Rachel Dyken - Toxic

I was so damn tired of it all.

Cee-Cee’s eyebrows rose. “So?” She held up the bag and tilted her head.

“I’m gonna pass, but you have fun getting screwed by complete strangers. I’m out.”

“I thought you wanted to party,” she said in a condescending voice as I started walking away.

With a snort I turned back and glared. “Honey, one of my best friends died from a heroin overdose, a family friend bought me drugs when I was thirteen, I lost my virginity to an A list actress twice my age. Believe me when I say, there is absolutely nothing you could do that would shock me, or make me feel anything but dead inside.”

Her mouth snapped closed as her teeth ground together. With a jerk she walked off, her hips swaying as she made her way through the crowds.

I wanted to wake up drunk.

No, scratch that. I wanted to wake up and feel something — anything but the way I felt then — going through the motions, smiling and joking around as if I actually had something to live for.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I looked down at the text.

Mom: If he calls don’t answer. He wants money. Love you. Mom.

“Hello, final straw,” I muttered under my breath as I shoved my phone back in my pocket and walked over to the bar.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked as he mechanically shoved drinks in people’s faces and put tips in the jar in front of him.

“Whiskey.” I sat down and drummed my fingertips against the countertop. “And keep ‘em coming.”

Ten. The number of times I got hit on while getting drunk off my ass.

Three. The number of times a woman brushed up against me and tried to cop a feel.

Two. The number of hours I spent torturing myself with memories of her laugh, her scent, the way she’d always seemed to make me feel like I could do anything in the world.

One. The number of minutes it would have taken for me to run back into the cabin and grab her helmet.

Amazing. How one minute can define the rest of your life.

Yeah, clearly I still wasn’t drunk enough.

I lifted my hand but the bartender shook his head. “You’ve almost downed an entire fifth. I’m cutting you off.”

“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

He didn’t even respond.

I stumbled to my feet and made my way outside. The crisp spring air didn’t sober me up. If anything it made me feel nauseated.

Shit. I’d ridden with Cee-Cee. Cursing, I pulled out my phone and called Lisa.

Her shame was mine.

Our shame was the same.

Our pasts aligned in a way that both disgusted me and endeared us to one another.

She didn’t answer.

I tried Lisa again.

And then desperation set in. I was cold, my buzz was starting to make me sway more on my feet, and a little voice inside me said that if I tried to walk back to campus I’d probably end up in the Sound face down with a belly full of water.

Shit, I was in a dark place.

I dialed Wes’s number.

He answered on the first ring.

“Gabe?”

“I need a ride.” I fought to keep the slur from my voice.

With a heavy sigh he answered, “Where you at?”

“Club by the school, uhh…” I started laughing hysterically. “Shit, I don’t know, why don’t you just ask NASA? You’re the great Wes Michels right? Screw it, I don’t need you.”

I pressed end and stumbled toward the sidewalk and fell on my ass, leaning my head on my knees.

The images kept flashing. First the blood, next the cameras going off and the reporters. God, the reporters. I’d freaked. I’d lost it in front of them.

Minutes went by, maybe an hour, who knew… and then I heard a horn honking and headlights in my face.

I put my hand up to block the light but it didn’t help.

Footsteps neared. I still couldn’t see.

And then a fist came flying for my jaw. I hit the pavement so hard I could have sworn one of my teeth fell out of my mouth.

“Get up, asshole.”

Wes? Did he just punch me in the face? And call me an asshole? I tried to laugh but my jaw hurt too damn bad.

“I said—” Wes grabbed me by my shirt and lifted my limp body off the ground. “Get. The. Hell. Up.” Another punch came, and then thankfully I blacked out.

Maybe if I prayed hard enough — I’d stay there, in the darkness. Maybe then my sins would be atoned for.

The dude was hostile, as if he was pissed that I was even sitting at his table let alone breathing on his plate. What was his problem? I could only imagine that all the piercings had damaged his brain cells — that is, if he was still in full possession of any. —Saylor

Saylor

“So, he’s…” I nodded then briefly looked away so I didn’t appear to interested, or curious, or creepy “Abrasive?” Lisa and I had gone into her bedroom and were sorting out what the schedule would look like for the remainder of the weeks we had to work at the place of our choice for at least sixty hours in order to earn a passing grade.

“That’s Gabe.” She laughed. “I promise he’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” I repeated in a mocking voice. Right, because all those tattoos and piercings matched with those killer eyes really screamed harmless.

Lisa closed her notebook and shrugged. “I swear he’s not as bad as he looks. He’s just… different, that’s all. Kind of had a rough life and all.”

“Please.” I snorted, hoping I didn’t sound like I was fishing for more information.

Lisa’s face fell as if I’d just slapped her.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I don’t mean to be judgmental but, it’s just… life’s hard, you know? It’s what you make it.”

Lisa’s expression turned to something I’d seen my whole life. Pity. She reached for my arm and laid her hand on it. “I get what you’re saying, but, promise me not to make such snap judgments when you don’t even know what he’s going through. He’s protected me my whole life. I’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for me.”

“It’s fine.” I pulled away from her touch. “It’s not like you have to convince me to like him. I mean, for the most part we’ll be doing our work at the Home.” I licked my lips and started collecting my stuff and putting it in my shoulder bag. “And I’m sure you’re right. I’m sorry I said that about him.”

“It’s fine,” Lisa said with a much-too-quick smile and wave of her hand. “So, you’ll take Fridays and I’ll start this Saturday?”

“Sure.” I walked into the living room and looked around for Wes and Kiersten. They’d been watching a movie but must have gone to bed or something.

“Bye, Saylor.” Lisa called.

“Bye,” I said without looking back and opened the door walking out into the hall. I probably shouldn’t have opened my big fat mouth — another one of my bad habits. But where did she get off defending a guy like that? A guy who justified his actions by saying he’d had a rough life?

It pissed me off.

I hated it when people used excuses for their actions as if it was justification for being a complete and total loser.

It was the easy way out. The stupid way out. Which meant only one thing, I needed to stay the heck away from Gabe — he’d be toxic.

The elevator door opened and a guy stepped out. But it was what I saw behind him that made me choke on my breath.

Wes was holding up Gabe.

And Gabe was bleeding all over his shirt. His jaw was turning blue and the smell of whiskey filled the air.

How was it possible that over the last week I’d seen Gabe that much? Swear, he was haunting me, though right now everything about him made me recoil in disgust. He stumbled against Wes again, his words slurring all over the place.

Yeah, real winner there.

Poor me, my life’s so sad and messed up I have to do drugs.

People like him disgusted me. They made me want to yell, scream, kick something.

What right did he have to mess up his life when most of us didn’t even get a shot at a normal life? My throat started closing up as my thoughts went immediately to Eric. Normal was never going to be his reality. I’d kill for him to be able to do things that normal kids his age do, even though in his mind he had absolutely no limitations.

People like Gabe? Spat in the face of opportunity.

With a giant sigh, I got into the elevator and rode it up to the next floor. It was better to get on than have to wait for it to come back down.

“You have a good night?” Wes asked, breaking the silence as if his best friend wasn’t bleeding all over him.

“Yeah, got in a few rumbles, did some drugs, lost my virginity.” I nodded, “Top night. Total blast. I can’t wait to ruin my life again tomorrow.”

Wes grimaced. “It’s not his fault it’s—”

“You know what?” I interrupted. “I don’t care. It’s fine. I don’t even know him. I don’t know you. You guys are strangers to me, okay? Defend him all you want, it’s none of my business anyways. I’m not even a friend. I’m just a person trying to graduate without losing my mind.”

Wes looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he cursed and dragged Gabe out of the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, he whispered, “Just because his way of trying is different — doesn’t make you any better than him.”

I was dead. No. Seriously. I’d puked so much that my body was starting to shut down. I wanted the light damn it! Where the hell was the light in the tunnel? I could have sworn someone said death felt a hell of a lot better than this. —Gabe H.