Placebo [Entry for YoungWritersShortStory]

Placebo

 Every nerve in his body was set alight, tingling sensations spreading from head to toe. The crisp night air, harsh only moments ago, now felt pleasantly cool on his face. His mind had opened to the beauty of the starry sky, new colours having suddenly been revealed to him. A wave of dizziness swept over him, soon to be replaced by unprecedented ecstasy and excitement in the pit of his stomach. Catatonia enveloped him momentarily, and he could only stare, his mind very dimly aware of the others’ reactions. He had an abrupt impulse to laugh, but that, too, passed. Swaying where he stood, Vincent blinked stupidly and gawped at the little white pills.

 “What are they?”

 “Dunno,” slurred Sam, who had procured the drugs, “name’s too long to remember.”

 Sam’s eyelids were heavy, his speech impeded by an excess of saliva. Vincent supposed he was in a similar state, but he found he didn’t care. Looking around at the rest of the group, he saw several dazed smiles and unconcerned, unfocused expressions. The few who had yet to take the pill looked slightly apprehensive, but wouldn’t dare refuse, for to do so would be to risk being cast out.

 Vincent was amazed at the enormous and almost instantaneous effect of such a small stimulus. He made the mistake of taking another capsule. Almost as soon as he had swallowed it, an irrefutable urge to sleep took him, the streetlamps and stars becoming little more than friendly, twinkling lights bidding him a good night. Some of Vincent’s immense tiredness must have rubbed off, for Sam began to laugh, pointing at him and informing the assembly at large of his response to the drug. Vincent, however, did not find this funny, nor, he found, was he as relaxed as the rest of them seemed to be. The sensations became sinister all of a sudden, and he was no longer enamoured with the drugs. Something unpleasant was settling over Vincent, and he could stay here no longer.

 “Sam,” he began in a low, slow tone, determined to get his point across, “Sam, we need to go back.”

 Vincent would, of course, be staying in Sam’s house tonight. His own parents would be livid if they knew he was out this late, let alone what he was doing at such an hour. Sam’s parents, on the other hand, could not reprimand anyone for using narcotics without being guilty of hypocrisy. They were astoundingly negligent in the field of parenting, and therefore perfect when it came to matters like these.

 “C’mon Vince, we just started,” Sam teased, “You can’t be that weak.”

 “Sam, please,” Vincent croaked, now desperate and paranoid that someone would see him, despite the fact that they were on the empty top level of a multi-storey car-park at four in the morning.

 “The baby wants to go home, guys,” Sam sneered, to apathetic laughter from a few members of the gathering.

  Vincent was oblivious to the insult, his only concern being whether or not Sam would heed his advice. To Vincent's great relief, Sam reluctantly got to his feet, having been sat cross-legged on the ground. Vincent must have looked worse than he'd thought, because Sam was normally a very inconsiderate person. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the drug. Vincent stumbled slightly as they left, and the laughter that ensued was quite definite. Together, they began the short walk back to Sam's upper-class home, Sam whistling tunelessly and occasionally breaking into unexplained bouts of laughter at mundane things, Vincent constantly glancing around him, afraid of being caught. 

 As they were rounding a corner, Vincent again lost his footing, and fell into an elderly man, who caught him and lifted him back to his feet.

 "Whoa there!" he gave a kindly chuckle, before apparently noticing some effect of the drugs in Vincent's face, and spitting angrily, "HEY! What d'you think you're doing? I know your parents boy, I'll tell them all about this!"