Page 24 of Inevitable Destruction

DOMINIK

“DRUGS & NICOTINE”—CRIM

“This place is a fucking mess,”I shout over the music pounding through Jay’s Jeep, but I’m not sure he can even hear me even though we’re sitting side by side. He passes me the joint, and I press it between my lips, inhaling the sweet smoke into my lungs with relish. Jay weaves around cars parked along every available space on the road, but luckily, his spot is still open in the driveway of the fraternity house.

It's spring break, and LGU—Le Grande University—always goes hard. Living in a small town means there isn’t much to do other than party and gossip. I prefer the former considering that every time I run into any old bitch in town, they somehow manage to bring up my parents and what they did. Some are sympathetic, others not so much. Either way, I’m known in this town because of what they did.

“What did you expect for spring break, man? It’s always go hard or go home. And none of us wanna go home.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mumble as I hand the joint back to him. The Jeep is filled with dense smoke from hotboxing, and when we pull into the driveway, he cracks his window. I watch as the smoke curls out of the opening and disappears into the night.

“Don’t be such a downer. I don’t think it would kill you to actually have some fun every once in a while.”

I scoff and unclick my seatbelt. The strap zings across my chest and rolls back into place with a snap. “Oh, really? And what do you call this?” I stick my tongue out, flashing the green ball of my piercing. “Not having fun? I don’t even fucking remember getting this, so if that isn’t having fun, I don’t know what is.”

“Okayyy,” Jay laughs which turns into a deep cough as he inhales the last of the joint before flicking it out of the window. “That’s a different story because I vaguely remember that myself.”

“Like I said.”

“Ahh, whatever, man.” Jay scoffs and pushes open the door to his Jeep. The old car groans as he hops out, and I follow, though my movements are more sluggish. The cool spring air whips around us, and I grab my hat to flip it so the bill is in the front so I can pull my hood from my sweatshirt over it.

“Aren’t you hot? I’m burnin’ the fuck up.”

I give Jay a slow blink as we walk up the steps. Lil Peep bumps from the speakers, and my mouth instantly sours when Essa pops into my mind with the lyrics. My fingers dig into the soft flesh of my inner arm, my nails catching on one of the small, nearly invisible scars that have faded substantially over time. A warm heat zaps through my arm, and I yank my hand down, quickly shoving it back in my pocket.

I press my tongue against the fronts of my teeth and suck hard. I can feel the heat working its way through my limbs, slow and meticulous. Tempting. Powerful.

“Dom?”

I bite my tongue until blood coats it. “Yeah?”

“I asked if you wanted a bump?” He nods toward the tray resting next to me on the bed. Three fat, white lines stare up at me, and I swallow the blood pooling on my tongue. The bitter, copper tang travels down my throat with it, and I let out a breath.

Why the fuck not?

I grab the cut off red straw—is this a Wendy’s straw?—he placed next to them and lean down. I snort two in quick succession then toss my head back to let the drip slide down my throat, thick and bitter, and right now? So fucking good.

Once the buzz makes its way into my blood, I sniff the last line and jump to my feet. “Woo!” The shout leaves my lips without my permission, and Jay’s laugh resounds in the room.

“Feelin’ good, dude?”

“For now.”

“That’s all any of us can ask for.”

“Hey, bro. Why the fuck are you selling drugs anyway? Aren’t you a quarterback—and don’t you get drug tested?” My eyes are flying around the room as I take it in like it’s the first time—but I guess when you can’t quit fucking moving, everything feels some level of new: the posters, his bed, the Three Days Grace bumping through his speakers.

“Yes, I am. And yes, I do. The truth is, I have too much riding on me. I never expected to make it this far, and the fact I have says something, I guess. I don’t know, man.” He sighs and spins around, resting back against his tall, brown dresser. “I’m just here to have a good time like everyone else. The place I used to call home was never really a home, and this scholarship was my out—but it comes with conditions. Risky ones.

“If I lose it, I’ll figure something else out. I’ve spent way too fucking long stressing about what came next, so I’m done.” He crosses his arms across his chest, and his gray LGU football T-shirt stretches across his torso. His words say one thing, but his body language says another. Part of me wants to push the truth from him, but a bigger part just doesn’t care to.

“Damn, dude.” I nod and force my gaze to his. His eyes are blood shot, the tiny veins a deep contrast to his shit-brown irises. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything. It is what it is. If your story is anything to go by, you get it.”

Those two fucking words: ‘your story’. As if that’s all I am—merely what my parents did. Their choices became my fucking life, all that I am. I never wanted to be that.

But were you ever really worth more than that?

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