𝙈𝙍. 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙀𝙂𝙐𝙔

HARD TO TELL

We all stared at the blunt that was now unraveling in the middle of the table, weed daring to fall out of it.

"What the fuck did I tell you, Scott." I turned my head to look at him, my hands motioning towards it.

"Well fuck, I tried." he threw his hands up in defeat, shrugging as he got back up.

"We're just gonna waste it?" I asked Aristos.

He sighed, "Scott get over here and lick this blunt!" Ari yelled to him.

"Just grab new wraps! Y'all don't appreciate me enough!" I laughed at Scott's response, going to grab some.

I watched as Ruby absolutely slobbered on the blunt, "Seriously?" I squinted my eyes.

He put a hand up, "Hey, you wanted a good blunt." he raised his eyebrows.

Aristos sat the blunt on the table, swatting the old blunt away with the back of his hand.

We now sat staring at it, waiting for it to unravel like Scott's did. However it did not, Aristos had a special talent when it came to rolling.

The only times that Scott would roll is when Aristos was too tired, and most of the time they came out alright.

The McDonalds bag sitting right by the new blunt, we sat in silence as we stared.

"A-hah!" Ruby held the joint in between his two fingers, reaching into his pocket to grab his lighter.

Taking a hit of his creation before passing it to me, "I'm gonna see if Scott wants a hit." Aristos nodded in my direction, getting up to throw away his wrapper.

I skipped down the hallway, excited to show Scott, or maybe just excited from the dose of weed.

Never really thought I was addicted to marijuana till now.

"Scottttt!" I sung as I reached his door, a crack letting out the bright lights.

The smoke lingered down the hallway from my hand.

I lightly pushed open the door, Scott scrambled around his room, pulling something out of his arm.

I gasped at the sight, dropping the blunt on the wood floors.

"Fuck!" I quickly picked it back up, directing my attention towards Scott.

"Get out Ivory." his voice raised and my eyes lingered over his body, his inner elbow bruised. A dot in the middle of it, he crossed his arms to hide it from me.

My eyes met his, tears coming to the front of mine.

"Scott..." my voice cracked.

I had never seen Scott shoot up, I hadn't even thought that he might have been doing it. The season that I met him in kept him from even showing that type of skin, it had been a long sleeve and sweats type of season. Now that it was heating up, it was no secret to what those sleeves were hiding.

"Ivory." He walked towards me, his eyes filled with something that I couldn't even see, his emotions hidden behind his dilated pupils.

"Go." he pushed me out of his room, slamming the door shut in front of my face.

Tears flowed down my cheeks at the thought of Scott with the needle in his arm, had he felt the need to keep this from me? I pushed myself to walk towards Ari, putting out the blunt on an ashtray in front of him. Avoiding any eye contact.

"Ivy, what-" I cut him off when I banged on to Scott door, jiggling the door knob.

"Scott." I spoke behind the door, "Open the fucking door, Scott!" my voice raised in concern.

When he gave me no response I panicked, "Scott, let's talk." my voice cracked the more I continued.

I could hear Ari behind me, his presence being shown when a hand was planted on my shoulder. I turned around to meet his eyes.

"Why didn't he tell me?" I spoke, my voice filled with sadness.

"It's not something he's proud of." So Aristos knew he was in there shooting up? Right this second?

"Why are you not helping him? What if he fucking kills himself Aristos!" I shrugged his hand off of me.

I began to walk away from him, "He doesn't want help, Ivory!" I only ignored him.

Pushing myself into my room.

I threw myself onto my bed, the thought of Scott never getting out of my head.

I didn't know it was so serious, but it seemed like he did it a lot. At least twice a day.

His veins were absolutely ruined, I could trace them with my fingers from how much they were shown. The deep greenish purple bruise seeping through his beautiful pale skin.

I had no idea why he would do that to himself, what pleasure did he get from it?

How could anyone ever want to feel so dissociated and dead?

I had been spiked with Fentanyl once, it was my last party as a senior in high school. Everyone was so excited to graduate, I remember taking a shot from this guy. I hadn't remembered seeing him anywhere but I figured that since it was a school party he went there. We were already drunk out of our minds so I figured why not.

Next thing I remembered was waking up on in the back of an ambulance, my vision all over the place. I remember the feeling of being paralyzed, almost like I was falling asleep. The paramedics desperately trying to keep me awake, the adrenaline flowing through my body like a firework.

I had been so drugged out that I didn't even remember arriving at the hospital, just being on the bed. The fluorescent lights shining on me, I felt like I was in fucking heaven.

I remember thinking that that was it, I was going to die right there and nothing could stop the fate that awaited me.

It was a terrible experience, I had no idea how anyone could do that everyday.

I thought more on it, Scott had been completely drugged out like that every single day. He hadn't been sober for a single conversation, had he even really been there.

I had realized that half of the time that we would talk, he would always be in his own little world.

Had he even remembered all our late night talks before bed? The ones that made me feel extremely close to him, did he even feel the same?

1059 words