Mercury

Twenty Six

UNEDITED
DRUG USE

Dean stares at the bag of cash in the passenger seat of his car. He couldn't believe he had managed to score this much loot, across the weeks he had gotten at least 900k and that was enough for him to make something out of it. He could feel the itch in his veins as he profusely rubbed his arm- there was always one thing he spent money on. Shutting his eyes he slumps down in his drivers seat and slams his fist against the top of the wheel. 

But he didn't do this for that, he earnt this money so he could start a better life. He had thought about it a lot, getting a proper job and living in a nice house and...and that was it. Selfishly, he didn't want kids, nor did he want marriage. There was no reason for him to invest himself into things that don't matter. His phone vibrates against the gear shift and opening his eyes he sees his mother calling. Sometimes he forgot he had a mother, he had isolated the idea of it for years to even grasp onto what that feeling of nuture and love was like. Sighing heavily he accepts the call whilst putting it on speaker.

"Dean?" He hears her breath and can picture her frowning at the phone, he wasn't sure how old she was now. Maybe today was even her birthday, but Dean was not allowed to be a part of her life nor was she to be a part of his. "Dean... Tomorrow is the anniversary of...well- you know. I need you to be there." 

Dean's mother, unnlike him- lacked control over situations, over emotions, over anything. He wished she would be honest with how she felt about him, he knows he hates her- why would she love the person who took happiness from her. "I pray for the best for you then..." He mumbles hastily, his voice cracked slightly as an unknown emotion swirled through his chest. "You're not religious Dean... Maybe we need to have this talk in person. I can give you some money and you can fly over and...and we can talk Dean. Abou-"

"Five grand." He cuts her off sitting up straight in his seat and turning the ignition on. Glancing into the rearview mirror he narrows his eyes seeing the black subaru that had been following him for the past day. Fumbling his hand in his pocket he pulls out a slightly bent cigarette, "fuck..." he mumbles to himself as he straightens it out before lighting it. "Okay darling, fiv-",

"don't fucking call me that." He bites out changing the gears and driving to the only place he knew would numb all of his emotions into the void. "I hate when you call me that Liz. You don't get to do that anymore alright?" He hears her sigh heavily through the speaker as he glances in his rearview mirror to see the subaru begin to start up the car in the distance. Taking a sharp left he hits the accelerator drowning out his mothers voice and seeming to lose the black car. Pulling up in front of a old townhouse he stops at the curb before swiftly taking off his seatbelt and reaching his hand into the money bag before pulling out five hundred quid. 

"-tomorrow catch the flight please?"
"-yeah yeah saturday-"
"-no Dean, friday...Tomorrow."

He steps out of the car slamming the door shut holding his phone in his hand and approaching the front door. Ending the call he slides his phone into his back pocket and knocking on the front door. The door opens swiftly revealing his friend Jason who stands there eyes redder than mars with a lighter in his hand. "I've been expecting you man", Dean smiles at his friend as he's welcomed into the familiar corridor. The house was dimly lit as Jason rambled on about how soft light and substances extends the high. "It's psychological honest." Dean flops himself onto the couch, he liked coming to Jason's. His friend got pathetically high by himself but that meant there was no one there that would piss him off. 

Placing down a fifty he fills up a cone before lifting up the homemade bong. Narrowing his eyes at the purple liquid filling the bottle he raises a dark brow at his friend, "it's lean, intensifies it man." Dean knew the dangers of mixing substances, but as he raised the bottle to his mouth and flicked the lighter he realised danger was what made him him. INhaling as the liquid bubbles he inhales sharply. He could feel it burning his insides, he hoped it was burning him. He knew he wasn't fireproof but he wasn't scared to get burnt-he's not scared of death. Exhaling he puts his hand out to capture the pills his friend drops in his hand before quickly swallowing them. 

He was numb and all previous emotions were in the voide, his head cloudy and mouth turning up into a lazy smile. He rose the bottle to his mouth and repeated the previous action once, twice, three times. Needing to use the bathroom he rose from the couch and made his way to the bathroom sliding in. His skin felt hot and his forehead was sweaty, turning on the shower to cold he removes his shoes and steps into the shower. The water icy cold like thorns pricked and coated his skin, but sickenly he likes the pain. He was so used to pain, ice cold drug headed monster. He thought about what his mother said, about what his mother wanted. But he refused to give her the joy and satisfication of bringing him home, for if she really wanted and loved him- she would never have let such a chaotic boy leave.

The boys shoulders began to shake as he recalled the bullet being welcomed into his fathers chest, it coated his mothers favourite leather couch. The couch they would sit on with the fire in front of them, his mother holding his hand sobbing softly into the shoulder os his eight year old self. He had tried to do the right thing, he was always trying to do the right thing. He let out a sob as his shoulders shook and he leant his head against the shower wall. His knees buckling as he falls onto the shower floor, he braces himself on his hands and knees struggling to get up. The walls around him were spinning and the cold water began to feel like flames on his skin. As this boy sobbed about his past and the demons began coming out from the dark,

he's reminded that he is not fireproof.