags, but what one I can not remember. Xanax makes me forget. I need to forget my worries.
"Iris, what's wrong?" Chis asks as I lean against the wall holding my head in my hands.
"I couldn't find them. I fucking forgot them. I forgot the pills, Chris. I thought I brought them, but I didn't. I didn't bring them. They are at home and I am here without them," I snap then mumble, my words flowing into the next.
"You will be okay. So you forgot them, it's not the end of the world. Just take something else," he half smiles shrugging his shoulders.
He just doesn't understand. I need them, like really need them. I am worried about the party, about the police, about the drugs. What if we run out? What if we get caught with them? I am not sure what is worse, but I would guess that running out would be. We wouldn't be able to function if we ran out, if other people took them all. I am already going crazy because I forgot my fucking pills.
I continue to smoke the blunt I had lit a few moments ago, wishing Chris wasn't busy. It isn't fun getting high alone. I walk over to him and hand it to him while he is on the phone and he takes a drag holding the smoke in his lungs for a while before blowing out perfect circles. He passes it back to me and I repeat the same process.
A knock comes to from the door and Chris tells the person to come in after peering out the small window making sure that the person can be trusted. After Chris's long time friend, Hayden, enters, more people flood the small cabin.
I find a bag of a few MDMA tablets in my purse and take one of them waiting for the wonderful trip.
It is not wonderful. The walls begin to feel as though they are closing in and the ceiling looks as though it will fall on me at any moment. I an afraid. I will be killed by the collapsing cabin or trampled by the many people here. The trip is not good. It is bad. A bad acid trip.
Our whole vacation is bad. Chris is happy, dancing with his friends all of which are either drunk, high or both. They have fun, I don't. The whole damn cabin is going to fall on me. I know it will, I can already see it. I hate this cabin. It will kill me. It is too small, the people will knock it down and Chris doesn't even see it.
The cabin is too claustrophobic.
♠ ♠ ♠
I hope you like it. Let me know if I should continue with this story or not. If I do, I promise that more about Chris will be in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! :-)