Page 60 of Through The Woods

I was damn near salivating at the thought of getting high.

I listened as the men carried Guardrail up to his room and then doors began opening and closing. The sounds of their voices faded, but I waited an extra thirty minutes just to be safe.

I hated myself.

Loathed my need for this drug.

I didn’t understand it—I’d kicked the habit.

I shoved the blankets off my legs in frustration before roughly running my hands over my face. I needed to stay in bed—just close my eyes and get some sleep.

I lasted thirty seconds and then I was up, creeping silently across the carpet in my room. I was just going to look around; not use. I turned the door handle and took two steps into the darkened hallway before falling over a figure in the dark.

“I thought I might get some company if I camped out in the hallway,” the voice whispered to me as I crawled over him and pushed myself up onto my knees.

“Why are you out here, Twitch?”

He offered me his hand and pulled us both up off the floor. “I could ask you the same thing, but I think we both know the answer to that. C’mon.”

He led me downstairs and out toward the back deck before gesturing to an empty chair. “Have a seat.” He started pacing across the deck as if he was arguing with himself, but stopped abruptly and turned back to me. “How bad is it?”

“Truthfully?”

He sighed. “Only way to be, kid.”

I chewed on my lip. “I want to crawl out of my skin. I just want to feel happy again. To not feel anything, but mind-numbing pleasure.”

Twitch nodded, immediately understanding what I meant. “Charm’ll probably have my ass, but I can get you something to take the edge off.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my sweatpants, resisting the urge to bounce my legs in excitement. He stepped back inside long enough to grab a glass pipe before sitting down in the chair across from me. He must’ve noted my wary expression because he held the pipe up toward me. “Hash pipe, kid. Jesus, you think I’d bring crack out here? Charm might be pissed that I’m giving you weed, but he’d have me strung up over crack.”

I watched as he packed the bowl, using the porch light to see. He lit the end of it and took a few puffs before offering it to me.

“I’ve never done this before.”

He nodded. “You prefer a bong or a joint?”

I clarified, “I mean, I’ve never smoked pot before. Like ever.”

Twitch’s eyes widened. “Fuck me. I just assumed with your…history…well, it doesn’t matter.” He showed me how to inhale and we passed the pipe back and forth a few times.

He was right—the marijuana diminished the cravings until I could think clearly again. It was a completely different high than what I’d ever experienced with blow—cocaine left me feeling jittery, but with the weed, I felt relaxed.

Calm.

My mind wasn’t racing with thoughts of the past. I was in control again; quietly existing alongside Twitch. It was nice—just sitting here with him. I felt like we could stay right here forever. We wouldn’t worry about what tomorrow would bring; the two of us would just enjoy the scenic view from the porch.

The fog from the cocaine withdrawals left my system and my brain—not content to remain idle—went right back to focusing on Charm and all the reasons why he kissed me and then took off. I closed my eyes and let the back of my head hit the chair with a small sigh.

New plan—I would sit out here forever until I unraveled the mystery that was Charm, Prez of the Scarred Savages.

“Better?”

I opened one eye and nodded at him. Twitch might’ve only been a few years older than me; it was hard to tell. The parts of his face that weren’t covered in wild facial hair were smooth and clear, indicating youth. His beard was straight out of the nineteenth century, with thick mutton chops connecting into a full beard near his chin. He was underweight, a side effect of his drug use, most likely. It was his eyes that made it impossible to guess; they were hard...aged. As if he’d seen more than one person ever should in life.

I didn’t know how many times he’d fallen off the wagon, but judging by the visible track marks on his arms, it must’ve been a lot. His arms were sleeved in tattoos, but the scars were still visible through the ink. There were several on his wrists that looked a little like slashes.

He surprised me when he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and I brought my eyes back up to his face. His hand lingered near my cheek. “You’re a good person, Neve. I think you’ll make it.”

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