"This fucking girl, bro," Arion cursed, pushing through crowds of people. The house was small—cramped and jam packed with people. It was almost eleven P.M. on a Wednesday night when Arion had gotten the call from Khadijah's mother.
"She's gone out again. I'm worried about her. Could you bring her home? Please, Arion?"
Life had changed drastically in the span of a few months. Khadijah took a hit of the blunt that was being passed around the room. She lounged on the lap of some other guy, who wrapped one arm around her waist loosely. She could barely keep her eyes open, just giggled at every word he whispered into her ear.
She knew what she was doing.
Khadijah knew the severity of her situation—of her loose inhibitions—she just couldn't find it in herself to care.
She wanted to feel something. After months of living life in limbo, on edge, Khadijah wanted to feel something.
The alcohol and weed just made her feel good.
She didn't want to think about her mother waiting at home or her father, who she'd been forced to bury when she wasn't ready.
Khadijah wanted to be selfish, which is why when the door to the stranger's bedroom slammed open and Arion's frame was lit loosely by the light out in the hallway, she let out a loud groan.
"Khadijah, get the fuck up, right now," Arion said through gritted teeth, stalking forward into the room. From what Khadijah can make out through her hazy eyes, he's wearing grey sweatpants, dirty sneakers, and a crumpled white shirt—clearly, he'd come here in a rush. Maybe some other time, she'd melt and feel a little impressed, but now—now, she only rolled her eyes, her head lolling against the mystery guy's shoulder.
"No." she murmured.
Arion exhaled slowly, face twisted up in a way that read pain and something else Khadijah couldn't really place. Khadijah's eyes fluttered shut and there was a minute of pause before a gunshot rang out, causing her to yelp in surprise. The guy she was sitting on pushed her off his lap, scrambling out the door with everyone else. Screams and yells surrounded her as Khadijah winced in pain, landing directly on her ass, Arion loomed over her, tucking his knock back into the waistband of his sweatpants, looking exasperated and annoyed.
"Arion, you crazy as hell," Khadijah shook her head, slurring her words a bit.
"You make me crazy, Jah," Arion sighed, kneeling down to her level, "this is—what? The fourth time this week?"
She turned her head away from him, legs curling up as she pursed her lips. Arion wasn't having it though, hand moving to grip her chin, forcing her head to turn back to him.
"Stop doing this to 'yaself," Arion whispered, eyes flickering across her face, "this isn't you."
Khadijah stared at him blankly, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
"Okay, like, just take me home, bro." She said.
Arion's eyes hardened slightly, and he moved swiftly, pulling Khadijah into his arms. He rose to his feet, walking out of the now empty house without any issues. Khadijah's head rested on his shoulder, eyes falling shut then jolting open with every movement that jostled her body.
"Yo, she smell like shit, bro," Kevin's voice grumbled, and Khadijah tilted her head slightly to see him leaning against the side of his mom's sedan.
"Thanks, Kev," Khadijah mumbled as Kevin opened the car door, letting Arion manoeuvre her into car.
"Just bein' honest," Kevin shrugged, backing off and rounding the car to the driver's seat as Arion pushed her body gently, climbing in next to her, "you have fun?"
"Lots of fun," Khadijah corrected him, hearing Kevin start the car. Her vision was foggy and her brain a little clouded as Kevin and Arion started talking amongst themselves, their voices not quite registering in her brain. She leaned herself against the car door, forehead pressed against the window. The car was moving in slow motion—at least, to her—the moment Arion moved to help her out of the car, she didn't even realize they'd arrived at her building.
"Arion, I don't feel so good," Khadijah heard herself mumbling as she stumbled out of the car. Her stomach was in knots—coiling inside of her uncomfortably.
"She's gonna throw up, Doug." Kevin warned.
"It's okay, mama, hold on, we goin' upstairs now," Arion said to her, hoisting her back up into his arms, "you coming, Kay?"
"Nah, my mom—she's—"
"It's fine," Arion spoke, voice rumbling from above her, "safety."
She didn't know when—or how—she'd gotten back up into her apartment. Barely saw her mother as she stumbled past, being hurried into the bathroom. The nausea was sitting in the pits of her stomach, causing her to whine and groan as she hovered over the toilet bowl.
"She might have alcohol poisoning."
"What do we do?"
"We have to make her throw up."
"What?"
"Stick your fingers down her throat until she gags—it's—she needs to throw up, Arion."
"I-I can't—"
"I-I know, but we need too—she has to throw up."
The voices muddled together, and the next thing Khadijah felt was something being lodged into her throat, causing her to choke—to gag. She felt her mother's small hands rubbing her back as Arion coaxed her into throwing up.
"I'm sorry, mama, I'm so sorry," Arion whispered, mouth next to her ear as she retched over the toilet, "I'm sorry, mama, you're doing good."
Tears pricked at the corner of Khadijah's eyes as she vomited liquid into the toilet bowl. She heaved heavily, and her mother flushed the toilet once she was done, ready with a face towel to wipe her mouth. She didn't when she'd started sobbing or why as her mother wiped her mouth—all she knew is that she didn't feel so good anymore. The once spinning room that had been entertaining to her in the troughs of smoke and Hennessy had become disorientating. Her head was hurting.
Her heart hurt even more.
"Waa caadi jacaylkayga, caadi baad tahay (it's okay my love, you're okay)," her mother soothed her, carressing her cheek, thumb wiping away her tears, "waa caadi inaad dareento luminta mararka qaarkood, halkan ayaan kuu joognaa. Had iyo jeer (it's okay to feel lost sometimes, we are here for you. Always)."
As Khadijah's eyes struggled to focus on her mother's saddened face, she wished she could be better. She wished she could do better. She didn't know if it was because she didn't know how or if she didn't want to. She tried not to think about it too much as her mother ushered Arion out of the bathroom, helping Khadijah wash her body—get the stench of partying off of her. She felt drowsy as her mother helped her out of the tub, a pair of clean clothes waiting by the door. It was a simple pair of shorts and a pyjama shirt that she'd worn since freshmen year, when things were simpler.
Now everything was different.
"Mahadsanid hooyo (thank you mom)," Khadijah muttered, her mother guiding her by her arm towards her bedroom.
"Get some rest," her mother instructed, ignoring Arion who sat by the open window, smoking a blunt, "Arion, you have five seconds to put that out, or I put you out." Her mother stated sternly as Khadijah crawled into her bed, beneath her sheets.
"I'm sorry, Miss Timera," Arion said quietly, taking one last hit before he pressed the edge of the blunt lightly against the outside of the window, putting it out, "I'm just—stressed out."
"Take it easy," her mother said to him gently, "we'll talk properly in the morning."
Khadijah gazed up at her mother, who smoothed down her hair one more time with her hand, a tentative smile on her face, before she left the room, closing the door behind her gently. Arion remained stationary, just staring out of the window as cars rolled past below them. She half-expected Arion to spark up again, but she knew he wouldn't. Whatever had happened in these last months brought them closer, and Arion was always very respectful to her parents, even when they didn't think highly of him.
"What you stressed about?" Khadijah yawned tiredly, pulling the covers up to her shoulders.
"Jah, this is the fourth party I've pulled you out of this week, bro." Arion stated, unmoving from Khadijah's desk chair. "You drink. You smoke. You do all the shit you never did before. You telling me that's normal? It's not. Your mom called me—woke me up outta my sleep, asking me to find you again. I found you curled up on some random nigga's lap in a room full of people drunk off their ass. You haven't been to school in a minute, I know that because your mom be telling me—I haven't seen you either even when I go like—" Arion sighed, running a hand over his face. "Bro, I'on know. I'on know what to do—how to help you."
She stayed quiet for a few minutes, her brain was still muddy—she couldn't formulate some type of smart ass response even though she wanted too. She didn't know how to be vulnerable with Arion even though she wanted too.
"Just—" Khadijah whined slightly, hiding beneath the blankets, "just come here." She said quietly, closing her eyes for a moment. She heard shuffling and the sound of Arion emptying his pockets on her dresser, she opened one eye—peeking at him as he pulled out his knock from his waistband, opening one of her drawers and shoving it beneath a pile of her shirts. He looked pensive—in his own head, as he walked towards her. He nudged her over gently, sliding into the bed next to her, the mattress dipping under the added weight. She expected him to wrap his arms around her, but he just laid beside her motionless, which irritated her.
Greatly.
She scooted closer, almost laying on top of his chest as Arion inhaled sharply. Wiggling one arm from beneath her blanket, she forced him to cuddle with her—pouting before he finally obliged.
"Shit happens," Khadijah said, secure and safe in Arion's hold, her head was still throbbing and vision blurred, but she had grown used to it. She didn't know when she'd begun going out to parties—drinking—smoking—any of it. She just knew it provided her with a distraction—a temporary feeling of relief. So, she kept doing it. She still saw her father sitting around the apartment—his presence lingering but smoking a blunt helped her ignore it. Taking a shot helped distract her from it. "Shit happens so," she repeated, fingers curled into the fabric of Arion's shirt, "this is me—going through it."
To Khadijah, going through it meant not going to school. Ignoring texts and calls. Picking out a mini skirt and crop top to party in. Living on the edge as she joined random people for a smoke session and maybe a drink or two. She felt good doing it so she kept doing it—she didn't have room nor the capacity to think about everyone's feelings. She only felt her own—cared about her own.
She was selfish.
"You gon' get hurt doing this," he told her, arms tightening around her, "you're gonna get hurt, Khadijah. You don't know these people you hangin' out wit, you get crossfaded and get stuck somewhere, what are you gonna do?" He asked her.
She didn't know how to respond. She didn't know how to tell Arion that if something had happened to her—she'd hoped it would be the end of it.
Maybe at least she could see her father again.
Khadijah blinked and Arion had pushed her off him, sitting up in the bed suddenly.
"You being selfish right now." He said. "You being so fucking selfish right now. You hurting yourself and you don't care about how you're hurting 'ya mom—that pisses me off the most. Khadijah, you're smart as fuck—you know this isn't you—you know this isn't good for you. So why the fuck are you doing it bro? Why are you hurting 'yaself like this? Is this shit fun to you or sumn?"
"You pop percs all the fucking time, Arion, so don't patronize me." Khadijah snapped. She regretted saying it as she watched Arion get off the bed, walking towards her door in fast, purposeful strides. "So, what if I drink a little? If I smoke a blunt or two? What does it fucking matter?"
"Watch 'ya mouth, Khadijah—" Arion warned her, head whipping around to look at her as she, too, sat up in the bed.
She felt cornered like a wounded animal so she got defensive—lashed out because they both knew he was right.
"You're the addict, Arion." She told him. "I smoke and drink like a normal fucking person. I don't pop percocets—like how you popped them at that party earlier this year and we had to drag you out of there because you couldn't stand on your own two feet. Do you remember that? Because I do." Khadijah didn't even know what she was saying. She just knew she wanted her words to hurt.
She knew she'd struck a nerve when Arion's face twitched uncomfortably, a frown tugging on his lips. Compared to Kevin, Arion was an open book with his feelings. Kevin guarded himself—guarded his heart. Arion wore his on his sleeve which is why Khadijah felt her own heart ache at the expression on his face.
She was just hurt and to her muddy brain that meant they both had to hurt.
Khadijah wanted to apologize—say sorry—say something to fix what she'd done but Arion turned the doorknob, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the room and shake some sense into her.
She was alone.
The one thing she didn't want.
✧
im sorry for the late update, i've really been going through it this week mentally but umm, what do you guys think? lowkey, this book is just high-highs and low-lows. personally, death has always been weird to me—in terms of dealing with it and grief manifests differently in everyone. i just feel bad for everyone involved and honestly writing this chapter has been therapeutic for me.
— 𝐂.