out of breath ; hemmings au

two

I think someone’s calling my name in the distance. “Moon” there it is again, closer. “Moon, get up” What? I start shaking, not willingly. I try stopping it but it doesn’t work. I even try to say ‘get off’ unsuccessfully. “We pulled over. You can go to the loo now. I’ll grab something to eat, you hungry?"

I slowly open my eyes. Obviously I was asleep. I find some big blue eyes staring right into mine. Beautiful I might add, but who’s the owner? Where am I? I look away to take in my surroundings and then remember last night’s events, I tense and look at him again. He took me away from my town not even letting me make contact with my family.

“Don’t start that,” he clearly realised my tightened jaw. “We don’t have much time so go on,” he opens the door where I was previously leaning against.

I get off the car without a word. The moment I touch the ground with my toes I whine. Fuck. It hurts so badly. I forgot my feet were in agony.

I feel a hand on my back. “You right? Want me to help you?” I shake my head. I don’t want his help or his hands on me, so I suck up the pain and stand up. I advance, holding one tear per step. Thankfully, the tracksuits bottoms he lent me are too long for me, what eases the pain on part of my feet.

I hear someone approach me and I turn my head. This Luke guy is jogging towards me. “Here,” he hands me a pair of socks, “wear them after you clean up, so your feet don’t get infected again.” I stare at him for a moment trying to figure him out, but I can’t. I just grab the socks from his hand and continue heading to the petrol station’s toilets.

That blonde is unreadable. He goes from rude and demanding to nice and caring in minutes. I wish I could read minds or something; it’s driving me crazy not knowing his true intentions. Actually, my real problem is human’s ambiguity in general. It’s like they’ve millions of personalities in one single body and you can never tell who they are for real. We all put masks on to talk to people depending on who they are or where they stand socially. It’s so lame. I rather not relate to anyone for that matter, but I have to, there’s a reputation I have to keep up with. I know I sound hypocritical, but that’s how the world works unfortunately, and if I’m stuck in it then I’ll be on top. But believe me, it’s not easy at all, it’s exhausting and extremely lonely. I’ll never admit it out loud though, I’m perfect for everyone and that won’t change.

When I finally reach the door I push it open. The mirror in the wall is in poor conditions. I meet my eyes in it despite the big brownish non-reflecting spots all over its surface. My reflection shows the mess I’ve turned into. My hair is tangled and dull, and frizz looks like an aura around it. My face’s full of marks from the bad night sleep and bright red scratches from the branches in the woods. My eyes weren’t helping either, they were puffy and redden from crying too much, now add the bags under them. I never thought I’d let myself go around looking like this, but right now I have no option. Thankfully, there’s no one important to witness or judge this not-so-perfect-me.

Dropping my awful appearance matter and going back to the main reason I came here, I put my hand into my hoodie’s pocket and take the little plastic bag I was eager to see again. I mentally pat my back for grabbing this form the table before running away from the unknown man in my house. Leaving the socks next to the sink, I hold it before me examining its content. Probably, there’s enough white powder for a week. I’ll just have to ration it wisely to make it last. I’m so anxious to feel its effect on me: I need energy and strength, I need to grow in confidence, and I need to be able to escape this shit I’m going through. I put my pinkie into the bag taking out with it a small amount of cocaine to inhale. It feels so good, going up my nose straight to my brain. I smirk knowing my body won’t last long to react to it. I link my finger so I’m not wasting any bit of drug.