Sometimes I think the menthol burns more than the alcohol. Sometimes the burn stays longer. It feels like it burns a warning in the back of my throat that saying something like they teach kids in high school. That my life is not worth a cigarette. Cigarette's lead to Pot, Pot leads to drugs that will fuck you up. Well, I was fucked up before I started the drugs. I don't regret taking that first hit. I liked the feeling it gave me when I flicked the butt away. The feeling of being rebellious. Even though I knew that one would potentially turn into a pack a day, something drew me to them. One after another, I was always left coming back for more. But, being a teen runaway, you only have so much money, being 17 and selling my body for money so I could buy cigarette's isn't what I thought my life would turn out to be. Though, I never thought much of myself, still, selling my body was pretty low. When I was 18 I met a guy. At first I was too scared to beg for money, or food, or even cigarette's because, well, he looked like he was in the same position as me. He wore ripped skinny jeans, a red flannel over a stained white shirt, and worn Chuck Taylor's. He stopped and looked at me. He eyes were focused on my skinny frame and the dirty clothes that were barely clinging to it. I'll never forget what he told me;
"lets go to McDonalds."
After our trip to McDonalds, he took me back to his place and he introduced me to his friends. He then told me that I wouldn't have to live on the street anymore because I could live with him. Of course I was nervous at first, I mean, I just met this guy and the only think I know is his name. But I stayed, and I still live there. Alex drinks with me so I don't have to drink alone. He talks to me like I am human. He understands. When he looks at me he's looking at me and not through me. He tells me he loves me and I say it back because if this isn't love then what is? He tells me I'm pretty. He gives me hope.
"Stella," I hear coming from behind me. I turn around and Alex is sitting on the beat up chair in front of the coffee table. He sorts through the pile of drugs he just picked up.
"Yes baby?" I ask as I wrap my arm around his shoulder and sit on his lap. He laughs and hands me a bag of pills.
"I got the shit you asked for," He kisses my neck. He leaves a trail of sloppy kisses up to my jaw line. I lower my lips to his and close the distance between us, which wasn't much of a gap. He snakes his arm around my waist and snags the bag from my hand. He pulls away and grabs a pill from the bag. I open my mouth and he pops one in. I swallow it and smile. He smiles and back and holds my body closer to his.
10:23pm:
I lay on the floor and watch the images playing on the ceiling. I smile and try to reach for them. Then I get nauseous. I roll over and take a few breathes.
"You sure you could handle those pills?" Ashton asks. Ashton is one of Alex's friends. I swat him away and roll back over. I've never felt better. I jump to my feet and make my way into the kitchen. My stomach growls but there is no food. I sigh and walk back into the living room to enjoy the rest of this high.
12:47am
Alex and I are smoking outside. He hands me his joint and let's me take a hit. I inhale as much as I can and I stand back. I hold it in until it feels like my lungs are about to collapse. I cough and blow smoke everywhere. Alex laughs and wraps his arms around my waist.
"Stella," he starts, "have I ever told you how much I love your hair?" he asks as he tangles his fingers in my messy hair. I smile and kiss his cheek. "It's so, blonde," he says as he smells it. "And it smells like green apple." he kisses my neck and he pulls me closer. I tilt my neck to the side and fall into his embrace. We start making our way inside, his lips still fixed on my neck. He pulls away for a second to open the door to our room. He lays on the bed and waits for my company. I shut the door and look at him. I'm not really in the mood, but I've never really said no. I hesitantly make my way over to him and I lay next to him. Despite not being in the mood, I let him do it anyway. When he's finished, he falls asleep with his face nuzzled into my neck. After a while I pull myself away from his embrace. I quietly leave the room and make my way into the kitchen. Jack is asleep on the couch with an empty beer in his hand. I open the cupboard and shift through the half empty bottles until I find my bottle of Jack Daniels. I unscrew the cap and take a big sip. I wince in pain as the whiskey makes it's way down my throat. The burn makes it's way up my nose and in the back of my throat. No matter how much it hurts I keep drinking. I drink to make the pain go away. After a while the burn doesn't even bother me. It actually starts to feel good. My head spins and I grab the counter top for balance. I don't stop drinking. I take another swig and soon I'm sitting on the floor crying. My bright blonde hair is draped in front of my face and the bottle of Jack is attached to my lips. My vision is blurry and my stomach is turning. I reach up and put the bottle on the counter. I get on all fours and crawl to the bathroom. Once I get there, it's a race to the toilet. I make it to the toilet and I grip it with both hands. The contents of my stomach are spilled into the toilet and I'm left heaving on the floor.
Though I am left dry heaving on the bathroom floor, I still want to drink. I want to drink so much that I won't remember who I am. I want to wake up the next morning and forget everything. Forget what it felt like to born into the system. Living day by day knowing that you won't be loved. Forget that by the time I was 14 I knew I would never have a chance at having a real family, then at 15, leaving that godforsaken Foster home and trying to live on my own. Forget how many dicks I've sucked to get myself out of the rain, or to buy myself a pack of fucking cigarettes. I wished I could just wipe my memory and start again. Forget about drugs and alcohol and the drugs and what kind of happiness it brings me to put a needle in my arm.
My face is wet with tears and my shirt is covered in vomit and whiskey. I cling to the toilet and hope that there is nothing left in my stomach. I lay my head against the porcelain and my eyes fall heavy. Soon I am unable to open my eyes and I fall asleep on the bathroom floor. Moments later I feel to arms slide under me and lift me off the ground. my eyes are to heavy to see who it is. I assume it's Alex so I lean into his chest and let him take me wherever. He lays me in bed and covers me up. I feel two lips pressed against my forehead. Not long after that I fall back asleep still wishing that I could wake up tomorrow and not remember anything.
