|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Thirty-Five}

"The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything."
-Hurt, Nine Inch Nails
This story has taken quite a dark turn, but I promise it'll get light again 😉
___Warning: Drug Use___

A bathroom. Of all places to get high, Harlan found himself in a bathroom. He couldn't complain too much, he had found himself facedown in public restrooms a time or two. Robbie swore he had found him in a urinal once—Harlan was glad he didn't remember that.

"You're gonna need to take your jacket off." Laura said, her voice echoing in the vacant space. "I know it looks good on you, but-" She giggled, helping Harlan slink out of his leather coat. "Ooo, I like the tats." She smiled, circling the faded rose on his arm.

"It's a coverup." Harlan spoke monotoned.

"I got plenty of those. What was her name?" Laura sat in the floor, folding in her legs. A spoon rested on her knee as she tore open the plastic bag with her teeth.

"Whore-that-ruins-lives." Harlan smirked, sliding down the wall next to her. He intertwined his fingers in his lap, stretching his legs out as he looked to the sinks ahead. He couldn't believe he was doing this—again.

He heard the sound of a lighter striking. She had gotten a bottle of water from Jason's "office," being sure not to watch as she poured a cap full of water into the spoon. Harlan had never learned how to shoot up, simply because it was self assurance—if he didn't know how to, he never would.

"I feel you. This guy I was with for two years, Damien... really fucked me up. Not as bad as Amber though, she really hurt me."

"So you do go both ways." Harlan's half-grin widened, slowly turning his head to face Laura.

"Love is love. It sees no color... no gender." Laura spoke, opening the sealed syringe. She pulled apart the plastic, taking the back of the pump to the needle and mixing the drug in the spoon.

"I love pussy too much to try dick." Harlan laughed. He wasn't even high yet and he found himself laughing. Perhaps the alcohol had helped. Harlan knew he wouldn't be sitting in the bathroom of some rave party getting ready to shoot up heroin if he were sober.

"So what happened between you and goody-two-shoes?" Laura asked, pulling back the plunger, filling the barrel. Harlan watched as the substance moved past the black lines on the side.

"She's too good for me."

"Pshh, yeah right." Laura scoffed. "She thinks she's too good for you."

"No... she really is. She's perfect and I'm... well, I'm not." Harlan chuckled weakly—saddened by his own truth. "I fucked everything up. I started drinkin' again... I fooled around."

"You cheated?"

"Not exactly. It was after I told her to stay the fuck away from me. I hate myself. I... I hate myself." Harlan repeated as the epiphany rolled through.

For years, Harlan had placed blame on everyone except himself. He couldn't fully love Liana until he loved himself. Harlan didn't care about himself—whether he lived or died. He did whatever the hell he felt like doing. But when Liana had come into his life, he had tried to change for her. Harlan was beginning to realize that he had to change for himself.

But Harlan wasn't ready to do that. He wanted to wallow in self pity for as long as possible. He didn't want to get better because he had no one to get better for—he hated himself too much to want to change for himself. He was too far gone.

"What's she like in bed? I imagine her just kinda laying there." Laura laughed, flicking the barrel of the syringe.

"Oh, she's beautiful. She moves with me, she... why the fuck am I tellin' you this?" Harlan laughed.

"Because you want to. It's probably all you think about when you look at her." Laura giggled, pulling Harlan's jacket into her lap.

"Kinda." Harlan smiled. "I see my future in her. But... whatever." He shrugged limply.

"You ready to forget about it?"

"Wish it was permanent." Harlan looked lazily to Laura, swallowing hard at the sight of the needle. "Lee's gonna kill me." Harlan mumbled.

"What Lee don't know, won't hurt her." Laura winked, sliding an elastic hair tie up the length of Harlan's arm. It barely went to the bend of his arm, taking Harlan's hand in hers, forcing him to make a fist. She tapped the vein trailing down his forearm from the bend of his arm, causing his blue vessel to rise beneath his skin. "Just relax." Laura kissed Harlan's cheek, holding his arm down as she inserted the needle.

The cloudy substance mixed with blood—Laura had gotten his vein on the first try. She pushed her thumb on the plunger, slowly releasing the liquid into his bloodstream.

He felt it—the warmth of nothingness to his despair. He felt complete. Everything Harlan lacked, he was suddenly compensated for.

He was born again; a renewal of life, that familiar feeling he had felt five years ago in that back bedroom of that girl's house. Peace—euphoria. He was coming inside to feel warmth after being left out in the cold. Everything was okay—everything was fine. His body feeling like static on a television set.

He saw her—Liana's face.

She was smiling at him. Harlan saw himself hovering above her, feeling her skin against him as she smiled with love in her eyes, her hands running through his hair.

***

"Harlan?... Harlan?" Laura repeated. She had never seen someone become limp so quickly. Twenty minutes had passed and Harlan was still unconscious. Falling asleep typically happened a little ways through the high, not immediately. She pressed her fingers to his neck, feeling that his pulse was barely there. His breathing had slowed alarmingly—this wasn't good.

"Oh god, oh my god- Harlan!" Laura yelled, gently smacking his cheek. Harlan didn't flinch—his faltered body simply slumped down the wall and into the floor.

Laura panicked. She didn't think she had given him that much—she had thought he took as much as she would have. Harlan's words rang in her mind, "I don't do that shit." And "I don't know what you think of me, but it's a misconception." Laura thought he was being coy about it, she didn't know Harlan was telling the truth.

Laura got to her feet, running out of the bathroom down the hall. She raced toward the staircase, barreling out the door back to the neon party. She thought about telling Mark and Kyle first, but there was no way she could find them in time.

Liana was her best bet at seeking help; she knew where she was. She wouldn't be wasting time trying to find Mark or Kyle.