Permanent Marker, Stuck In My Head, A Collection of Jian Stories

fire,

I let out a sigh of relief as smoke billowed out of my mouth, making a beautifully deadly halo around my messy hair. But even the cancer sticks weren't diminishing the thoughts in my head, the ones more dangerous than the poison in my veins.

"Hazel!" I called, just on a whim, hoping that maybe my baby girl would come running into the hotel room and jump on my bed. If I tried hard enough, I can still feel her soft fur between my fingers, but I don't bother to try with anything anymore.

"Hazey!" I yelled louder. "Come here, babes! Come back!"

The yelling got louder and louder until someone pounded on my door, asking if I need help finding my dog, or if he could help with anything.

"No," I replied, inhaling another breath of poison and releasing more smoke. "Unless you can bring someone back from heaven."

The man stared at me, then realization dawned on him. He stared at the floor, unsure of what to say.

"Make me forget." I whispered, mostly to myself. The man in front of my looked up and grinned, promising me that he would indeed help me forget. I nodded hesitantly, not sure of what was going on, until he took my cigarette and smushed it against his finger tip, then pushed me back into the hotel room and closing the door with a faint click.

•••

I sat at the bar, head in hands, filing through my mind and thinking of everything I'd lost lately. I took my phone out and looked through old videos of me and Vega, or me with all of my friends and Wishbone. Even the material items in the house were gone, and everything tore me to shreds.

"Can I help you?" The bartender takes my glass and offers to refill it who knows how many times that night. I nod silently, still looking through my phone as the glass is set beside me. I gulp down the burning liquid greedily, then ask for more. I can still remember, and I don't want to remember.

A few drinks later, and a man sits down beside me. His smile is charming, and he smells like pine. Nor the Christmasy kind, though.

"How are you?" His accent is southern and thick, and I instantly smile at him. He's handsome.

"Good." My voice is shaking. "You?"

He shakes his head in an annoyed manner, but his eyes are still bright and his smile is still apparent. "Just trying to get laid, and I'm having trouble doing just that." He said bluntly. I stared at him in shock as he continued. "All of the girls here are clingy. I thought a handsome man like you could give me some advice." He winked at me, and I don't think I've ever been more confused in my entire life. So he's straight, bi? Is he hitting on me, or just being friendly?

The man was waiting for an answer, so I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Why do labels matter anyways? Like who you want to like.

In all of my haste, I didn't realize that the southern man had left and was talking to a blonde girl with way too much makeup on. I rolled my eyes and downed my drink again, still feeling the stab of regret and guilt in my stomach that I've been fighting so hard to ignore. I need something to make it go away.

Another girl, this time brunette with a pixie cut, sat down next to me and mumbled something incoherent. I stared at her and she stared at me.