𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 -𝐑.𝐂

[one]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

"𝐉𝐉,𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇"

I WOKE UP TO the bright yellow sun beaming through the curtains and my hair being caressed by JJ's hand. I stretch my head backwards to peer at him.

"What are you doing J? " I groan.

"Observing the most beautiful girl ever," He kisses me lightly on the lips.

"JJ, kisses aren't going to keep me from going-"

"Can't you just stay in bed with me today?" his lips crawl up to my ear, making my skin go into an uproar of goosebumps.

"You know I can't JJ."

"You still haven't told me why. "

"I have to go to my parents going-away party tonight. They're making me wait to find out who is taking me in for the summer. They think that these people are going to make me become more biased so I settle down and take some fucking etiquette classes," I roll my eyes, sighing to myself.

"I think you should at least try for your parents. I mean, they're asking something simple from you."

"Really, JJ? That's what you got to say? "

"Sorry-"

"Just shut up. "

He finally shuts his shit- talking mouth, so I get up and rush over to the dresser, grabbing a baggie of coke. I let my nose take a whiff of it's glorious, intoxicating smell.

I pour a small bit of it onto the wooden top. Grabbing a wilting dollar bill from the side, I roll Mr. Washington into a cylinder. I then put the money up to my right nostril, plugging the other while inhaling the drug.

The effect it puts me in today is mellow. Sweet mellow.

After another line, I sit next to JJ's side drawer trying to find a lighter for my cigarette.

"It's right there, " JJ says, handing it to me.

I snatch it out of his hands and light the flammable tip of cancer. JJ somehow was used to me going into fits like these.

My brain is like an explosion walking around some days. At least that is what I like to think. I've been known as the "psycho girl" as long as I can remember. I go into states of depression here and there,  and I've never able to control it.

I pretend that drugs are the only way to stop it all. I honestly couldn't count how many times I've tried to overdose. Drugs are my personal prescription for only a few minutes.

If I go without an ounce of coke for more than twenty-four hours, I don't feel real anymore. I feel remotely insane. Therefore, Leo, the famous drug dealer of Charleston, gets a better paycheck from me than working at "The Wreck".