Surviving

seven

"Somebody save me from the world you left"

It's been a few weeks since Amber died, and my ways of coping are getting worse. I think I've managed to drink a full bottle of vodka every single night to myself. I don't care if I drink myself to death, which would be a bonus to be honest. I've even picked up the habit of hurting myself to cope. The first time was when I was trying to clean the dishes after dinner one night but the water caused the glass to slip out my hands, shattering to the floor. I burst into tears and fell to the ground, desperately trying to clean it up before Big Ash would come down and wonder what happened. Next thing I know, my arm is completely covered in cuts. It was almost as if I was in a trance. Big Ash found me unconscious and cleaned me up before putting me to bed.

He's basically been my rock throughout Amber's passing. I know he's hurting as well, but he just buries himself into his work, whereas I bury myself into alcohol. It's basically my best friend now that I don't have mom or Amber. Before, I was saving up my wages to eventually buy my own place or for college in the future, but now it gets spent on alcohol.

Some of Big Ash's guys have been coming in and out the house lately, I'm guessing to see if he's alright. He doesn't talk to me about Amber, it's strictly business talk. He told me that I can have a break for a couple weeks from the streets, but only if I help the guys with dealings. At first I was a little scared about it, but then figured that if I was good enough at it, they'd maybe let me try some. Their specialty is in cocaine and heroin dealings, they say they don't waste time with 'pussy drugs' as they call it, such as weed and things like that.

For a couple days, I'd shadow the guys as they met with clients just to get an inside into how they do their dealings. It seems to be a lot more chill of an environment compared to the streets. I mean yeah, occasionally you get the junkie in withdrawal who wants their fix asap, but once they've injected themselves or done a few lines, they're pretty good company.

Tonight is my first official night as the lead drug dealer. Big Ash thinks I'm ready, and the guys will be there with me in case someone tries something. I met with my first client, who seemed to be a bit shocked to see a kid at their door with their goods, but they didn't question it. The second client was a little scary if I'm honest; a huge guy with about five kids - all screaming from their bedrooms - but I didn't make it known that I was secretly shitting myself. He gave me my money, I gave him his fix and we left it at that.

After a couple more deliveries, the guys and I headed back to the house to report it to Big Ash. As a well done for my work, one of the guys handed me a small bag of cocaine. At first I didn't really know what to do other than stare at it, but after being handed a beer from Big Ash, we all settled in the living room and started laying out a couple lines each.

I've never felt euphoria like it. Sitting in the exact spot where I was cuddled into Big Ash a few weeks ago, I was now having the time of my life. I felt like all of my worries had disappeared and all I could feel was the high. I didn't even care about the burning sensation in my nose; instead I had another line and chugged down my beer.

Waking up in the morning was a different story. I was naked from the waist down and had a killer headache. Recognising the familiar sensation between my legs, I already know that I slept with someone. Who they were, I don't know. All I know is I won't be sleeping with them again unless I want to be paralyzed. Jesus fucking Christ it hurts. After managing to roll out of bed and get two aspirin out of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom before heading into the kitchen.

"Morning" I mumble to Big Ash, who's sitting reading some magazine with a naked chick on the cover.

"Since you seem to be able to fuck one of my guy's last night, you're going back onto the streets tonight" he replies while I pour myself vodka with orange juice.

"What? I thought I was dealing now?" I ask before bringing the cup to my lips, allowing the alcohol to soothe my throat. It's basically three quarters vodka and one quarter orange juice, just how I like it.

"Yeah you were" Big Ash replies while turning to face me, "because I thought you weren't ready to go back to the streets. But after hearing you last night, I made up my mind and you're going back out there. No buts"

I slam my cup down onto the worktop as Big Ash does back to reading his magazine. I don't want to go back to the streets. I'm sick of having to pretend to enjoy sex with some sleazy guy that's not satisfied with his wife, or who's too repulsive to get sex from anywhere else so he resorts to paying for a prostitute. Besides, I made more money last night with dealing than I did with my clients over the space of a week.

I stomp my way up to my room before collapsing onto the bed. I can feel myself getting angrier, needing to get it out my system. I push myself up off the bed and head for the shower, quickly turning the water on before searching through the cupboards for my razor.

After successfully breaking it apart, I strip down and step into the shower, letting the boiling hot water beat against my skin. Ten minutes later and my thighs are now covered while a sick grin makes its way across my face. I allow myself to enjoy the stinging from the running water before shutting it off and getting out.

It's already late afternoon and I'll have to be out in a few hours to get some clients. Rummaging through my clothes, I spot my favorite denim skirt on the floor; the same one I wore last night. I quickly slip it on, not bothering with underwear because that only wastes time later. I feel a bulge in the skirt pocket and discover the small bag of cocaine from last night. I thought we used it all but apparently not.

The happiness that fills my body at the sight of the stuff causes me to knock over everything on my make-up table, allowing me to pour it out and make up a few lines. Once that's done, I open up my saving's box and take out a twenty dollar bill before rolling it up.

Feeling the substance hit my system, I feel relief. I no longer feel angry or want to cut more, instead I feel free. It almost feels like I'm flying. Maybe I could just buy some more of this stuff and take it before meeting up with clients. It'll be the only thing that gets me through it.

After finishing the last line, I grab my stuff and head out to my usual spot to find my usual client waiting for me, a smug look on his face.