Hauling the drawer on the right side of the counter open, I pillage through all the shit in there. More nothing. The drawer on the left side is one of those fake fucking ones that doesn’t open.
“What the FUCK!”
My eyes go to the corner of the counter near the wall. Closing my eyes, dragging a ragged breath into my over worked lungs, I say a silent prayer—or plead—that this fucking jewelry box in front of me is about to be the answer to all my problems.
Peeling my eyes open, I reach a shaky, clammy hand toward the box, pulling it open. My blood fucking boils and a choked sob bubbles up my throat when there is nothing in there except fucking rings and necklaces.
I can’t fucking do this. How do they have nothing of substance?
My hand flies out, grabbing the box before hurling it across the bathroom, where it shatters against the wall, falling into the tub.
“FUCK!”Hot tears spill from my eyes without my permission. Placing my hands on the counter, my head hangs down between my shoulders as I work on regulating my breathing. Somewhere in the far corner of my mind—the rational part—I know I’m being ridiculous. Kalen will be here in a few minutes and my problem will be solved.
But fuck me. This is just another fucking way my parents let me down when I needed them. They’re never fucking here for me. I’m rotting away, slowly shriveling up with each fucking hit I take, and they’re none the wiser.
“Crew?!” Kalen’s voice is loud and deep as it reaches my ears from the bathroom. Relief washes over me like a tidal wave.He’s here.
Eyeing myself in the mirror, I’m a fucking mess. Dark circles haunt under my bloodshot eyes, my nose is red and dripping with snot, and tear tracks litter my face. Turning the faucet on and filling my hands with cold water, I splash my face a few times.
That’ll have to do.
Running my hands down the front of my pants and turning on my heel, I make my way out of the room and down the stairs. Kalen’s waiting for me in the kitchen, like he always is.
His face lights up when he sees me, which only makes me want to throttle him more. This is not the time for niceties.
“Crew, how’s it going?”
“Why would you go on vacation and not fucking tell me?”
His brows pinch together a moment before he laughs. “Did you miss me, baby? I got here as soon as I could this morning. We didn’t get back until late last night.”
“I’ve been out—completely fucking out—for four days, Kal. You could’ve told me you were leaving, so I could’ve bought some more before you left.”
“Uh, I’m—”
“Save it. Do you have the shit?”
“I don’t have any percs, and I won’t until Sunday. I do have some other pills you can have to hold you over until then. It’s just two days, but these should work just as fine, if not better.”
“Man,” I grumble. “What are they?”
“Methadone.”
“Fine.” I’ve taken these a few times in the past, and the highisgood. Definitely comparable, if not better. I just function a bit better with the percs. “How many you have?”
“Fifteen. They’re stronger than the percs though, so you won’t need to take as much. When I get my next supply Sunday, I can hook you up.”
“Whatever. My wallet is in the other room. I’m gonna go get it, but can you set up a few lines?”
He nods his head, heading over to the counter to get started. “Bet.”
As I grab the wallet off the table, my phone chimes in my pocket. It’s Anderson.
Anderson: Hey, man. What’re you doing? Wanna come over tonight? Dad’s BBQing
Fuck. I’ve been avoiding him for days. I didn’t want him to see me like this. Thankfully, I was able to fake food poisoning, but the normal amount of time for that has passed and Idoreally want to see him. Glancing at the time, it’s still early enough in the day—barely even ten in the morning. If I snort these pills right now, my body should feel a little more alive to go see him later.
Me: Yup. When should I be there?