Violet skies and golden trees

5. Further into paradise, further away from safety

'Florida, Florida, Florida,' the voices screamed in my ears, much too loud. I tried to move but my limbs were pinned to my sides. I couldn't open my eyes. Panic welled up inside me and with an urgent desperation I willed my arm to move. With an enormous effort I managed to pull my arm up and grope the moist air. Slowly, my eyes opened and I stared uncomprehending at the concrete jungle looming over me.

'Go away,' I said drunkenly. 'Go away, go away, get away from me, now, now, go, go, go,' my voice trailed off weakly.

'Florida, it's me Forest.'

The only thing I could think of in that moment was obscenities. He was not supposed to see me like this.

'Florida, you've clearly drunk too much,'

'I didn't drink anything,' I said automatically. Then images of goblets of green liquid burned my retinas. 'Maybe I did. I don't know.'

'Look, I'm going to take you home Florida, it's three in the morning and you're frozen.' I didn't feel cold but when I looked at my nails they were an ugly shade of blue. 'Florida, what did you do?' he sighed wrapping his hoody around me.

'Sorry Forest, I...' I wanted to tell him about my homemade drugs, the mushrooms I had ground up in my hands and gulped down with water. 'I must have drunk too much. My head hurts, I... look, um... I don't think my parents should know about this. I'll, I'll walk it off,' I tried to stand but the world swayed before me and I sank back down with Forest's arms around me lowering me gently to the floor. I swore.

'It's not like you Florida, is something wrong?'

How could I answer a question like that?

'How's your anxiety?' I asked instead.

'You're just diverting the conversation now. I know that you feel lonely and desperate sometimes, is that why you drank too much?'

Everything was suddenly becoming clearer to me: I was on the outskirts of the city, it was three in the morning, I was coming down off a bad trip, I needed some safer drugs, I needed real drugs, I needed to get rid of Forest. What was Forest doing hanging around the streets at three in the morning?

'Forest,' I said with my heart racing in my chest, 'what are you doing here?'

'I needed some fresh air,' that made two liars.

'Forest, if you needed help, you'd know to come to me, right?'

'Sure,' he said, looking away.

God, how could I help him if I couldn't even help myself? I decided to drop the subject. 'Have you got a drink?' I asked.

'I'll get you one,' he said propping me up against a park bench. 'Stay here, don't move, Florida, I mean it,' he commanded.

'I won't,'

'Good,' he said rushing around the corner, presumably back to his house. I willed him to go and to never come back. I was a mess; he didn't need me in his life. I hated myself. Why did I have to be like this? He had problems, worse than mine but yet he was coping, still living innocently, like an angel.

I was a fallen angel, once innocent, now hooked on her own makeshift drugs. God, I needed more, I needed to feel something, anything- fear, confusion, anger, love- anything to make me feel alive. A trip was the only way I could do that to myself. I bit my lips, I had to get some more but I wanted a good trip, this time. Trips without dark tunnels of isolation, trips without trapped Evangeline's; I needed enlightenment, a very good trip.

Perhaps I could get that from synthetic drugs: not woodland mushrooms crushed up myself but the powered shrooms sold by dealers. Perhaps I could find some now. I would do anything, pay anything, break any rules to get them. Cursing myself I stumbled to my feet and staggered along the pavement leaving nothing but my scarf behind for Forest to find. He needed to know; I wasn't what he thought I was. I was an addict, now. He didn't belong with me. I wasn't worthy of his company. I looked back one last time. I had changed. My old life was definitely over. I was never coming back.

'Money, money, money... here you go, have it all,' I shoved the notes into his hands and the drugs into my mouth. 'Thank you,' I wheezed breathlessly before stumbling back along the pavement. I could feel him watching me; they were such penetrating eyes. I turned back to stare at him. They were red, bloodshot? No, just dark, dark, red. My jaws clamped shut, I couldn't speak.

'You a'right?' he asked. I managed a slight nod of my head. Of course I was alright: I was free, I was empty, I was in paradise.

I hadn't noticed his long black hair before. He was wearing a shirt hanging open at the top of his chest. Spindly hairs crept out curling like little insect legs over the creases in his shirt. He wore loose brown trousers stuffed into sturdy black boots. Quite a becoming attire, I thought; I stepped closer.

'What was your name again?' I managed to ask.

'Oberon,'

'What?'

'Oberon,'

'Are you a fairy?'

'No, I'm a pirate.'

'Are you sure you are not a fairy?'

'Do I look like a fairy?'

'Do you believe in past lives?'

'You answered a question with a question,'

'so did you,'

'suppose I did.'

'Well, past lives?'

'I believe in nothing. Nothing except the ride,'

'What ride, a motorbike ride?'

'A boat ride,' with a sinking sensation in my stomach I looked around at the violent waves smacking the sides of the large wooden boat on which I sailed.

'I'm sailing,'

'Of course you are'

'What to, I wonder?'

'freedom?'

'Perhaps, or nothing.'

'Or the horizon,'

'I'll never get there,'

'No but the illusion, it's worth it, just for a little while, perhaps?'

'Yes, it is. You are a fairy, in your own way, aren't you?' I never received an answer for my legs buckled underneath me and I slipped unconscious, again.