WIRES

FIVE

[ trigger warning: smoking, addiction, blood, gore, vomit, guns ]

2 MONTHS AGO

The gray stench, the acrid scent, the one that left a nasty sting in my throat. I yearned for the warmth of a cigarette between my teeth, being able to hold the smoke in my hands. My fingers felt restless without the paper wrapper they seemed to always now carry.

It had been at least eight hours since I last smoked. I never really counted time, which was how I could tell inhaling literal flames was making an impact on my life.

I was sitting on a wooden chair in the kitchen, staring at the Chinese food Pinkie picked up after work. Pinkie laid on the beige couch a few feet away from me, excitedly reading the words of some magazine. I directed my attention to the window next to me, fog was the only thing to be seen from our view. They covered the tall buildings that reached up to 1500 feet, they covered the entirety of this apartment window.

Life was different since I got married. It all happened so quickly, it was as if the whole pace of everything changed.

One day Pinkie and I were gazing into each other's eyes under the arbor, reciting promising words in front of many. Next, I sat with her at her family home, watching her smile grow as she hugged Marble. Then how Pinkie spun in circles screaming about how she got the job. The apartment we moved into together, our tipsy nights we spent in each other's arms.

'It feels as if this is all some fantastic dream I never want to wake up from,' is exactly what Pinkie has told me many times. And how I wished I could agree with her.

The truth is, I hadn't felt like myself in so long. Something about Marble never being dead shifted the reality of my world. Of course, Pinkie saw only the positives of it. She couldn't stop smiling for days on end. I never told her my perspective on the whole situation, I didn't want to fuck up her joy.

On one of the days, we stayed at Pinkie's family's house, I couldn't sleep. To sum up the experience, I soon found myself on the front porch, being offered a cigarette.

For some reason, the pain of smoking, the feeling of my throat burning, made my mind finally stop. I spent the night there, my hands shaking until there was no more feeling to them. I was afraid my heavy breathing and coughing would wake someone up.

So, why I kept returning that awful feeling? I had no clue. But it was now something I couldn't stop, something I knew that wasn't healthy for me at all.

I restlessly stared at my dinner. I really didn't want to eat this. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk," I plainly said to Pinkie.

She peeped her head up. "Okay!" she chirped. She had been lying on her elbows, stomach down, her feet happily dangling in the air. I wasn't sure how she found the magazine she had displayed in front of her so interesting, but there are some things you don't ask in life.

I stood up and slowly made my way to the counter to grab the keys, a lighter, a pocket knife, and my wallet. Before I was about to open the door to leave, Pinkie stood up from the couch.

"Dash?" her voice now seemingly dejected than before. "Are you going to the store again?"

I turned around and looked at her. "No-"

This caused her to snap. "Don't lie to me I saw you grab the lighter."

There were a pause, guilty feelings suffocating me. Pinkie knew something was up with me. Every day she'd look me in the eyes and ask if I was okay. She reminded me that she'd do anything for me, as long I was happy. And every day, I'd gaze back into her eyes, hold her hands, and promise I was fine.