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I glanced at it, noting the little sandwich baggie of white powder. Fully dressed, I swiped it and shoved it into my pocket, flitting my eyes to the man. “Thanks for reminding me.” My tone was dry and unbothered, even as he sputtered curses and tried to climb off the mattress after me. I headed for the door, shrugging on my jacket, then pulled the door open, flooding the room with light and sound. Cringing, I peered back over my shoulder. “Oh, and thanks for the dick. I really needed that.”
The last thing I saw before slamming the door behind me was his bewildered, passably handsome face that I’d forget the moment I left this disgusting, run-down bar.
* * *
The cool nightair whipped my pale hair around my face as I hurried down the street with my hands securely in my jacket pockets. I only lived a few blocks from the biker bar and club scene, so I’d stupidly decided to walk tonight.
My regret was stark as I stumbled into a bush, trying to catch my balance but failing, and toppled over into someone’s front yard like a fucking idiot. I sincerely hoped nobody was watching this spectacle. On the bright side, at least I was in jeans and not some skimpy dress that would ride up and show my ass. That was just what I needed tonight—a ticket for indecent exposure.
I fought back a wave of nausea and rolled onto my back in the scratchy bush, staring up at the starry night sky. The world swam around me, and I was sure I was about to throw up, bile creeping up my throat and everything. Ughh, I hated throwing up.
The whispers in my head grew louder, as if the trees, the stars, and the grass beneath me were gossiping. They told me how much of a coward I was, how much of a fucking failure I’d turned out to be.
“Get the fuck out of my head!” I shouted at nothing at all. It was in my mind, I was aware of that, but it didn’t make the whispers any less annoying.
I tried to sit up, grappling with the branches of the bush I’d fallen in. It took a few minutes of cursing and trying not to gag to stumble to my feet again. I managed it, but barely. It would take a miracle to get home in one piece. Maybe I should have waited until I got home to shoot up. It was just hard to say no when it was being offered for free. Heroin wasn't something I used all the time. I didn't like the way it made me feel when I came down from a high, but sometimes, when things got really bad, I would cave. Tomorrow was going to suck, and I was already dreading it.
I walked for what felt like hours, when in reality, it couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes before I was stumbling into my shitty apartment and kicking the door shut behind me. The first thing I did was strip all of my clothes off and head for the shower, turning the water up as hot as I could stand it without burning my skin off. Actually, that might have been preferable than smelling that guy’s cum all over me.
He wasn't the only one I’d fucked tonight. Before I stumbled into that room, I'd already gotten railed in the dirty bar bathroom by some guy named Buck. He had a huge dick though, so I couldn't say I regretted it.
Still, I was going to be sore in the morning, on top of hungover. This was my life now. How fucking proud my parents would be…
I spent the next hour sitting on the shower floor with a razor blade to my wrist, contemplating if this would finally be the night. My skin was decorated in a mural of slashing scars that I never bothered to cover up or hide, but at least they matched the deeper one that slashed across my once pretty face.
Every time I looked in the mirror, I was reminded of the worst night of my life, so I avoided it as much as possible. Instead, I added more scars to the ever growing collection. It was a morbid mural, but I'd earned them all.
I stared at the water dripping over the raised scar tissue, imagining it turning red, my life force swirling down the drain with the rest of my future. I could have done it a thousand different times, and yet here I was…a fucking coward, just like the whispers said. Still, the razor dragged across my wrist, splitting the skin and leaving a burning ecstasy in its wake. I groaned in pleasure, letting my head fall back against the tile wall. Fire raced up my arm as every single one of my nerve endings lit up at once.
But the pain no longer felt like pain anymore. In fact, I needed it, craved it even. Without it, I was nothing, just a shell of a person who couldn’t feel a thing unless I was getting fucked or making myself bleed. Even the drugs were starting to lose their bite these days.
Watching my blood trickle down my arm had me remembering, always fucking remembering, the way my sister’s screams had echoed down the hallway that night, how my name on her lips sounded so strangled. I heard her voice in my head as crisply as if she’d been standing next to me. The metallic scent was familiar, so familiar, that I could taste it in my mouth, feel it squelch under my bare feet, as if I were still running for my life down that staircase, heavy boot steps echoing behind me as he got closer.
My mother’s lifeless brown eyes stared at me as she swung from the banister, while a steady drip, drip, drip of blood dropped from her body to pool beneath her on the wooden floorboards. Somewhere in the distance, my father was screaming…
My phone rang and rang, mixing with my father’s screams as I woke up, still sitting on the floor of my shower. The water had long gone cold, and my blood had stopped flowing. Shame.
It rang again and again, and I cursed while grappling at the wall to hoist myself off the ground, cringing at the aching twinge in my back and neck. The phone vibrated on the top of my closed toilet seat lid, and I grabbed it before it went to voicemail again.
“What the fuck do you want?” My voice was gravelly and felt like I’d chewed on cotton all night.
“Iris Cooper?” the voice on the other end asked. I didn’t recognize it. Pulling the phone away, I stared at the screen. An unknown number.
“Look, lady, I don’t want whatever you’re selling, so fuck off.” Hanging up as she started to speak, I got out of the shower finally and hobbled out into the hall to my room.
The phone rang again.
“Listen, I’m not interested, so stop—”
“Iris Cooper, this is Ashley L Morris from Morris & Bradley,” she said, cutting me off before I had the chance to hang up again. “If I could just have a moment of your time? I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.” Her tone was stern but not unkind, and I did, in fact, recognize the name.
Morris & Bradley was the law firm my parents had hired back home to handle their affairs. My stomach sank into a dark, swirling pit. What the hell did she want with me?
“I’m not interested in the money, Ashley. I told your partner before, and I really don’t like repeating myself.” Truth be told, the money could have really come in handy these past ten years, but I just couldn’t use it. That shit was cursed.
“Miss Cooper, I’ve been made aware of your requests, however, we have received news that your aunt Sara passed this last Tuesday.”
A bitter taste flooded my mouth. I hadn’t seen Sara since the…incident, but I knew she’d been suffering from some kind of cancer for the better part of a decade.
