Page 7 of Through The Woods

Chapter Two

July…Age 22

“Will Clint be in a good mood when he comes home tonight?” I whispered the words as I shook the black orb in my hand.

‘Don’t count on it’ appeared within the blue triangle and I let out a small sigh of disappointment.

So much for a peaceful evening.

Maybe relying on a Magic 8 ball to solve my problems wasn’t the best use of my time, but I had nowhere else to be. I’d become what my parents had feared most—an unemployed nobody, shacked up with her loser boyfriend.

I certainly never saw it working out like that.

“You either need to buy something or leave.” The store owner glared at me from the other side of the counter and I immediately felt guilty—as if I’d been doing something wrong.

“I was just browsing—” I said calmly before he interrupted.

“I know what you’re doing—you’re either casing the place or looking to shoplift. I don’t tolerate either; so get out.”

I opened my mouth to protest when he pointed to the sign hanging on the door.

‘We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.’

I tossed my purse over my shoulder and held my head high as I walked out. I guess novelty stores were cracking down on the types of customers they allowed.

The bell chimed over the door as it swung shut behind me and I turned around with a smirk, middle finger in the air. That smirk faded the minute I caught my reflection in the glass.

Is that what I looked like?

No wonder he threw me out.

My hair hung in unwashed clumps around my shoulders. My eyes were sunken in, cheeks concave. A fading yellow bruise was the only color on my ghost white skin.

I lowered my hand and turned away. I couldn’t bear to stare at myself any longer. It was like staring at a stranger. The shopping center was almost empty, save for a handful of cars. Everyone was off enjoying their fourth of July weekend. I bet the Res was packed.

The Boulder Reservoir was a popular hangout spot and this weekend would be no different. In another life, I would’ve been out there with friends.

A lone desk chair rolled aimlessly across the parking lot as the breeze caught it and I found myself mesmerized by the sight of it.

How had something like that ended up here?

It was a great metaphor for my life. That chair and I had a lot in common. I should’ve graduated a couple of months ago. Instead, I was here, watching my life roll past. Looking back on it, I should’ve never allowed Paul to drag me upstairs. I should’ve thrown my beer in his face and run as far away as possible.

I’d snorted another line before I left Clint that night, with promises to meet up the next day. As I’d taken the bus back to my dorm, I’d decided that I would continue seeing him, but only use if I had a lot of studying to get done.

Unfortunately, I found that after a couple of lines, I could stay up all night. I wasn’t hungry when I was using either, so my fears of gaining the ‘freshman fifteen’ were alleviated as well. My grades improved a lot—since I didn’t require sleep, nothing could stop me.

What goes up must come down though.

I’d convinced myself that because Clint had personal feelings for me, he’d never let me get addicted. I had this crazy idea that he somehow had my best interests at heart.

I was wrong.

The man who started out being perfect, slowly became something else. In the beginning, he took me to the nicest restaurants in Denver and bought me gifts just because. By the time I realized that things weren’t as they seemed, I was caught in a downward spiral. I began skipping classes in favor of getting high and having sex with him. I craved the pleasure I got from it—coke alone wasn’t enough. I needed Clint just as badly.

I was beyond addicted to cocaine and him, while he’d broken his own rule and gotten hooked on cocaine and H.

Clint was no longer Clint.

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