Latch {Short Story}

Chapter Six

~ October 4th, 1996 ~

After what feels like a lifetime of college and lockdown, it's Friday. Not only is it the weekend, but it is also the day that my parents let me go. I'm free from their wrath. Finally.

There's something different about being in Bertie's room. When we go out together, it's fine, we're 'normal.' But when we're here, something changes. It's like we're transported into a alternate universe where only the two of us exist- the world stops and we're the only ones living.

"What're you thinking about?" He questions, brushing away a long strand of hair from my face.

I gaze longingly into his eyes. They are so dilated today,- meaning that he isn't completely stoned.

"You."

He shakes his head in response and we carry on laying.

...

...

...

"Is this the bit where we fuck?"

I slap him on the stomach and reply, "Piss off." I don't want him to piss off, nor do I want him to have sex with me. Not yet. "Your gift was interesting."

He gleams at me with his trademark smile and nods. "That's given me a good idea, Mrs. Harrison."

He swerves a metre across his room over to his desk, unlocks padlock on the top draw, and sifts through mounds of paper. He grabs his desired item, locks up the draw again and returns to the bed. Of course in hand he has a plastic syringe with a liquid substance inside, (similar to the one he presented me with.) And a shabby spotty tie to cut off the circulation.

"This will be the death of me." He laughs. Oh how I wish he was joking.

I tightly wrap the tie around my arm, and wait til my veins are more prominent. Once they've bounced to the surface, I look away and wait til I feel the sharp prick of the needle. Having a needle and blood phobia isn't ideal in these circumstances. Bertie does the same to himself, then copies me as we lie waiting for the Heroin to take its toll.

"You'll be the death of me." I mimic his previous comment as I look down at the spot of blood coming from my arm. He wipes it away with the tip of his thumb, and as if by magic, it was never there.

The silence of his room is broken by my ever so cliche techno phone ringtone at the side of Berties bed. I answer it rapidly with my good arm, only to be disappointed by the caller.

"Hey babe, what're you doing?" Queries my phantom roommate, Romy. Before I can even come up with a sorry excuse, she's answered me. "I'm nearly back in Norfolk and my rents want me home. Will you come and stay the night?"

I let out an obvious sigh and respond, "I'm spending the weekend with Bertie. Sorry."

Though of course, that isn't a good enough excuse for Romy. "Bring him with you! The more the merrier. See you in an hour."

And surely, she see's us as planned- an hour later, despite Berties' refusal.

"Well, isn't this fun!" Mocks Romy. We're sat casually in her pristine lounge, on a slippery baby pink double sofa. Yes, the three of us have squeezed onto a sofa meant for two. "You never mentioned how hot you boyfriend is, Etty!"

I shake off her comment about Bertie. I can't let her effect me.

"Is that so?" Bertie bites hard on his lip as he glances at Romy. She seductively nods and he carries on. "What else hasn't she told you?"

Romy pouts her lips like she traditionally would when flirting. "Wouldn't you like to know."

We go back to a conversation lacking room. Well, I do anyway. I'd rather sit here silently while they flirt, rather than say something I know I'll regret. My blood is boiling with drugs and anger; but whatever. My feelings don't matter.