Page 45 of Inevitable Destruction

DOMINIK

“right here”—Lil Peep, Horse Head

The peculiar tasteof cum still lingers on my tongue and in the back of my throat—just like he said it would—bitter and salty, but I chase it away with a much better, chalky flavor and the burning of vodka as I down a shot.

My legs are a trembling mess. I know my eyes are bloodshot if the way they burn is any indication. My knees ache from digging into the shitty carpet, and my throat feels raw and ripped open.

My mind is in a daze, clouded with confusion, relief, and denial. Part of me is glad for the pills burning a hole in my now cum covered sweatpants, but another part; the sober, rational part who I rarely give a voice to, is screaming at me.

I ignore both and toss back another shot before I leave. There are by far too many people, and I can’t fucking stand it. My skin is crawling. I feel disgusting, used, and pathetic.

Never in my life did I think I would ever stoop so low as to suck a dude’s dick for some fucking pills.

But I did it. I guess that’s who I am now. Because now that I have some liquor in me and I’m starting to feel the faintest effects of the pills, I find myself not caring.

It wasn’t so bad. His dick was smooth against my tongue, hot and hard, and cum is an acquired taste, but not necessarily bad. My dick wasn’t exactly hard from sucking his dick, but it wasn’t soft either. Maybe it was more the animalistic noises coming from his mouth, but it made my blood surge in my veins.

I stumble out of the house and out into the rainy night. The clouds cover the sky in a dark, thick blanket, blocking all chances of moonlight escaping. I would shiver if I could actually feel the cold, but I’m blissfully warm and tingly.

As a matter of fact, nothing seems bad at all anymore. What was I even bitching about?

I shake my head at myself and run the back of my hand under my nose to wipe away the snot draining. Wrapping my hands around middle and hunching over, I start the walk home. Or at least, I think that’s the direction I’m heading, but I can’t be sure. Home is a ways’ away, so maybe I’m not going there.

I just want to get away.

* * *

Rain pelts my face,but I can’t feel it. The only reason I know is because I have to blink to clear the water from my eyes.

I drag my eyes from my white sneakers to the long, winding road in front of me. The pavement glistens in the cloud-covered moonlight, barely illuminating my way home—or wherever it is I’m going.

My body is moving on autopilot with every shift of my legs as I take step after step. I’m numb from head to toe from either the pills, the vodka, or the fucking cold surrounding my thinly clothed body. It could be any of those singular things or all three combined, but the one thing I do know is I’m blissfully ignorant to it all.

I’m starting to slow though, my feet dragging against the pavement as my limbs grow heavier. I’m so laden and so weightless at the same time. It’s an impossible explanation, but it’s exactly how I feel.

I’m without a care in the world.

I don’t care that I sucked a man’s dick who hates me for the pills coursing through my system. I don’t care that I hate myself for it because what’s the point in that? I know I’m going to do it again if I have to—and I will. I don’t care that I should hate what I did more, because frankly, it could’ve been worse.

A rock knocks me off balance when I step on it wrong, and I come crashing down to earth as my legs buckle. My hands dart out to catch my fall, but because my body is so numb, my arms fold in on themselves like cooked noodles, and my face smacks against the wet, gravely pavement.

Stars burst in front of my eyes, flashing brightly. With every deep inhale, it feels like I’m sucking gravel into my lungs, so I lean my body to the side and roll onto my back. My eyes flicker up to the black sky above.

There’s nothing there, just an endless black void. And as I stare into the void of darkness, I find myself feeling envious of something inanimate.

What I would give to be a void—to just be absolutely nothing. To not feel, live, or even fucking breathe…

A flash of lightning strikes above, brightening the sky in a long, jagged stretch of intense electric radiance before disappearing. A loud clap of thunder soon follows, along with more rain. I watch it all, utterly rapt, as the sky wars with itself.

More lightning, deeper, more rumbling thunder. Sheets of rain drenching the earth below. It’s a magnificent thing to witness unobscured.

After some amount of time—I can’t even be sure of how long because in this moment, time ceases to exist—I somehow manage to push myself to my hands and knees to crawl across the road to the tree-lined ditch. I trudge through the soppy mud until I reach a tree trunk where I collapse. My back hits the bark along with my head, and I decide right here and now, this is a fabulous place to stay.

I’m surrounded by the comfort of the storm, the pure, undiluted chaos of it, and I feel right at home.

The rain is cool and biting, but under the shelter of trees, I’m mostly protected from its onslaught. I dig into my pocket and pull out the pills Rhett gave me for sucking him off. A very vivid mental picture of his dick flashes through my mind, and I swallow the bitter reminder of why I even have these to begin with.

What did I do to deserve this? To be brought so fucking low I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get fucking drugs?

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