Remnants of Evil

4

Restless. My heart beating too fast, my mind racing, anxiety and paranoia coursing through my veins, and yet I just laid there, Aristos' arm draped over my waist, my back pressed against his chest, his soft snores sounding regularly in my ear.

Who the fuck had it been? Was it random or did they plan to find me? Those brown eyes plagued my mind, mentally going through every person I knew, trying to figure out who those fucking eyes belonged to.

I exhaled, wiggling out from under Ari's arm. He mumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his other side, his face calm and peaceful in his slumber. I pulled on a pair of sweats and headed for Scott's room.

"Can't sleep again?" He sat on his unmade bed, the red sheets tangled together at the end. I sat beside him, pulling my legs towards my chest, resuming the position I had taken for the last three nights. My boss had let me take some time off, and I was thankful, all this lack of sleep had me zombified.

"I can't stop thinking about it," my voice was quiet, fearing that if I spoke too loud that the entirety of Louisiana would know I was weak. Scott softly ran his hand up and down my back, causing the tears I had managed to keep back to fall. "I ain't done shit that would cause someone to come after me, and Ion know if I'm just bein' paranoid."

He kept his hand moving, his gaze moving towards the wall, quiet in thought. "You remember Jeremy's ex?"

How did I fucking forget him, that skeezy smile, arrogance you could feel from a mile away, a know it all bitch.

"You think Kenny would come after us? It's been over a year."

"If someone did that to me ion think I'd ever forget it."

I exhaled, dropping my head to rest between my knees, images flashing through my mind of when we'd finally wiped that bitch ass smile off his face.

Scott and I were different then, both strung out little junkies who'd do anything for a fix. And we did. Kenny sold brown for the low, and even with how much of a prick he was he always had good shit. I'd never forget his face as Scott held the glock against his head. The way it drained of color, the fear in his  eyes. I'd never forget how he looked after we had gotten all of his heroin, all of the money he had on him, and we still beat him. Streams of blood decorating his pale face, the crunch as Scott broke his nose, his whimpers as I kicked his ribs over and over again. We finally broke his ego, and Scott was right. I'd never forget that either.

The memory made me nauseous, Scott pulled me in for a hug as he saw my look of discomfort. "I ain't gonna let you get hurt Kal, I'll murder a bitch before that happens."

I stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, basking in the silence, taking my time before breaking it. "You got anything to get me up?" He nodded, pulling away to reach into his bedside drawer. He pulled out two orange pills, thirty milligrams of Adderall each. He used the bottom of a glass to crush them up, laying out lines for both of us. We took them in turn, falling back onto the bed, rambling to each other as we stared at the ceiling.

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"I'm fucking leaving if you don't figure your shit out." Ari stood in the doorway to our bedroom, his voice slicing through the air, wedging itself deep in my chest. The anger and disappointment obvious on his face and in those cold words. He had never threatened to leave me before. We'd been together for eight years and he'd never even come close to saying those words.

The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone in our bed. I wish I could say I blamed him, that he was overreacting, that he was the one at fault, but as I could feel my veins itch and I peered down at the constellations of track marks that covered my left inner forearm, I couldn't blame him.

Two weeks since the robbery, two weeks of only sleeping when I'm nodding, two weeks of only eating when Ari forced me to, two long weeks of paranoia eating me alive. I wish he would just leave, maybe then I wouldn't be so worried. I could care less about getting hurt, I'd rather die than let something happen to him.

I stood, quietly opening the door, thankful that Ari had headphones on as he laid on the couch. I made the trip to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I fumbled through the cabinets, trying to find where Scott had put my shit after he used it. Finally my fingers found the little bundle, along with my rig and set up.

I bit my lip as I held the lighter beneath the spoon, wispy red flames licking against the metal as the contents melted down. The tourniquet had been tied, all I had to do was load my shit and go. I got the needle ready, holding it near the crook of my elbow as I held my breath, preparing myself for the sting.

But the sting never came.