The basketball diaries - Leonardo DiCaprio fanfic

35

Jim's breath is heavy on my face. I can't believe why he hasn't got off me yet. My whole body is aching from the heavy weight. 

"Give me my bag back." Jim sputters as he gets up on his feet, leaving me on the ground. 

"No."

"Laura. I don't want to fucking hit you, alright? So give it back!" he roars. 

I get up on my shaky legs and force my uncertain gaze to meet his blazing one. I'm scared to death but I still dare to challenge him.

"You're making Aaliyah sad. She worries about you-" I begin but he quickly interrupts me:

"First of all. Shut the fuck up. I've known her since I was like fucking five. She's fine and certainly doesn't need your angel ass looking after her."

"Why are you so rude to me?" my voice comes out weaker than intended. "Why do you hate me so much?" I'm on the edge of sobbing and I bet he can see the tears building up in my eyes because his features softens. 

"I don't hate you..." he says which makes me doubtfully raise my brows so he continues speaking:

"It's just- I don't know. You're so fucking annoying all the time. Always getting in other peoples business."

"I do it because I care."

"Yeah, I know, I know. But, just please give me the bag."

"No." I spit out. "Why should you have it and not me? Maybe I want to get high too?"

Jim just shakes his head. Then he snatches the bag from me so quickly that I'm not even able to react before it's out of my hands. "Don't even say that Laura." is the only thing he says before walking away across the street.

I inhale deep breaths through my scrunched up nose. Why does he always doubt me?! He acts as if I can't do whatever I want! With stomping steps I get to the subway and take the A-train to Inwood. 

My body is still heated as I step through the front door to my apartment. I barely get to breath out before my dad's figure pops up in front of me. His shirt is greasy and the beard is uneven. He looks like a mess.

"Where are the China plates from Aunt Josie?" dad sputters.

I raise my brows in confusion. "What? I-I don't know. I haven't touched them."

"They were in the kitchen the other day! Don't bullshit me! You've destroyed them, haven't you?!" his voice is booming through the whole apartment and I find myself shrinking in fear.

"I swear, I haven't seen them. Maybe they're-"

I don't even get to finish my sentence before dad's palm comes flying in the air; striking me right across the cheek. I gasp but the pain doesn't come until the second slap hits me. 

"Dad, stop!" I yelp, moving back in the hallway until my back hits the door. 

He comes straight after me, this time grabbing my hair and pulling me into him. "You don't lie to me!" he growls and pounds my head into the wall. "Never." another pound. "Never again." 

My body is completely numb as dad finally lets go of me. My head rolls back and I find myself slowly gliding down to the floor, tears slowly pouring from my eyes. I'm not even crying, not making a sound as a matter of fact; but the tears are still there. 

I have to get out of here. I can't stay here. 

My legs are shaking so much they're close to collapsing as I make my way out on the street. My head is completely empty; all my self respect is gone. I'm not worth shit. Nobody likes me so why am I even here?

I don't stop walking until I reach the house on the corner of Isham Street and Sherman Ave. I've heard several times about the basement in there where apparently all sort of characters hang out; junkies for the most part.

In normal cases I would be scared to death walking into what I am now seeing. It's a big room; probably some old storage room that someone gave up their hopes on. I can barely believe my eyes as I stare between the different people spread out in the basement; some are so zoned out I'm not even sure they're alive; I bet they all aren't.

"Can I have some of that?" I ask a man whose leaning down over a table with a bunch of different powders and substances. Even my voice sounds numb.

"Sure thing, babygirl. I would have you pay but I'll be kind this time for you." the man giggles, eyeing me up and down with a perverted smile. 

In a matter of seconds the man has helped me snort cocaine and he even offers me a bag to take home; an offer I can't say no to. 

It doesn't take long until I'm in a fantasy world. Everything is so euphoric...

In this very, very, realistic dream the last thing I suspect to find is Jim entering the front door. Oh, I should have suspected him to come here; he seems to walk all over New York City during the nights. 

There is no doubt in my body as I walk up to this- this New York Hot-Shot. Fucking New York blah-blah, he thinks he's so cool with his stupid accent.

"Hey, wazzap' Jimmie-boy!" I cheer, definitely taking him by surprise because he flinches over-dramatically. With his big pupils I suspect he's just as high as I am.

"Why is mah' faw-rite New Yawker standing hewr in this caw-nah? You wana' have some waw-ter?" Okay, maybe I don't pull off the best New York accent but at least he looks amused by my presence.

"Nah, but I do want you..." he whispers, leaning into me so our faces almost crash into each other. 

I don't waist a second; I lean forward and press my lips hard against his soft mouth. He responds quickly and kisses me back twice as hard. I don't care over the fact that everyone in this room can see us; I let him press up against me, I let his hands run over my shivering skin.

"Laura, I don't hate you. Don't even think that." Jim says against my mouth. 

"I don't care Jim." I moan. I'm speaking pure truth. At the moment I don't care about Nancy or the obvious fact that I'm am just one out of a dozen of other girls Jim make out with today. 

"Tell me you want me then." he breathes, putting his large hands on my ass and pressing me up against his hard crotch.

"I do Jim." 

Don't fuh-get to vote and caw-ment and there'll be chaw-klet in ya' bed when ya' wake up