Fallacious

The Beginning to the End

Blood orange peels dropped into the water, consuming it whole.
Skin exposed, what luscious flavor red possesses.
Sugar water to a bee, flies join the orange, digging into its meal.
Days rise, nights fall, the skin decays,
"Why am I wasted? Don't let me die in vain!" Orange screams.
Wrinkled skin, a fluffy new bacterial surface forms on its skin, consuming the object whole.
What a fatal end to the zesty fruit.
.
.
.
Fin.

A cloud of fogginess and euphoria consumes its victim like a sponge. Opioids flood the man's senses as the emotions and senses are dulled. The brown liquid of what seemed like a pot of gold to the man traveled throughout his veins. Once again feeding to the health dissuading addiction of sticking himself. The drug addict dropped onto the couch that resides in his apartment; the syringe that was buried underneath his skin seconds ago accompanied the heated spoon on the floor. The man tilted his head back, eyes glazed over, he spaced out from what was the reality to him. Embracing the pleasure that was offered to him from the drug.

Seth Villain, nineteen, fresh out of high school and a college applicant, a son of two loving parents and a best friend. How did his life go so wrong at the will of a needle? Seth never knew and never cared, he was just addicted to what the opioid had offered. Life itself was worthless to the heroin addict, he could barely get through a week without harmful thoughts that disrupted his everyday life. Bullied at school for attempted suicide. Shamed by family constantly for not living up to expectations. Constantly worrying his best friend. These are the problems that haunt him throughout his daily life as he makes an attempt to be a civilized normal person in society. Therapists, mutual support, he tried the first-hand methods. They were all faulty.

That's how he was first introduced to the drug. His doctor prescribed him an opioid for his mental health problems, claiming that it should reduce his anxiety and depression to a minimum as he gradually takes the prescribed dosage over time. It worked, and then it failed. Then it dug a rabbit hole for him, one too deep for him to climb out of. Seth couldn't comprehend, but his parents never knew about his sickness. It was a miracle to him, considering how invasive they are. He managed to keep it well concealed and even got to move into an apartment. What was a dream for him was hell for his best friend, Esther.    

Esther Goodwill, twenty-one, and Seth's childhood friend since he was ten years old. They both lived in the same neighborhood together and hung out when they could ever since when the two were children, the duo has stuck like glue ever since. Both of them would lean on each other for support in a time of need. The only time that the two were broken apart was when Esther had to leave for college when Seth was a sophomore in high school. Esther at the time was considered a prodigy and excelled in school, he continued to skip grades due to his advanced status when compared to his peers. Graduating and then going to college majoring in early childhood education. Gradually throughout the years he picked up new skills and mannerisms thus, explaining some of his actions now.

For Seth, he assumes that Esther knows about his addiction to heroin. From his actions to words, it never fails. Three times a day Esther never fails to call Seth before mealtime. Checking up on him and then eventually talking to him, he'll inform Seth that he'll visit sometime during that week before hanging up and starting a lesson plan for his class.

The drug effects started to wear off, the euphoric state and fogginess slowly weakening as Seth clicked back to reality. Introduced to his personal hell once again. The nineteen-year-old boy groaned, staring blankly into the off-white popcorn ceiling above him as his mind shifted through ways to tell Esther about his drug addiction. Seconds converted to one minute. One minute converted to two, two turned into three, and three cartwheeled into four. Four minutes and thirty-one seconds ongoing has passed since Seth stared at the ceiling.

His phone rang. The daily reminder from his friend to take his prescribed medicine and to make himself dinner. Once, twice, three times, Seth's good friend persistently called. Not stopping until Esther's person of interest picked up. Another groan reverberated out of the man, this time one of displeasure. Having to entertain the daily chore of talking to Esther. Seth stood up, shaking his head at the phantoms of his previous action before heading to his room, stepping over the needle and spoon in the process. Seth entered and approached the dresser next to his bed. One step, two, three, four, five- it took approximately six steps to reach his dresser. Six steps long and six steps short. Seth picked up his rectangular communication device. Answering the call, he was greeted with worried shouting from the other side.

"Seth- for, you know what forget it! What were you doing?!" The redhead sighed, displeased with his friend yelling at him over the phone.

A deep velvet voice replied, and the whole sentence spoke in a monotone voice. "Staring at a wall," muffled sounds of wind were given as a response. Accompanying the previous action, frustrated muffled words were spoken by his friend. A large void of panic quickly settled in Seth's chest

The needle, vial, and spoon are still out.

A calm voice emitted from the red-heads phone. "I'm at your door, let me in please," the panic instilled into Seth's chest took control of his body. Immediately Seth hung up the phone with Esther on the line and hurriedly ran into his living room. Picking up the remains of his illegal hobby and running back to his room, hiding the sinful task in the bottom dresser drawer. Seth shook his head and rubbed his face, removing the evidence that could show his evidence. He stumbled into his bathroom, which was interconnected with his room, grabbed a bandaid from the counter, unwrapping, and placing it at the location of his minor injury. Slamming the bathroom door shut. He scrambled to get to the front door to greet his friend. Opening the door fast enough to surely give his friend whiplash.

No one was there to greet him.

"Huh?" The boy was confused. His friend wasn't present at the main entrance to his house. Seth paled, "If it isn't the front door, then did he go to the balcony?" He whispered to himself.

He closed the door before walking to the back of his apartment. Opening the closed curtains to reveal his friend with a mop of golden hair and a charming smile. He stood on the balcony with disfigured clothes, and messy disheveled hair and greeted Seth with a smile on his face. The redhead gave the man a displeased look, opening the door for his guest to come inside his residence. "You're on my balcony?" the confused friend queried.
Esther spoke, ignoring the question thrown at him.

"And you look tired, you've been sleeping right?" The blonde-haired man closed the balcony door behind him before turning to give his friend a hug. Seth hesitated, debating if he should tell the truth or a white lie. He went with the truth, knowing his best friend would've figured it out sooner than later.

"No, I haven't, to be honest, I couldn't sleep last night either," the redhead shrugged, not guilty of the truth. Esther replied with a tight squeeze of his own. He released the hug and placed his hands on Seth's shoulders, giving Seth a tight-lipped smile as he spoke.

"You are just as horrible as the middle schoolers I teach, do you have any idea how detrimental it is to have proper sleep? I get a minimum of seven hours and a maximum of ten. You should be getting eight hours of sleep, regardless of what you have to do the next day," the smile faltered as Esther's face melted into one of confusion. Then, the teacher moved his arms as sniffed the air, once, twice, three times. Each breath is deep and heavy as Seth stares at his dog-like friend, confused by his actions. Thinking about what could possibly make him refer to a state, he froze.

Seth forgot to air the house while heating up the drug.

He stared at the wandering figure of Esther as anxiety consumed his being, not being able to act without suspicion arising. Esther snooped around his house like a bloodhound searching for a game. Esther froze, stopping his investigation at the couch, the blonde slowly turned around before looking at Esther with a distressed look. He looked like he was about to cry.

"We have to talk."