You Can't Hurt Me

Fight Club

Having an itch that lived inside of you was like when you were younger and no matter how high you jumped you couldn't touch the ceiling. This time though, Race had a ladder to carry him up, his cigarettes.

He supposed Jack was right with the downsides of smoking. His whole body erupted with ants crawling back and forth inside of him until his lips kissed the cheap white paper.

Today had been one of Racer's harder days. He woke up late and couldn't bring himself to take a shower, so he felt musty and gross. His clothes had come from the bottom of his dirty bin hamper, them somehow having the least stench, so they were crumpled and unflattering.

But worst of all he's been carrying a back of rocks on his chest that he just can't drop, his mood had fallen and really the day was just dry and salty. So he opted to walk home letting the last bus leave so he could sit there and smoke for a bit, some relief.

It was nice, the air had a soft chill that almost comforted him, he was finally alone. Just him and the wind blowing away his smoke.

Race always liked nature, he liked the green leafs that always fell on the ground and turned brown and thin and crunched under his feet. He supposed that's why he always gravitated towards the bridge, it seemed separate from the otherwise gray and blocky New York. An escape from the world he could never leave.

He snuffed out the roach, tossing it in a trash can because he just went on an inner tirade about the environment and was not gonna ruin that by littering.

Despite smoking through an entire cigarette he almost wanted to smoke through another, it seemed after school was his only chance to smoke these days. Jack almost sniffed out the smell on one of his shirts so Race threw it in the washer. If it wasn't for the permanent cigarette must that covers the place he may not have gotten off so easily.

"Hey Oscar! It's the fairy," slurred a whiny voice, with a soft gravel.

Race turned confused, stuffing his cigarettes in his pockets, "what are you guys doing here?"

"We're just hanging out, didn't know you were a smoker?" Oscar laughed with a certain light to a joke that didn't exist. His limbs were limp and his eyes were droopy.

"Are... are you guys drunk?" Race spluttered.

"The freaking fairy wants to know if we're drunk?" Oscar giggled.

"Oh go to hell!" Race flipped them off and started to walk forward.

"Hey, hey, hey, you can't just leave." Morris, grabbed Race's arm and pulled him back violently.

Race easily pushed them off, and continued to briskly walk away, he's dealt with drunk people, he knows drunk people, his dads a drunk person, he's a drunk person. Yet their presence was making his skin crawl in an unfamiliar way and he would rather not know why.

Morris who seemed to be the stronger drunk, grabbed onto his shirt and shoved him back, he landed on the concrete hitting his head.

Oscar shifted to sit on top of him, Race swallowed, squeezing his face to avoid getting pummeled.

"No!" Oscar slurred, laughing violently, "don't close your pretty blue eyes. Such a pretty, feminine face."

Race's eyes widened, they were clearly drunk, but that was a bit shocking.

"Are you gay?" Race asked in disbelief.

Oscar slapped him, his face recoiling into the concret, scrapping his chin.

"You fairy would like that wouldn't you!" Oscar growled. "You're just some messed-up gay boy who's junkie mom smoked crack while pregnant because she was too freaking stupid not to."