Changing Seasons

Thirty-Five

****

Over the next few days, Krist had gotten completely spun to the point he looked like his limbs were flailing. And he needed to fuck. Bad. As long as it was a female, that's all he wanted.

Michael had set him up with a girl he knew, Cassidy. "She's hella fine, bro," Michael had told him.

Krist had seen Michael's idea of hella fine and had low expectations. Upon meeting Cassidy, his opinions of Michael's concept of attractiveness were actually worse than he'd assumed.

She had a decent body, but her face was riddled with pick marks. Cassidy had several black teeth that were in the process of dying. Your typical bag bitch.

Krist didn't care. At least she wasn't a fucking dude. They spent a few days together, tweaking and fucking til the dope ran out.

The comedown was miserable, not so much physically as it was emotionally. Krist had rented a cheap motel by himself and spent that time sobbing in bed. He'd even contemplated suicide.

When he looked in the mirror, he hardly recognized himself anymore. Krist stared hard at his reflection. He saw a piece of shit, waste of air, cluck. His face was thin, his body pale. His grey-blue eyes were dark and haunted. How did recreational tweaking end up with him so strung out that he'd sold his body?

Krist was ashamed to see anyone he cared for, fearful of rejection and judgment, not that he didn't deserve it. He'd been a burden to his mother. He had lied and cheated on Nina. He'd been more concerned about meth and getting his dick wet than he had about being present for the birth of his stillborn son.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, his shoulders quaking as he wept. So many people would be better off if he fucking died. He wanted the pain to end.

****

Thinking back to that time period, it felt like observing the life of a stranger. He often what would have happened to him had Rocco not been born. Sure, he'd gotten clean a couple of times prior but it had never lasted. Would he have continued the cycle of sobriety, relapse, and toxic relationships? Most likely he would have, he had no reason to stay clean, especially given the fact he used to escape the shit he was doing while using. It was a vicious cycle of use, doing disgusting

things, comedown, feel filthy, vow to get clean, and then use because he struggled to cope.

There had been one period of time when he was with Heather, that he'd been clean. They'd been drinking and messing around in bed, she had tried to put her finger in his ass. Krist had told her he wasn't down like that, never to try it again. Heather thought it was funny, taunting him that her ex loved it, that nothing makes a man cum like something in the butt. Krist had seen red, he'd almost hit her.

"Try it again, I swear to God," he'd threatened.

"Oh my god, it's not even that big of a deal. You got some closet gay shit that I don't know about?" She cackled.

Krist had stormed out of the apartment and sat on the front steps, smoking a Newport. When he came back in, Heather was in the shower, her phone was left out to charge. Swiping up, he unlocked the phone and went through her messages.

"Omg, he flipped tf out bc I tried to touch his asshole." Heather had texted her girlfriends in a group chat.

The conversation proceeded to continue on how Krist was closeted, that they'd always suspected it and generally shit-talking him.

Enraged, he waited for Heather to exit the bathroom. He confronted her about the messages, she blew up. "You got no right going through my shit. I swear, you're worse than an insecure fucking girl the way you act," She shouted at him. Krist chucked the phone, hitting her in the thigh. Heather lunged at him and slapped his face. "See, I told you you're a fucking little bitch."