Tonight is the night we die

Chapter Twenty-Eight . PART 1

JAKE'S POV - SEVEN YEARS AGO

" Man, you are the best ! I don't know where you find your stuff but that's fucking good ! " The man with the blond dreadlocks mumbled, already high as a cloud. I wondered how he was even able to walk but I guessed it was just the routine for him now. Making the conversation was not my goal, I gave them what they wanted, I took the money and it's done, no need to become the best pal. I snatched the money out of his hand, we nodded like to close off our deal and we went back to our lives.

Selling drugs was not my main thing. It was just an easy job to do at the end of the day when I started to get hungry and I needed some cash to eat something. Thanks to the dark web you found new types of drugs, things that people have never seen so once you were out in the street with those, you quickly become popular. And the money was good. I was not proud but it was the least guilt-trippy job I was doing.

Being on the run was fun at first. It was full of discoveries and freedom. I had never felt that way before and it was good. It gave an exciting tone to the seriousness of the situation I was truly in. However, time passed and money started to miss and loneliness and depression started to settle. Looking in a mirror was terrifying. It was not the man I previously was. I barely recognized myself. Like an out-of-body experience. A man was there, his hands we moving if I moved mine, it was my words coming out of his mouth, but still, it wasn't me. It was not even a man, it was a kid. I looked horrible, tired, high, hungry, and sad. I was barely 19 and my life felt like it was already over. I wasted it with one bad decision, two years ago.

My home was the shittiest motel possible. If you drove in front of it, your first thought would be that it had been closed and abandoned years ago. The door of the room was not closing properly, a chair kept it safe from opening. The only window was thin and closing just as good as the door. You could hear the wind whistling through the tiny gap. It bothered me at first before becoming such a part of me that it was helping me fall asleep. The bed smelled horrendous. The whole place was smelling like urine, cold tobacco, and alcohol. The only pleasant smell you could come across was the one coming from the prostitutes who would visit at night. Although mixed with the other smell, it didn't stay pleasant for long. The internet was great though, the only thing working well and fast, and honestly, I never got a better connection than at this place. I may have helped with that.

After the last deal of the night, I ended up in a fast-food, like always. I was missing the homemade food. My mother's mac'n'cheese, fish pie, or creamy chicken stew were a part of my wildest dreams every night. I was living a kid's fantasy at first with eating junk food anytime I wanted to. The fantasy did not last long. And all I wanted was to feel that warmth and love that my mother put into every dish she ever made for me. A cold burrito with probably out-of-date meat was definitely not giving me that feeling. But it was nourishing me physically if not mentally.

The fast foods I went to were always busy with groups of young people, around my age, sometimes younger. I would be in a corner with my shady burrito, observing them with envy. I had never been an extrovert, I didn't have many friends, and I enjoyed my own company. My own company was not making me sick to my stomach. I couldn't stand myself anymore. Watching them was entertaining me just as much as it was making me sad. I listened to their conversation because they were usually speaking very loudly, it was hard to miss. I would take part in the conversation in my head. Belonging to a group, going out, having fun, not fearing for my own life... It was something I wanted to have a taste of. I felt like I could get everything I wanted, the most precious diamond, the fastest car, the biggest house, but a group where I could belong was, to me, unreachable.

I guess that's why I didn't think twice when I saw that post online. I was so desperate to feel part of something that I threw myself into the first mess I could just because of that possibility, the possibility to be part of something amongst others.