I come out of the bathroom fully clothed, my phone's still ringing. This time, though, it's a different ring tone and I hurry to answer it.
"Connor?" I breathe out. I can hear voices and music in the background.
"Why aren't you here, where are you?" Connor's voice is harsh and yet, somehow soft. Like a caress on a bruise. "You should've told me if you wanted me to pick you up. Everybody's already here and some girls asked for you."
"No, no," I shake my head and sit on my bed. I look at the full-length mirror, would he like it if I wear this? It's nothing fancy, just ripped jeans and a t-shirt. My hair's still wet and I have no intention of doing anything to it. I'm sure he'll be disappointed, he likes it straightened. "I just— I took a nap after I got home. I'll be there in a bit, though."
"Sleepyhead." His laugh comes out natural and carefree as if there's nothing in the world that bothers or affects him. "Don't be lazy, and hurry. Give me a call when you're ready so I can get you an Uber."
I hum in response. After telling me that he loves me, he hangs up. I'm instantly hit with waves of overwhelming feelings that I can't begin to describe. All I know is that everything in me feels heavy, my body, my chest, my hair, my eyelids, everything feels heavy.
It's sadness.
I think.
But then again, I could just be bored.
It's a weird feeling. It weighs you down and makes your chest heavy with... something... something ugly and it makes me want to be sick.
I hate feeling like this. I hate it so much that I do what I can to avoid it.
I close the door, even though I know nobody's home. Mami's at work until at least 2 am. I reach under the desk and I can feel it, the little plastic bag I keep hidden.
There're only two pills left and for a moment I'm so anxious I feel like crying. Certain opioids aren't easily found and they aren't cheap either. It's not like I'm a drug addict or anything but co-codeine does nothing for me and from time to time, I need something to make everything hurt less.
I take one pill out the bag and reach for a trophy I got when I was 13 during sports day. It's heavy so it'll do the job. It has my name on it, written in big letters, Mia Saint-Cruz. They misspelt my last name and when I complained about it they said they couldn't rewrite the plaque. Santacruz, how difficult could that be?
I lay the pill on my English book and crush it with the trophy until it's nothing but powder. I grab my student ID from the mess in my desk and I draw my first line. Not too much, just enough.
The first time I put shit up my nose, it was unpleasant at first. The burning sensation lingered even after hours of having done it. I kept feeling like there was something up my nose. I don't like it but it hits quicker if you snort it. And once it hits? Nothing, absolutely nothing matters.
I draw another line with what's left of the powder and I snort it quickly, afraid someone might knock down my door and catch me.
I take my phone out and send a message to Connor. He reads it but doesn't reply so I guess I'll just wait for the Uber. Connor doesn't like my neighbourhood, nor does he like it when I take buses if it's dark out. He says there are lots of creepers out there. I wait for the Uber inside my building, covered by my jacket and with enough makeup on that no one can see my eye bags or the bruises on my neck. I wait and I wait until seven minutes later, a car pulls up and I get in.
The ride takes about forty minutes and as we go, I can see the change in the scenery. I've always liked coming down these ends. Kingston has the nicest houses in South London; they're huge and so beautiful.
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Maddie's Girls
Teen FictionEver since her parents death, Asha has been living her life hiding away. She has managed to keep herself clear from every single teenage drama her whole life, she was even proud of it... that is of course until one day, Maddison Fraser, a girl she o...
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