A love story
Chapters with * next to the number may contain sensitive content.
WARNING: contains strong language, violence, sexuality, emotional trauma, drug use, and other content suited for mature audiences. Don't read if you're a pansy.
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It was unsettling how quickly Bobcat's apartment became homey to me. The cracked wallpaper and lack of parental authority made me feel at peace—and so did the heroin, more so. Bobcat had managed to assemble the spoon and cotton faster than I've ever seen her go. She sat forward with anticipation as I leaned back into the fabric of her couch, a cigarette dangling out of my mouth.
"You first?" she grinned, turning to face me with her snake-like eyes.
I scratched the back of my head, shrugging. "Eh, you know...I think I should be chipping in, you know, paying for my share."
"You don't have to pay me, sugar," she informed me through an intoxicated giggled as if my suggestion was outrageously absurd. I dug my feet underneath the small, rectangular rug that her coffee table was on top of, observing the lighters and various drug paraphernalia scattered across the glass surface.
"I don't know, man, you see I keep coming back here and bummin' dope of you. I feel real bad about it." I attempted to reason out my side of the story but I could tell she wasn't interested in anything I had to say.
"Jude, I like having you come here, if I start making you pay, you'll go off and find some other skank willing to give it to you for free," she pouted, crossing her legs over top of each other.
"That sorta defeats the point." I rubbed my hands together in my lap, forcing a chuckle.
She hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes locked on the stained rug beneath her shiny pink shoes. Then she peeked up at me, a crude grin plastered to her face. She slid closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I know how you can pay for your share..." she whispered against my earlobe, tugging at a strand of my hair.
I snorted, pulling back. "You're kidding me, right?"
She leaned back, offended. "No, why you gotta say that?"
"Look..." I groaned, throwing my head down to rest in my arms. I ran a hand over the features of my face, sighing heavily. "You're...a real, real sweet girl, darlin', but I'm not gonna start bonin' you to get my shit."
Her face shifted, her thin brows arched and angled inward. She looked angry. "What's the big deal, man? Everybody else does it." She grumbled, angrily grabbing a skinny black belt off the table in which she would use to wrap around her upper arm.
"See, that's what I'm talking about, I don't wanna get like...sick or something." As soon as the words left my lips I immediately regretted it. Her mouth dropped open, veins popping from her forehead. Damn it damn it damn it.
"Sick?" She exclaimed, her eyes jerking up to pierce into mine.
"No, no, no, that's not what I meant to say—"
"Not what you meant, then what did you mean, huh? Think I got STDs? You think just because I get around that I have diseases, that I'm dirty? Screw you!" She threw my jacket that I earlier tossed onto the back of the couch very hard at my chest, the metal zipper hitting me right on my cheek bone.
