Sound Effects and Overdramatics

I leaned back against the couch, waiting for the first wave to take over, the band still around my arm, the syringe dumped into a trashcan.

Lala swept my hair away from my forehead and leaned down to kiss it with a smile. "You look like shit." She pointed out.

I chuckled and kept my eyes closed. "I feel like shit." I mumbled. My nose twitched at the smell of unfamiliar cigarette smoke.

Lala smoked menthols and the smell made me acutely aware of where I was and shouldn't be.

"So where you been?"

"Who's askin'?"

"You ain't been around for a couple days. Marco was thinkin' you were dead in an alley somewhere."

I sat up to pull the band off my arm. "That will never happen." I told her. "My sister won't let it."

"Sister, huh? She your keeper?"

"She tries to be. Her boyfriend, too."

"These came from him, yeah?" She poked at the scratches on my sides. They weren't long, or deep, but they had come from Brian, not even two hours ago. I shrugged into my tshirt and used the couch to push myself to my feet.

While I waited for my head to level out, Lala reached for the waistband of my pants. I backed away, tripping over her brother's gym bag and crashing into the wall.

"You're jumpy."

"I'm..." Shit. I had no good reason for turning her down. I didn't turn *anyone* down. "Occupied."

"Boy, you got it bad." She commented. I didn't even want to wonder what she meant.

"Look, it's been fun, whatever this is, but I gotta bounce."

I scrambled for the door and let her laugh follow me out.

The high was great, but not worth dipping into crazy more than once. I at least knew when to bow out gracefully.

I wandered the streets of the ghetto, trying to find my way out. Being high on heroin certainly didn't do me any favors. I no longer had a phone, thanks to Monica. It was after midnight and I had nowhere to go.

Eventually, I found my way out. I had a little bit of money, but going back to Huntington wasn't an option. I settled for Waffle House instead.

I sat at the counter and ordered coffee. Regardless of who I called, they would want me as sober as possible. As I mentally went through the list, I couldn't think of a single person who would be happy to see me.

My session with Brian lasted hours, neither one of us wanting to be the first to tap out. Whatever release he had been looking for, he was struggling to find it, and kept wanting me to push him further over the edge.

Getting off and getting a release were completely different things. For my sister's sake, I hope he showered before going down to her.

God, Laurel put up with so much crap from me. She felt continuous guilt for always letting me down. I could never explain to her that her hopes were always too high with wishful thinking.

Sobriety wasn't in my cards. It never had been. Whoring myself out didn't have to be, but the money was too good to pass up. I only settled for stripping because it was as close as I could get without Ian bitching.

I shook my head and dumped the second half of the coffee down my throat, scalding my esophagus as it made its way down. I coughed and gestured for a refill, failing at getting my brain to shut down before going down that path.

Ian loved me, more than I ever thought anyone would. Even now, he wanted to be with me, and I ran from him. I didn't protect him, and he still didn't blame me. After showing up at the hospital blitzed, I couldn't face him again. Seeing the hurt on his face would be too much for me.

"You gonna order?" The fifty something waitress behind the counter asked me. I barely lifted my eyes to meet her face.

"Just some scrambled eggs and toast, please."

She nodded and stepped away to take the bill of the only other customer in the diner. I dug into my pocket for the five dollars I owed and set it on the counter.

There was a payphone by the bathrooms, but I couldn't call Brian to come get me. He'd bailed me out enough times as it was, probably more than what Laurel knew about. Matt was out of the question because he would just call Brian.

With a slightly clearer head, I realized the only person I could call who wouldn't care what state I was in, was Marco. In a weird turn of events, I ended up paying for more than what I got the last time I bought from him. He owed me, for a change.

I put the coins in the slot and dialed. The phone rang once before he picked up and, good news, he had a boy close by who could help me out. He would be there by the time I finished my food.

I stepped out ten minutes later and huddled against the steady drizzle that had started. I was still flying on the heroin, but I wanted to have a stash on hand for when I finally came down. Around the corner of the restaurant, another one of Marco's cousins was hanging against the wall, smoking.

"Hey man." I greeted. He nodded and stepped up to me. I clasped his hand for a bro hug, the bag easily exchanging hands.

"He told me to tell you to stay away from Lala."

"Tell him don't worry about it. I'm not going back."

He nodded, not caring one way or the other. "Take care of yourself, man. You look like hell. Get off the streets."

"Yeah. See ya." I walked away, hands in my pockets, trying to figure out where to go next.

A motel was probably my safest bet. I had cash for a couple nights, and could work for the rest.

Disappearing seemed like the best idea. Jail certainly wasn't an option, and neither was being a burden.

I saw the end of the road clearly, with only one way out. I was ready.

Half an hour later, I had fresh powder up my nose and something going on the TV. I was stretched out on top of the blankets on the bed, my eyes closed, my head floating, wondering how long it would take for someone to find me, and whether or not it would be me, or just my body.

I couldn't be inclined to care either way.