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"BECAUSE YOU FUCKED MY ASS, BROCK!" I rage at him, and he takes a step back.
"So, what? You decide to send a friend over to fuck me up, all because you couldn't just say no?" His face is twisted up.
"You know better…you know my feelings about sex, and you continue to push your luck. I was tired of fighting you about it!" I exclaim, disbelief evident in my tone. "As for the other, I never sent anyone over to fuck you up."
"Could have fooled me because they distinctly said,'This is for Ryan.'"
I'm baffled by what Brock tells me, "I swear, I didn't send anyone over. I passed out at the park and woke up in my bed."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't fucking matter. I think it's best if we don't see each other for a while," he states.
"That's fine by me. That was another reason I was coming over. What you did last night will take a while to get over, Brock. You hurt me, but I guess it doesn't matter now." I turn and walk away before he notices the tears threatening to fall.
I don't bother looking back after I hear the door slam closed. I close my eyes, thinking of how I just lost my one and only friend. Not only that, but he gave me all my fixes. He was safe, and now I will have to go to the dealer myself when I need a fix, and I know how dangerous that will be.
I'm fucking pathetic. I just discovered that some stranger took me home, and I'm more worried about my next fix! I curse myself out as I open my car door and get in. I take a moment to let the tears fall, then wipe them away.You're so fucked, Ryan.
Six
It's been two days since I had a fix. I try to keep myself busy, but the shakes are getting pretty bad, and I've practically eaten everything in our house. I thought I would try and quit, but I don't have the willpower. Not when I have nobody in my corner to help.
"Fuck this," I say and grab my car keys, wallet, and phone.
As I leave the house, I text the only other person I know who sells my kind ofcandy, then head to the ATM to withdraw some money. I'll be damned if I suck Manny's dick. That guy has fucked more STD-infested skanks than I can count. No, thank you.
Since I never go anywhere, I still have most of my money from working as a waitress for two years. This past year, I've concentrated more on my schoolwork than worrying about working. My dad had set up a trust fund for me when I was a baby, so college is already paid for. Now, I need to do my part to make sure I get to go to college. I really don't want to be a waste of space, and I really want out of this fucking town.
It's not that this town is a small Podunk town, but after the last three years, I don't want to live in a town where there's a good chance I will run into my former classmates. Maybe when I get the opportunity to start fresh, I can kick my bad habits and actually start living. I can reinvent myself in a new town and school and be anybody I want.
I smile at the thought as I go through the bank's drive-thru ATM and withdraw enough for about eight pills. Hopefully, by the time I run out, Brock and I will be good, but I honestly haven't even thought about what he did to me. If that's the case, does that mean I'm not as mad at him as I thought? I mean, it was fucked up what he did, and yes, it hurt, but it's not like he dismissed my values altogether and took my V-card.
Fuck, Ryan! Your way of thinking is so messed up!
I pull up to the rundown house on the east side of town. Looking around as I get out of my Camry, I lock the doors and take the steps two at a time before knocking on a door that looks like it may fall off the hinges if I breathe on it. I can smell the skunky stench of weed while waiting for someone to answer. It's one of the reasons why I refuse to smoke it. Indulging in the gummies every once in a while, is fine, but I never smoke the shit.
The door swings open, and what must be Manny's skank of the week answers the door. She stares me up and down while cocking her hip and placing her hand on it, attitude oozing from her. "Um, can I help you?"
"Is Manny here? I texted him, so he knew I was coming," I inform her.
Suddenly, her neck does this weird back and forth nod, and she steps forward, wagging her finger at me. "I don't know who you think you are, but you best lose my man's number. He doesn't need a little slut when he has a fine woman like me!" Her alcohol-laden breath could possibly knock me out before her fist does.
I look her up and down and almost laugh, but I think better of it. I'm tired of standing here, so I roll my eyes. "I don't want your man. I'm here for business." I lift my brow, and she scrutinizes me.
"MANNY!"
I jump when she yells, not expecting it. Her eyes remain on me the whole time. She calls out two more times before I hear Manny cussing from another room. "You better quit that hollering, Tracey! I was on the fucking phone!"
Manny comes around the corner, looking as disgusting as ever, and I smile at him, just to piss off this skank who, by the way, is still staring at me. "Hey, Manny, long time no see."
"Damn, Ryan. How long has it been?" the dealer asks.
"Just over a year," I remind him.
"I was surprised to get your text. Brock is the one who usually texts me." He shoves the woman out of the way and steps to the side, letting me in.
"Brock and I had a falling out. We just needed some space, but I'll need a fix until he gets his head out of his ass and apologizes."
"Damn, you women always expect us men to do the apologizing." He shakes his head grinning.
