The girl next door, - ᴛ.ᴋᴀᴜʟɪᴛᴢ

chapter twenty-eight.

ONE WEEK

»-☠︎︎-+>

It was the long weekend, finally.

And I was spending it here, missing Tom just a little too much. It was somewhere past midnight, and I was trying incredibly hard not to go to my dealer.

I let out a small sigh, my knees to my chest as I looked out my window again and to the snow on the roof. I wanted to go and apologise, tell him I never meant to just.. overdose. But we always fuck after arguements. Maybe it's just our way to relieve tension.

But I think he needs space. Maybe I do too.

I always did get uncomfortable when I was stuck with one person for a long time.

My eyes flickered to my doorframe as I stood, going downstairs and out to the porch to think. Once I had sat down, I just remained there quietly with my head against the wooden pillar.

I don't think using is why people were mad. It was how it was going to go afterwards. That you'll always have that craving where you'd be up one night out of your fucking mind and calling someone for help. And fuck, they don't know what to do? You're hysterical, sobbing and practically choking on your words.

You'll always be an addict. Just the feeling of how the pure euphoria lingers in your mind, how you didn't care about jack shit until you stopped. I guess it's the fact you feel peak and then miserable afterwards. The high goes, and it feels like you cant live without it.

That's why its an addiction. Thats why its called, an addiction. Because it's something you will always come back for. Like a bad relationship.

"Mario," I spoke as he stepped off the porch with a girl, pausing mid-step and looking back and me. "You should be in bed."

"When is your next pick-up?" I murmured, resting my cheek on my palm.

"What? I'm not telling a drug addict where I go to pick up drugs?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, man.. please. I'm craving." I breathed, itching at my neck and sitting up as he looked me up and down with a flicker of worry. "I need it. I'll pay you." I murmured.

He pursed his lips, exhaling and looking down. "182. Don't talk. Just get the shit and go." He mumbled, stepping back and guiding the girl, who was Seb's girlfriend, into his truck where they proceeded to make out before speeding off.

I watched quietly as the car drove away, before I slowly got up and headed inside.

»-☠︎︎-+>

After dressing, I adjusted my skirt while I went down the stairs, approaching the kitchen to set up a kit for when I came home. I jolted, feeling a hand on my lower back.

"What was all that fucking yapping about?" My father looked down at me, taking in the short skirt and peering down my top. I stepped away, shrugging my shoulders. "Nothing, dad." I mumbled.

"And where are you going looking like that? Like a little hooker." He muttered. I zipped up my jacket, looking away from his gaze. "Just somewhere."

"Just somewhere." He mocked under his breath, nudging me to the side and heading to the fridge.

"Asshole," I said quietly, walking out of the door, and then down the street.

»-☠︎︎-+>

I walked down the street, my arms crossed over my chest and the sound of hiphop music blasting from the curb. Boys breakdancing, or smoking a joint with girls on their arm.

"Hey baby!" One of the boys whistled. "You wanna sit on my face, sweetie?" He called out, his friends snickering and hitting eachother.

I scoffed, turning a corner and approaching the house. I walked up on the porch, knocking on the window like Mario had instructed a few minutes ago on text.

A few sounds came from inside before a man opened the door roughly and pushed a shotgun into my face.

"Oh?" He hummed. My eyes were wide, but they quickly returned to half-lidded. "Who's this then?" He put the gun down, tilting his head with a smirk.

"I'm here for Mario's drop." I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palm as I shifted nervously.

"Mario, yeah? How old are you, kid?"

"Old enough." I muttered.

"He send you to start shit?" The man stepped forward, pushing me and sending me into the sharp corner of the wood.

I grunted, looking up at him with my eyebrows furrowed before a few men walked out near him. "Is this some sort of fucking tease? He owes us!" He growled, grabbing my face.

Mario, you stupid fuck.

"Give me the money." The man whispered. "Or I'll kick your fucking head in."

»-☠︎︎-+>

"No, but did she actually send it out or was it just some guy?" Bill looked at me. I sighed, closing my phone and nodding a little before taking a drag of my cigarette and adjusting my bag while we walked.

We walked past an alley, where someone was getting kicked and jumped. Bill and I kept walking, our gaze straight ahead. "Don't look." I exhaled, the smoke curling around my face and my eyes slightly squinted.

Of course, we were used to this. It's been the same ever since we were children. Nothing has changed. Violence was always surrounding us, it was suffocating.

No one wanted us here either. They think we are a joke, that our career is a joke--

--But I'm usually the one fucking their siblings or their girlfriends. And well, Bill is the same sometimes. Infact, he's almost as handsome as me when he doesn't have makeup on. He looks less gay. Either way,
I love him. He can be as gay as he wants, and I'll love him.

Bill has had to keep his sexuallity a secret, mostly all of his life, even if we all knew from a young age. We couldn't deny the fear of shame and hatred we would get if he admitted it or dated a guy. Even if Bill gets harassed daily about the "Are you gay?" Question.

I just want him to be happy. I love him, why wouldn't I?

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and took another drag of my cigarette before putting it out and walking into school.