Bad Habit

twenty

Moss was spinning out of control. Usually when he was at a party and someone offered him a pill of any sort, he'd quickly reject it and keep to his red solo cup filled with vodka. But for some reason, when Brayden stuck out his palm to reveal three, white pills, Moss was inclined to take all three. After being told they were LSD, or most likely were, Moss felt even more inclined. Having never taken an LSD tablet, Moss figured that it'd be no big deal, and if anything it'd help him forget about the shit storm he personally brewed between he and Finny. He would try anything he could to make him stop thinking about his pesky, dumbass best friend.

Without further thought, Moss uttered a quick, "fuck it," and took two out of the three pills into his grasp. He downed them immediately after taking them from Brayden and used the liquid in his beer can to help them go down smoother. After he swallowed, he looked at Brayden who had a rather freaked out look on his face. Moss urged him to explain what the look was for. "You. . . You probably shouldn't have taken two at once," Brayden whispered, biting his bottom lip fearfully. Moss felt his stomach clench and he began to wonder whether or not he should go to the bathroom and throw the pills up. Fuck, fuck, fuck! But he didn't want his exterior to show his extreme panic, so he stayed somewhat stoic.

"Jesus, shut up, Bray," Moss groaned, giving his friend a shove, "it's LSD for Christ's sake, I hardly think it matters how many I take at once." Brayden laughed nervously and nodded before slapping his hand on Moss' arm.

"Yeah, no, you're right," he agreed, just for the sake of agreeing. "It's fine, it's all good."

But after forty five minutes, it was not all good. It was far from good, actually. Moss somehow found himself in one of Shrader's bathrooms, on the floor, completely unaware of what to do. He wanted to slap himself out of it and get back to feeling normal, but he couldn't seem to shake it. He was feeling sick, but he was more feeling terrified. His body was clammy and he was shaking uncontrollably, and his eye twitched every so often. But more than the physical symptoms, he was experiencing the worst, most terrifying panic he ever had. Constantly looking over his shoulder, he feared that someone would walk in and do something to him. He felt his brain eating itself from the inside out, convincing him that he was in danger, grave, grave danger. His eyes flicked from the door to the window as he dug his fingers into the blue, shaggy carpet that he was sitting atop, just waiting for the terrible feeling to cease.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, which sent Moss into a fit of screams and cries. "Fuck!" He screamed, diving down as if he could dive right through the floor. He covered the back of his head with his forearms and took long deep breaths that would get interrupted by his shorter, more panicked and sporadic ones. There was another knock and Moss was convinced he was about to meet his doom, have his judgement day. "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," he whispered to himself as he rocked back and forth, closing his eyelids so tight that his eyes forced themselves back open for a quick release. 

He stayed like that for a couple minutes, rocking on the ground, crying and shaking, trying to accept the fact that he was going to die soon enough. But it was hard to accept, and after a moment of rational thought, he sat up and struggled to pull his phone from his pocket. It seemed impossible to pull from the small flap of fabric and took him nearly two minutes, but when he finally held it in his hands, he kissed it dramatically and started to dial a number.

After pressing the green dial button, he slammed the phone to his ear and shoved his body up against the cabinets as he lay, still curled into a ball. He figured being against the cabinets would be safer as he waited and waited out the ringing. Shaking still, he brought his thumb to his mouth and bit down on it, but harder than usual. He bit down with such force that he drew blood and started to scream. "Holy shit!" He cried, wondering if someone had snuck in to stab him. He turned his neck around and didn't see anyone, so he went back to nestling his face under the cabinet with his phone still to his ear.