Own Me

Chapter Two

A.N. Hey guys! The second chapter is up and ready for you to devour. I've also cast Darby, who is played by Patrick Schwarzenegger, who is so smokey that my laptop is on fire as I write this. I hope you like this book so far, the way its going, etc. Don't forget to vote and comment. Xoxo, Clay.

♔ Chapter Two ♔

I remember at one point, maybe three or four months after Tom died, I was at some casual party in some ratty little apartment on a council estate. It was one of those close-knit, smoky parties where people lurked in corners kissing, half-naked, with decade old house music playing softly in the background.

I'd followed some guy into the main room and sat around a group of people, and watched as a kid whipped out a bag of ashy white powder. I could guess what it was well before he started sniffing it. Most of the night was fuzzy and lost, but I remember him turning to me, a good looking kid.

"Want a line?" he asked.

I accepted, and even now, I wasn't really sure why. It was probably because I was totally wasted when I arrived there. I'd been wasted for a while after Tom died, it was really the only thing that helped. All I remembered after that was taking the rolled up five pound note, and the disgusting feeling of it wheezing up my nose. I also remembered how I felt afterwards. Disgusting and useless, not good enough.

I couldn't help but shiver in remembrance of how it all started, and the chilly wind of the night wasn't much help either. It was cold, the clothes on my back were thin and ragged. I rubbed my hands together for warmth, breathing into them and watching my breath as it frosted upwards and danced away into the pitch black of the sky. The feeling itching away inside of me, gnawing at my mind, told me what I needed, but I couldn't. I'd been off of it for a few weeks now, so most of the sweats and heaves had stopped. I couldn't afford any bad habits like that, not anymore. And after being with Isaac yesterday, after being reminded of Tom, all I could think about was how much better I'd feel if I was wasted.

Craving something I knew was so bad for me, that was what made it feel so wrong. I'd been on a downward spiral ever since I sniffed my first line, and to be honest, I hadn't stopped spinning yet. I'd become a shell of my former self. Over the months of drug and alcohol abuse, most likely followed by shameful sex that I'd forgotten the next day, I'd become someone I couldn't recognise. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a ghost looking back at me. I looked horrible. Hollowed out, pale and pasty, thin to the bone. I was clearly not who I used to be.

Darby Darling - what a fucking name. That name was a laughing stock to me now, a constant reminder of what I used to be, and of what Tom Tafelski did to me.

The first thing I turned to was the bottle. Endless nights out, partying, booze, it just went on and on for a few days. And then days became weeks, and weeks became months, and suddenly, it was a year later, and I was still no better. I still hadn't moved on.

At some point over that time, my family lost contact with me. The money stopped rolling in, the credit cards ended up chopped, and I'd found myself alone. That was how I ended up here, standing on the edge of a danky street corner in the dodgy half of town with nothing to my name but the clothes hanging off my back. This was what I'd become. But it was okay, because life was good now. Life was better now, I'd tell myself. Most nights, the guys that would come along wouldn't be too bad looking, and they'd pay in full. Sure, some nights, they tended to get a little violent, but I'd tell myself I deserved it. I'd tell myself I'd earned it. Sometimes, I'd convince myself that I even liked it.