Three weeks later, life has a rhythm. I have new jeans and new shoes. But I am no longer content. I see your face everywhere I go. I sink deeper into myself. You start to worry about me. I hear you open my door at night, I pretend to be asleep. I know you are making sure I am still here. I don’t speak through the day, instead leading myself down tunnels through my mind, deeper, darker, and danker than before. I think of running away, finding a dealer. Always I have wanted to try meth. I wonder how much money I would have to save up, who I would have to find to deal it to me, if it would silence the screaming in my head, even if only for a little while. I convince some man at the store to buy me some vodka. I convince you I am 21, old enough to drink. You don’t believe me, I can see it in your eyes. But at least the burn and the buzz block me from dwelling on losing you. That is all I ever think about, you walking away. Turning your back on me. I drink more and more, until I have no money left for a haircut, new jeans, panties that aren’t torn. Yet every night, I watch as you walk away from me yet again.
~~~
I kneel in front of the toilet, door locked, watching last week’s paycheck swirl in the bottom of the bowl. It’s then that I see it. Shiny, silver, sharp. I grab it gently, and stare back at my reflection. Tears swim in my eyes and I’m looking at you. You reflect back to me and I vomit again, keeping a careful grasp on my future.
~~~
I never knew blood flowed so easily. Or how easy it was to dig deeper and deeper. I say a silent prayer, thankful that it is winter and I have an excuse to wear jeans and hoodies. I am walking through the hardware store, trying to find new blades. Fresh wounds from this morning rib against the denim and I am watching my legs closely, watching for blood to seep through the pant leg. I locate what I am looking for and slide it into my pocket. I spent yesterday’s check already. I was thirsty.
~~~
You knock on my door and I quickly slide under the thick quilt, hiding the marks that pepper my legs. You say we need to talk, that you are worried about me. I try to reassure you that I am all right, but I know you don’t believe it. You tell me you want me to go to school, get a degree. Find a direction in life. You tell me I can’t just drink my life away. I silently scoff. My mother did. I agree to look at the community college classes, save some money to go. I know I am lying, and so do you. You always knew when I was lying. You move towards me and I flinch away. You drop your half-raised arms and give me a sad look. You regret me, I know you do. You have regretted me since the day we met. You just don’t know it yet. You walk out the room and I go back to decorating my legs and stomach.
~~~
I walk downtown. I want to score, I need something stronger than vodka, stronger than bud. I see you make an exchange with a woman who is skin and bones, chunks of her cheeks and neck missing. I know I have found you. I finger the $100 in my pocket, a nervous bubble in my throat. I know it’ll only get me a tenth but it is better than nothing.
I walk over to you, head down. I tell you I have something you want; in exchange for something I want. You run a finger up my arm, tell me I don’t need money. I smile up at you through my lashes and ask where we can go. We walk around the corner and you smile at a tall, white boy no older than 17, and he lets us in a doorway. We walk down the hall, pounding music and shouts from angry men and women float around our heads. You smile down at me, your white teeth in sharp contrast to your dark skin, and enter a doorway, pulling me along behind you. There is a man sitting with a woman between his legs and another woman naked on the couch next to him. He isn’t wearing pants and I smile at him. The woman next to him has her legs spread and he turns back to watch him while the first woman continues to move between his legs. You lead me into a back room and close the door, locking a chain and deadbolt in place. You tell me to sit on the bed. You ask me which I want first, you or ice. I tell you I want you first, because I know it’s what you want to hear. You stand in front of me and unzip your pants. I set to work.
~~~
I lay naked in bed, finally feeling no pain. I finally ask your name and you ask mine. I climb out of bed and ask for some of my own, for the road home. You hand me a small bag, a heavy tenth, and smile at me. You tell me you will see me around and I agree, smiling back at you. I walk out of your room. The threesome in the living room is over and the man is sprawled across the couch asleep, the two women playing a drinking game, naked, on the floor. I walk past them without a second glance, and out the door. Time to go home.
~~~
You don’t ask me where I have been or why I missed my shift at the bookstore, and I don’t give you a reason. I walk silently past you and into my room, closing my door behind me. After a few minutes, you knock on my door. I ignore you so you push it open. You smile at me. You ask me if you can come in. I nod up at you and you sit on the edge of my bed.
After a minute of silence, you lean over and kiss me. I pull away surprised. You look into my eyes then grab behind my head and pull me into another kiss. I don’t pull away this time.
~~~
An hour later, I lay on your chest, lightly panting. You are stroking my arm. You ask me where I am from, why I don’t let you in. A tear slips out of my eye as I kiss you lightly, tell you I love you, and get dressed slowly. Then I walk out.
