The trouble with drugs is that no matter how much pain and misery they put you through, they become a part of you. And you will always want to go crawling back.
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p a p e r c u t s
My heart is pounding against my chest as I count the steps toward my house. Mark is going to kill me. He is. I should prepare myself for the beatings. I should run upstairs and put on a sweater and jeans, so his slaps won't sting so much.
Aaron's frown grows deeper the more he looks at my home. The living conditions aren't the best. The roof is falling apart and weeds took over the lawn. Paint is chipping off, rust over the exposed pipes- embarrassment flows through me. Why didn't I let him drop me off a block away? I remember his parents' two story dream-house and feel sorrier for myself. My entire home is the size of their living room. I wish I knew what was running through his mind. Maybe that I must be part of the poorest family in town.
Aaron wastes no time, ringing the doorbell as soon as it was in reach. No more than seven seconds went by before the door swings open.
His dark hair is messy and I smell the familiar scent of weed and cheap beer. Aaron is maybe an inch taller than Mark, but I don't have time to make any more comparisons. My breath gets knocked out of me as Mark reaches for me, probably to yell in my face but Aaron intervenes, stepping in front of me instinctively.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Aaron, the student she is tutoring."
"Well, Aaron, it's almost thirty past and I wanted her home at six." Mark interrogates.
He wasn't pleased with Mark. Not one bit. "Elizabeth is late 'cause of me, it's my fault."
"Why is it your fault?"
"I forgot to put gas in my car. We had to do a quick stop at the station."
"Since when does putting gas take thirty minutes?"
"Well that's what happened." Aaron responded sternly.
Mark stared at him for a long moment, deciding whether or not to believe him. "I'll let you slide this time. Get inside," Mark sneered. I sent a quick, apologetic glance at Aaron and walked in. I wanted to thank him in some possible way, but Mark's presence was too overwhelming.
From the dark living room, I watched them, peeping at Aaron through the doorway.
"That's your car?" Mark questioned.
"Yes." Aaron's wandering eyes met mine. I turned away and took off my backpack. He was suspicious.
"How does a high school student manage to have new Lexus?"
"Good credit. Why is that your business anyway.?"
Mark scowled at him.
Aaron grimaced, "Nígga, we done here? I don't have time for this. You don't intimidate me."
