Degenerates

3

Four o'clock.

It was only four o'clock when the withdrawal set it.

Sage felt her stomach turn when the sweats began. Her supply had ran dry and payday wasn't for another week.

She stood on her toes, reaching for the top shelf when the trembling of her hands was too much to handle. The books she held suddenly tumbled to the floor and she scrambled to pick them up before anybody noticed her mistake.

Somehow, she hadn't noticed Tate, who was by her side picking up the books she dropped. "Uh, thanks," she mumbled, taking them from his hands and attempting to finish the task at hand.

She nearly reached the top shelf when a wave of dizziness hit her and she took a step back. "Here, let me help," he said, taking the books from her hands and shelving them in the completely wrong order.

He looked down at her as she stared at the floor, trying her best not to make eye contact with anybody around her. The last thing she needed was anybody asking questions and raising suspicions about the new girl.

"Are you alright?" Tate asked, "You're really pale." Her face was drained of all color, she looked as lifeless as a corpse.

"Yeah.. yeah i'm fine," she insisted, nodding her head, still avoiding eye contact.

Tate knew exactly what was going on, and he wanted nothing more than to relieve her. "Hey," his voice became low, "I can help you."

Her eyes met his, and in them she saw nothing but concern and good intentions. She was reluctant, but knew she was in no condition to pass up his offer.

She nodded her head carefully, and followed him to the door. Before they left, Tate made sure to let Tammy know that Sage wasn't feeling well and that he was taking her home.

He lead her up the metal stairs and to the door of his underwhelming apartment. Immediately she noticed the busted bolt lock, but decided not to ask.

She took a seat on his mattress and watched as he opened the cabinet under the sink, unscrewed a pipe, and pulled out his stash. What a curious hiding place, she thought.

He didn't have much left, just enough for the two of them to finish off.

"You don't have to do this for me... I know you need it too," she whispered. He simply smiled and grabbed her hand, and somehow, that was all the reassurance she needed.

He first tied her up, then himself. Together, they let the drug consume their thoughts. The faint smile on Sage's lips was haunting, and with a light hum of content, she drifted to sleep.

Tate, with a slightly weaker high, watched her through hooded eyes. He gazed upon her fair skin, so delicate and bruised. He ran his fingers through her long dark hair, and over her protruding collar bones. Her lips were chapped and dry, yet still held a dark shade of pink.

She was weak. She was thin. She was scarred. And she was beautiful.

Not long after, he too drifted away into a dream consisting mostly of the corrupted angel that lay beside him.

That morning, Sage woke to the violent rumbling of thunder just outside of the apartment. A wave of confusion came over her before she realized where she was.

She turned over to find Tate, leaning against the windowsill. His back was to her, as he gazed out to the rain pouring down onto the road below his apartment. The heavy patters of a storm was like his perfect melody. He could listen to it for hours.

Sage climbed to her feet, and joined him. Together they watched the people below them cowering under umbrellas, and scrambling to hide beneath roofs.

On the floor beside the bed, Tate's phone began to buzz. He glanced at the name flashing across the screen, before choosing to ignore it.

"So tell me," Sage began, "how is it that you can't afford so much as a dinner table, yet you have a cell phone?" Her eyes scanned the room before landing on an old, fat television sitting on the floor in front of the bed. "And a t.v?"

A small smile tugged at Tate's lips. He admired her ability to be so blunt.

"It was Mrs. D's."

Mrs. D was the sweet old woman that lived three doors down. Her husband had passed only two short years ago, and she had been barely strong enough to make herself a cup of coffee in the morning. Tate would come in a few times a week to help her around the house, do her shopping, and sometimes just to talk.

"She was my friend, I guess." He explained.

"So she gave it to you?"

"Not exactly," he chuckled, an attempt to hide the sadness that began to weigh on him at the mention of his neighbor. "She passed away last spring,"

The only woman Tate had never completely lied to. The only person he'd never robbed, cheated, or screwed over. The closest thing he had to family, taken, just like that.

"Her kids came by the apartment one day to take her things. That was the first time I'd ever seen them. They never visited, not even when her husband died,"

Sage's lips parted slightly, so taken by his story and the heavy emotion behind it.

"So I figured I would take something too, since I was the only one there for her when she needed it."

Loosing loved ones wasn't exactly new to Tate. He was used to it, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

He and Sage were alike in that sense. Throughout their short lives, they'd both had their fair share of pain and losses. Their eyes had seen things unimaginable to the common teenage mind.

And yet, their hearts, barely beating, still contained the ability to love.

After all the pain, disappointment, and betrayal, inside some deeply hidden crevice, lived that young naive kid that still believed happy endings were ahead.

Sage admired his demeanor, and the way he could make almost any situation into a good one. Tate's charm was mesmerizing. She hung onto his every word. It was nearly impossible not to, when he spoke with such passion and depth. With every word she found herself wanting desperately to know more and more about this mysterious boy whom she'd met only a couple weeks ago.

They spent the day watching old tapes on Mrs. D's television, because cable was a luxury neither of them could afford. Time slipped away from them and before the two could even notice that they had spent the entire day together, the sun began to set.

An orange glow shone in through the clouded windows of his apartment. Together, they went out onto the roof and watched the sun as it sunk, leaving them in the darkness that they'd become so used to.

They watched the activity below them. It was beautiful, in theory. The lights, the cars, the people. But Sage's mind was set on a quite brutal idea. She imagined how easy it would be to simply throw herself off of the building in which they stood. In the brief moments before eternal darkness, she would finally know how it felt to fly.

She glanced at Tate, wondering where his mind wandered to in times like these. If his thoughts were anything like her own.

They were.