(Formerly known as "When Our Paths Crossed")
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A tale of two lost souls brought together by pain, grief and trauma.
Atlas tries to find a place in a world he's worked so hard to escape. Elijah struggles to balance the life he's building and the...
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TOO SOON, THE high falls, and I'm crashing. I snap awake suddenly, disoriented and confused. My body twinges with aching pain, and I have to stifle my moans as my eyes flutter open. Every piece of me hurts... except my legs. Though, if I'm not mistaken, I swear I feel their pulse too.
I'm in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed. As the confusion settles and I shake myself out of the lingering clutches of sleep, I realize that I do know where I am. I've been here countless times before I got on the straight and narrow.
Her room is the same as it had been last time I'd stepped foot in it. The walls are covered with ratty posters, some so faded and tattered that I can't even really tell what it's supposed to be anymore. Mounds of clothes litter the room, taking refuge on the floor, on the big armchair, on top of the dresser. She has a lot of clothes.
The bed I'm lying on is too soft and lumpy for my liking, and my back whines in protest as if to drive home that point. The heavy, scratchy blanket is one of those you buy at a van parked in a parking lot. I've always been curious but nervous about those vans. Looks like I'm not missing anything anyway. The pillow is flat as a piece of cardboard, and it's hard like one too.
Selena's sleeping next to me, facing me. She looks so serene in sleep it's almost impossible to believe she's a wicked bitch. Her curls hang in her face, one cheek squished against her pillow. She's not wearing much save for a lacy red bra over her heavy, large breasts. Her dark skin is smooth like dark chocolate, and I distantly remember stroking her arm at some point.
I look away hastily, hoping that we didn't do anything I'll regret. I'm still clothed, which is promising.
I feel the beginnings of a headache, and swallowing hurts. My mouth is desert dry and in desperate need of water, but I don't see any sitting on the bedside table. All I can do is lie here and stare up at the ceiling and try to assess the situation.
Out of the drugs' magical grip, I realize all of this has been a colossal mistake. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have let Selena drug me up like that, and yet I had. My temper got the better of me once again.
"You always were an idiot," my mom whispers in my ear. "A weak, fucking coward. You deserve this."
I swat her words away and ease myself into a sitting position, ignoring the pops and cracks from my joints. My mom's cackles fill my mind, never straying too far. A constant reminder that, even though she's dead, she's still here.
Disturbed by my movement, Selena groans and rolls onto her side, but her deep and heavy breathing quickly fills the air. When she rolls over, though, I see the sleek, black gun sitting on her bedside table, and I literally feel the colour drain from my face. There had been a moment when someone familiar spoke to me. I thought it was a dream, but now...?
Well, fuck, Atlas, what have you gotten yourself into now? Whatever it is, it's time to bounce.
I drag a hand through my hair and look around for my chair. It's not here. Where's my chair? I check my phone. It's dead, and I can't find a charger. Fuck!
