Page 20 of The Hallows Queen

When I don’t immediately throw up the mouthful of water, I take that as a good sign and down the rest.

Too much too fucking fast, Hayden.

Too much weed, too much alcohol, not enough water and food.

I realize then that the only thing I’ve ingested today is the little slice of cheesecake Logan gave me, and my stomach clenches tight around it like it’s reminding me that I’m a fucking idiot.

I don’t know how long I sit here with the empty glass turning warm in my hand, just watching the club around me. It could be minutes, it could be hours, but by the time I snap back into reality, my weed high is gone, leaving me drunk as fuck and horny.

I test my legs, stretching them out to make sure they haven’t fallen asleep or grown numb, and when my foot hits the underside of the table and pain radiates to my ankle, I smile.

Felt that.

Standing up, I put the empty glass on the table and start walking.

I can’t drink anymore tonight, or else I’ll be puking until the sun rises, and I didn’t bring any weed with me. I hate feeling drunk when I have nothing else in my system, so I head for the storage closet to do some cocaine. That should put me right in the sweet spot I want to be.

There’s a little voice in the back of my head as I slip through the crowd, yelling at me,you’ve had enough, dumb fuck. Go home, get some sleep, fucking eat something.But I shove it away, wanting to feel something different.

The heaviness in my gut has returned, telling me I’m a worthless waste of space, and I need to silence it.

The feelings inside my limbs are unwanted and rejected, and I need to fix them. I need to numb them, burn them, or turn them into pleasure.

Flipping the lights on inside the storage room, I close the door behind me. The little table I’ve claimed as my own sits right where I left it in the corner of the small room, vacant and dusty. I drop down on my knees in front of it, digging around in my pockets and depositing everything onto the tabletop. I open my wallet, sliding out a fifty and rolling it up tight before I put it down.

I pick up the baggie of coke and open it, then I pour half of its contents onto the surface of the table before I toss it aside. Grabbing my wallet again, I slide out my American Express Black Card and start scraping the powder into neat, beautiful lines.

My body shudders with excitement as I finish shaping three lines and toss my Amex to the side. There’snothinglike coke. Nothing beats it. There’s no high I would prefer, except maybe an Oxy high. But it’s two sides of the spectrum for me. Oxy turns me into a fucking zombie, whereas coke is like turning up the lights and pouring gasoline into my veins.

I could have gone for an Oxy high right now, but I can’t drive home if I do that. I’ll end up slumped over my steering wheel and in a ditch. No, on coke, I can still drive.

You would trust the energizer bunny to drive you home, right?

Everything is colorful and brand new on coke. Everything is fuckinggood.

This is where I go when nothing else works, when liquor turns sour, and Xanax starts to feel normal. I don’t know what happened inside my head tonight, but I need this. I need the escape. I need the laughter and the fucking pleasure it gives my insides.

Picking up the rolled-up fifty, I make sure it’s tight enough, and once I’m satisfied, I slide it into my right nostril and press my finger to the left.

When I snort the first line, my nose and throat tingle, making my eyes water. I ignore the feeling, moving to the second line and sniffing it through the slight burn. I groan with that one, the sensation making a tear roll down my cheek. My lungs ache, but my face warms with satisfaction. But the tingle in my nose reminds me that I can still feel, so I move to the third line, and that’s when the door behind me pushes open, letting in the noise from the club.

Chapter6

Penelope

I feel restless.Anxious.

I need to get fucked. I need to feel the type of bliss and distraction that only an orgasm can achieve. I’m not even entirely picky about who gives it to me; I just need to release the tension clawing its way down my spine.

The tip of the iceberg, the cherry on top of my shit sundae, was thatgod awfulmeeting at Luxington High today. I’m more stressed than I’ve ever been thinking about shadowing that mean ass woman for an entire year.

The more time I’ve spent obsessing and overthinking my brief exchange with Barbara Justice, the more I conclude that she’s going to make this year incredibly unpleasant. That could be my mind creating false assumptions and narrations of the situation, but right now, I’m 99% sure this is going to be horrible. She’s never going to take me seriously because of my age, because of my lack of experience, and because I stumbled over my goddamn words when we met.

Katie has told me I’m crazy a handful of times today, that I can’t possibly know anything about Mrs. Justice based on a one-minute encounter. That it wasn’t enough to really tell me anything concrete. But my intuition is sharp as a motherfucker. You have to have a sixth sense when you grow up in foster care and know how to read people right off the bat, and Barbara Justice is a straight-up difficult bitch.

So, now I’m not looking forward to my first ever school year as a teacher.

That’s why I need a release tonight.

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