Saving Death

Chapter 8

I wasn't sure how I'd got through the morning, but I was glad to finally have a distraction from the raw emotion inside me. As I got off the night bus, I dug my hands in my pockets and rounded the corner onto a busy street. There were people climbing in and out of taxis, queuing for club entry, or chatting outside in smoking areas, smoke dancing around their chilly faces. Most of them were smiling or laughing with friends, and I wondered if I'd ever feel like that again. Loosing Mum had already left me feeling alone in this world, but it felt like a hole had been punched in my chest when Sam walked out yesterday. Had he thought about me at all today? Shaking my head, I knew he hadn't. Of course, he hadn't. He was stronger than that. He'd made a decision. He didn't want me around anymore. He wanted me out of his life—safe, I thought with a grimace. Swallowing down the feeling of agonizing loneliness, I told myself to get a grip. I needed to get on with life and forget I'd ever met Sam. Tonight, I just needed to let myself go and find other ways of feeling alive.

Looking either way down the street, my shoes scuffed the pavement as I crossed the road and weaved behind a large set of pillars lining the front of a department store. All the buildings were intricate and grand, made of enormous blocks of yellow stone, and as I headed towards the high street, my shadow stretched out onto the walls; a reflection of how I felt inside.

When I reached Jackson street where Anderson's Music store was located, I immediately spotted Zac hunched in the shadow of a large stone pillar. He was wearing loose fitted jeans, trainers and an oversized sweater with the hood pulled up. Feeling relieved, I walked over to him. Although I craved the independence and freedom that came with growing up, I still didn't feel like wandering the streets on my own at night, but I got the distinct impression that Zac was used to it.

"Hey, you," he grinned, embracing me lazily so that my face brushed the soft material of his hoody. As he stood back again to look at me, I could see that his eyes were a reddish colour, and I recognised the look from when I'd been to Blake's.

"Are you stoned?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked back at me sheepishly through a haze of cannabis and I found myself wondering what it was like. I knew I was an idiot for even considering it, but as I thought of Sam and felt the wound inside my chest opening up, I decided I didn't care. Zac was leaning on the pillar beside me, his eyes half closed as he gazed at me.

"What's it like?" I asked innocently. "Being... you know...."

He stood up. "You want to try?"

I hesitated, knowing full well I was being stupid, but feeling a buzz of excitement inside at the same time. Maybe this was the way out of the numbness that grief brought and the agonizing pain and anger left from Sam's departure. I hadn't realised it was possible for one person to feel so many conflicting emotions at once. Maybe I just needed to take a few risks. Looking back at Zac, I nodded.

Smiling and reaching into his back pocket, Zac produced a lighter, which he held to the end of the joint, making it glow orange in the night air. As I watched, my heart started beating like a hummingbird in my chest. Was I really going to do this? I knew getting stoned probably wasn't the answer, but I needed something to dampen what I was feeling—anything.

I watched as Zac put his lips to the joint, his chest expanding. After a moment, he slowly he let the smoke drift from his mouth. The sweetened smell hit my nose and the smoke engulfed me. I was suddenly reminded of being at Blake's and how Sam had looked over at me—a private look that had conveyed a thousand thoughts. The memory was like a knife in my chest, and I reached out with determination as Zac handed me the joint.

Zac's blue eyes gazed at me, serious. "Ava, you don't have to—" he started.

"No, I do," I said, "I mean—I want to." I had to.