In the Lion's Teeth: Second Edition

Chapter Five

Nothing lasts forever. Stars collapse in on themselves, relationships fall apart, finals wrap up, and semesters come to a close.

That means, eventually, your trip has to end, too.

Your dose was so low that when it starts to wear off, at first, you only notice because of the slight headache. You finally sit up and Benji shifts aside when you lean over to shuffle through the drawer of your bedside table for the bottle of 5-HTP you picked up at the vitamin store down the street yesterday, and you grab a bottle of water from your mini-fridge and pop a capsule. Supposedly taking a few of them every now and then will keep your serotonin levels up, because, damn, you definitely just used up a bunch of it over the past five hours or so. Benji chuckles softly and when you turn around, you see her shaking her head, disbelieving.

"5-HTP?" she asks.

You nod, then finish swallowing. "Yeah."

"You're better prepared than most seasoned drug users I've dealt to," she says.

"I told you, I may not know how each drug will hit me, but I've done my research," you say. "I know what I'm doing."

But even though that's true, when suddenly the warm cloud of contentment rips out from under you and you crash back down into neurosis and fear and despair, hard, you're completely unprepared.

Your tongue is dry, your hands shake, and when you curl your fingers into your hair and lower your head in a position that's familiar, at least, if not safe anymore, your palms are hot and sweaty. When you breathe, you have to force it, slow and unsteady.

You look up from the floor and over at Benji and ask, "You still have my tape recorder?"

She holds it up. You walk over and take it, turn it back on again, and start talking. Your words are clipped, quick, but... not the same. It's an urgency, now, not excitement.

"About five and a half hours after initially taking MDMA, about four and a quarter since the effects kicked in. Crashing. Slight headache, shaky hands, dry mouth, anxiety. Not sure how much is actually the drug and what is just me readjusting to my normal state of mind. More details to come as things change. Just took a 500 milligram capsule of 5-HTP to attempt to counter some of the effects. Have read that in addition to serotonin replenishment, it can make you drowsy and be used as a natural sleep aid, so hopefully it will counteract the residual stimulus from the MDMA and let me get a little sleep."

When you stop, you leave the recorder going for a moment longer. Then your thumb snaps down on the switch and you flip it off.

You feel the same, but worse.

When you walk back to your bed, your feet drag in an awkward shuffle, your hands tense open and closed and open again, muscles flexing and fingers curling and finally you dig your nails tightly into your palms, and with the sharp, brief pain comes the familiar shrieking and whining and crying, everything you keep locked away in the back of your mind that you can't let out. But you're still in a weird half-high state, coming down but not yet sober, and your tongue is still dangerously loose, your grip on your self-control much too flimsy for comfort.

"I'm going to need you to leave," you murmur.

Benji doesn't move or speak until you open your eyes to look her in the face.

"Why?" she says softly, seriously.

"Because I'm not sober enough to keep my shit together," you answer. "And." But you can't finish the sentence, you can't say it out loud. And I don't want you to see if I end up hurting myself.

"Then you're not sober enough to be alone," she says gently. She pulls out her phone and her thumb hovers over the screen. "You want me to call Mitch? Would you rather be with him?"