16
Emily
The birds start chirping at my window every morning around nine. Every fucking morning. I roll onto my side and pull the blanket over my head, hoping the incident with David and his girlfriend was a nightmare.
I can’t get back to sleep once I’m awake. My stomach growls, and I crawl out of bed. I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge to scan for something to eat. I pull out the milk and grab the box of cereal sitting on the counter. As the first grains of cereal fall into my bowl, I hear David talking on the phone.
“All I need is a few bumps, dude... No, I don't have the money right now. Can't you just front me? You know I'm good for it… Yeah, right, thanks for nothing!”
David walks into the kitchen, pacing as he fidgets. I watch helplessly as the man I love becomes manic. He brushes his hand through his hair and mumbles to himself. He doesn't notice me sitting here. I’m also a user, but in much smaller quantities and intervals. It's a temporary relief for my overworked mind. My addiction is fairly controlled, unlike David’s. He uses large amounts often. I can understand why he'd be running dry.
“David?”
He stops and looks toward me but doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Emily? How long have you been there?” He’s trembling and his voice is small and shaky. He sits across from me, wiggling his leg in a fit of nerves.
“I have a few oxys if—”
His head pops up, and he finally looks me in the eye. “Please,” he begs, cutting me off mid-sentence.
“Only if you do them with me. We rarely do it together anymore, and I miss it.”
He nods and follows me to my room. I pull two pills out of my drawer and crush them on my mirror. He fidgets in anticipation. It’s kind of pathetic how much he needs this hit. This is the first time I’ve seen such weakness in David, and in ways, it’s weaker than the moment I found him bloodied and broken on our front porch seven years ago.
I put the mirror between us and hand him the piece of a straw. He snorts four thick lines in quick succession before passing it to me. I take two and hand him the straw again. There are four lines left, and after demolishing two of them, he offers the remainder to me. I wave it off and he finishes them without hesitation.
* * *
David
God,I needed that. I hate that Em had to see me like this, so desperate for a hit. That's why I keep our use separate these days. She doesn't need it nearly as much as I do, and for that, she always seems a thousand times stronger than me. These drugs have total control over me, physically and mentally, though I’ll never admit that to her. Then again, she probably doesn't need me to. She knows me better than I know myself.
“I'm sorry, Em.”
I rest my back against the wall, and she crawls up beside me. I pull her into me and her body melts into mine. She watches the ceiling fan. I watch her.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“Just… everything. Last night, this morning. Everything.”
“Speaking of last night, we still need to talk about what happened.”
I run my fingers through her hair.
“Don't ruin the high. Let’s float for a while longer.”
We do.