Addicted | ✔

C h a p t e r F o u r t e e n

                                                            ❝Every atom of me, missed him.❞

We're sitting on the roof of the Old Cigar Bar, downtown. Jack brought a blunt and a pack of cigarettes. We laid a blanket out across the dirty roof, where we laid for hours and kissed. And talked, now even the streetlights were dimming.  Everything was closed down for the night. I was watching the headlights of cars on the street.

"You ever wonder where there going?" I asked, turning to Jack. Who was busy cutting himself lines with my debit card. He shook his head.

"Everyone's going somewhere, nobody drives just to drive." He stated bluntly. Jack was the least introspective person I'd ever met. He said things as they were, he wondered about nothing he thought about nothing. For Jack there were no possibilities, no hopes, only cold hard facts. I knew in my head, the gig would be up in a while. Jack would find another girl, fucking me would get old. This wasn't a cliche where some girl can change the drug dealers cold heart. Because in real life, trying to do that will get you killed. But I can enjoy it while it lasts. My life wasn't euphoria, and Jack wasn't Fezco. 

"You don't like to think much do you?" I asked Jack, as he snorted a line. He shook his head. grimacing a bit.

"No, why bother. I only think about money and pussy." 

I laughed. Because of all the things Jack wasn't, at least he was honest. But some part of me knew that wasn't true. He'd sat in the hospital holding my hand. I doubted he'd do that for any other girl. Or maybe he just didn't want my death to be at the hands of his drugs. I let the silence fall as Jack handed me the cut up straw and I smiled.

"If that's so true, why'd you sit in the hospital with me for a whole day in a plastic chair?" I asked, meeting his gaze. He narrowed his eyes.

"Maybe its because I care a little bit, and if you died. I'd be the one telling your family, and Summer." He said. 

The only words that resinated with me were Maybe its because I care a little bit. I  felt my cheeks get flushed. As if he really meant it. 

"You feel bad about shit you did in the past?" I asked, laying down to face the sky. He laughed. 

"You think I've made it out here in this fucked up world without making a mistake?" He asked pulling me up by my arms to face him. I shrugged.

"You know everything about my past, I've lived with you for months. I don't know anything about you," I said, staring up at him. He sighed. Now, rule one of being a drug dealer, or buying drugs. Or being a drug dealers girlfriend, was do not ask about their past. I'm not dumb, or naive. But I was curious, who did he used to be? Where were his parents? What has he seen?

"Why'd you start doing drugs?" He sounded like he was genuinely wanting an answer. I'd done a lot of lying when it came to this topic. Now I suppose I could be honest.

"To forget shit." 

He nodded.

"My dad, he hit us. Me and my brother. He'd come home drunk. I watched him rape my mother, I watched him smash a beer bottle over her head. I watched him kill her Kaitlyn..." He stopped, and turned away from me before continuing.

"He threw her body in a dumpster. That's when I lost it. That night, I got my hands on his gun. I shot him, point blank range. I watched the brains explode out of his head. If my mom didn't get to live anymore. Why should he." He finished. He wore an unreadable expression. And to think, I thought my upbringing was bad. I grew up wealthy, white picket fence wealthy. With a sister, and two loving parents. I was the one who put myself in the bad situations. Jack was just a kid. A kid who'd seen some shit. 

"That's why you started drugs." I stated flatly. I wasn't sure why I asked for this story. I was actually feeling pretty good. For the first time in a while.

"It's hard to live with Katie, killing someone. Nor matter how fucked up of a person they were. I spent years in juvie. From ten years old too seventeen. When I met you, I'd just gotten out. You make friends in juvie. They got me into the game." He said shrugging. Men were so much different than women. In the sense that he was pretending it wasn't a big deal. He got up everyday, pretending he didn't murder his own father.

"I promised myself, if I ever had kids. I would never hurt them, I would never hurt their mother. I wouldn't become my dad." 

"You won't become your dad." I said, more confidence in my voice than I actually felt. The only thing about abuse I knew, was from Elena's parents. But I wish I could forget it. Every atom of me wishes I could forget it. 

He shrugged, and lit a cigarette. He moved slightly away from me, indicating the space he probably wanted. I went back to watching the cars headlights. It was a decent past time. Now I knew why that rule existed, don't ask dealers about their past. Because there's normally nothing good about it.