Leather and Lace (Editing)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

*17 years old*

I wake up in bed feeling sick again. My stomach aches, my head is pounding and my mouth is so dry I can't swallow the thick substance coating my tongue. I groan and reach over to my IPod, looking at the time, 8am.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the dim light from the cracks in the curtains but I know I won't be able to get back to sleep, I may as well go to school today.

I feel the bed move beside me, telling me that Ethan is waking up. I roll over to face him and smirk slightly.

"You look like shit babe." I say teasingly. He does look pretty messy but it suits him. His dark brown hair is all tangled and sticking up in every direction, along with the dark circles under his pale green eyes and there are even scratches and little bruises on his chest and it's probably the same on his back. 

I’m not surprised though. We can get pretty rough when we're under the influence together. I guess I see it as revenge in a way. He's not the only one that gets to leave marks. I smile smugly.

It's different though. He does it when he gets angry and the outcome is worse than a few scratches and bruises.

I look down at my ribs and poke at the purple blotches from a few days ago. Luckily I don't have any broken bones, they're just bruised.

"Yeah well I feel pretty shit too, maybe you can make me feel better." He mumbles confidently in a suggestive tone while pulling me up to straddle him.

I sigh. "I need to go to school today baby and then I have to be home after." I say quietly while bending my head towards his slowly and grazing my lips against his softly, thinking about the best way to redirect his attention. "I guess I can skip last two periods and meet you. Where you going to be?" I ask. I know I'm teasing him by not giving him what he wants and still being on him, I also know how much it frustrates him when he doesn't get what he wants but I just can't help myself.

"I'll be at Joes, you better show up." He warns threateningly. I just kiss his cheek, jump of his lap, throw on my faded blue skinny jeans, a grey hoodie, some makeup to cover the healing bruise on my cheek and walk out the door, thankful I'm not forced to wear the god awful school uniform. 

I'm half way down the street when I feel my pocket and my unease is instant, dread filling my body as I realize I've forgotten the only thing I look forward to in a dragging day, my shots. I won’t make it through the day without them and as I think this, I can already feel the pulling need for it in my stomach. An aching need my body is so attuned to. Turning around, I rush back down the dirty street and bang on the wooden front door. It's locked.

"Ethan! Open up, I need my shots!" I yelled pleadingly through the door.

I don’t have to worry about anyone hearing me. It's a scummy neighbourhood and pretty much everyone had something against the cops, from family in jail to having their own addiction. So it's highly unlikely anyone’s going to call them.

After a few moments of banging on the door I gave up grimly and looked through the bared window. Ethan’s fast asleep on the bed and pretty much dead to the world around him. No point in trying to wake him up when he wouldn't even twitch if a bomb went off.

I guess I'll just have to suck it up for today and get through without my fixes.

When I was younger I resisted but then after a while of my parents ‘sharing’ I found myself being reliant on it. I was 15 when I met Ethan, I was at the corner with Oz and Ethan needed a fix, and here we are now.