Under the Influence ✔

7.

I need to feel something. Anything really. 

"Why so down, beautiful?"  

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing the tears away before he gets close enough to see them. I can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer, and by the time he's in front of me, my mask is back in place. Happy and smiling Luna is back, while the real Luna is cowering in the corners of her own mind. "Hey." 

The band that checked in to the hotel last night has a lead singer that is none other than, Wes Tucker - the guy I hit with Bran's car door. I haven't talked to Wes since he checked in, and even then all I said was a hello before he was ushered out of the lobby by his manager. 

Wes doesn't say anything about me ignoring his question as he leans against the wall beside me. His shoulder brushes mine and he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering me one as he places one between his lips. "No thanks." 

"Suit yourself." He then pulls out a lighter and I watch as the flame ignites the end of his cigarette and he takes a long drag before turning to me. 

I don't know why I'm still standing here with him, a complete stranger, but I can't make myself move. Maybe it's because of the way he's looking at me, as if he's trying to figure me out, trying to solve the puzzle because he has no idea how many pieces are missing. Maybe it's because he's new, exciting, attractive and paying attention to me. 

Or maybe it's because the sound of his voice washed over me like rain - a slow a steady drizzle in the spring, before the thunder and the lightning came and lit up the sky. His voice, even when he's not singing, holds a melody and I wanted to listen to it a little longer because for once, I could hear something other than my own voice telling me to give up and quit. 

"Are you even listening to me, blondie?" He's looking at me as if I'm a stray he just found on the street and he needs to be cautious. He's looking at me like I'm crazy - which maybe I am. 

"My name is Luna."  

"Like the moon Goddess?"  He asks before taking another drag from his cigarette. 

"That's the one." I kick a small rock that is sitting in front of me and watch as it skips across the pavement and landing in a small patch of dead grass. 

He doesn't say anything for a minute, and from my peripheral I can see him take another puff before blowing smoke into the empty air around us. "So tell me, Luna, why are you out here buying drugs?" 

My heart sank and thumped at the same time. My eyes widen as I look towards him, only to see him looking back at me, just as calm as before, "How did you know I was...were you watching me?" 

"I came to check out the vending machine and heard your little exchange." 

I continue to stare at him, not knowing what to say or do. Part of me wants to run, to remove myself from the situation and go home. Another part of me wants to stay and see what else this boy has to say, because every time he speaks - even when he says things I don't want to hear him say - it calms my mind. 

"Well?"  He asks, raising a brow as he waits for my response. 

"Because I ran out." I answer truthfully, seeing no real reason to lie to him. He doesn't know me, he doesn't know my family. 

At this, he nods his head, accepting my answer for what it is - the sad truth. He drops his cigarette to the ground and steps on it with a worn out Converse, "Blondie, you look like you could use some fun." 

His eyes were different, as if a light had just been turned on inside of him, they were bright and shining with excitement and possibilities. 

He was right, I could use some fun - I could use anything honestly. Anything to keep me distracted and alive for one more day. The look in his eyes, the smile on his face, the sound of his voice - it all should have been a warning sign, it all should have screamed danger - and maybe it did. But danger has always called out to me, like speeding down the interstate at night, I got a rush just by looking into his eyes. 

"You're right." I found myself saying without thinking, and when he smiled, so did I. 

Wes took my hand and started to pull me with him down the corridor and towards the stairs. I knew his room was on the second floor, 204, the one I had assigned him to last night. We took the stairs, hand in hand, and I had no idea what was going to happen once we entered his room, but I was ready for it. 

I was ready for anything, anything that meant I didn't have to go home and down a few pills to sleep. Anything that meant I didn't have to be alone. 

There were three other guys in Wes' room and I noticed them as the other members of the band, they were scattered across the room and all turned to me when we entered. 

"This is Luna, she's going on a trip with us." Wes said to the group, turning to me afterwards with a smirk, and even though I was confused and had no idea what he was talking about, I didn't protest. 

Minutes later, Cole, the drummer handed out small white pieces of paper to everyone. They looked like stickers, the paper so thin thought that I could almost see through it. I was getting more and more confused by the minute, but when Wes turned to me and stuck his on his tongue, I understood. 

He held my gaze as I slowly lifted my index finger to my mouth and placed the white sheet on my tongue. I could feel it dissolving and then later...

I felt it. 

I felt something. 

I didn't feel like I was drowning and struggling to live. 

I felt like I was flying, weightless and free. 

"Luna. Luna, are you okay?" Dr. Taylor's voice is coming from beside me and I have no idea when she got up from her chair and moved to the couch where I'm seated. She's looking at me so intently that it's making me self conscious. 

I reach a hand up to brush my hair out of my face, and that's when I feel the tears that seem to have been falling freely for awhile now. 

"Luna."

"I can't do this anymore." I get up and walk to the door, not looking back as I exit her office and hear her say my name once more. 

I keep my head down as I make my way back to my room, my four walls that have been the only ones to see my cry up until this point. When I get to my room, I see the nurse approaching, and one look at the clock lets me know what she's about to say. 

"No. I don't want to see him." I say, just as she opens her mouth to tell me that Wes is here, that he's waiting for me - again. 

I don't wait for her reply or her sad smile, instead I open my door and then slam it behind me before collapsing on my bed and starting a whole new round of tears.