“If you roll your eyes at me one more time today, I’m going to pluck them out of your head.” To drive his threat home,he reached forward, as if he would indeed pop out one of my eyeballs.
Jerking back out of reach, I spun around to face the front. I felt the two of them casting glances in my direction. I wasn’t sure why it was such a big deal. People hooked up all the time without it meaning a damn thing. The two of them used to do it as well before they were so pathetically domesticated.
“What?” I finally asked. “Why do you both keep looking at me?”
Rebel snickered, slowing down for a red light. “Just wondering how long it will take until you fall head over heels for her. If karma has a sense of humor, it will happen.”
“Good thing I don’t believe in karma. I’ve fucked a lot of chicks and never fallen in love with a single one of them. Why would Ripley be any different?” My brow furrowed as I scowled. Since my friends had lost their minds over their women, they’d turned into absolute idiots.
“I don’t know, man, you tell me.” Rebel shrugged. “Since when do you chase other guys away from girls you’re not interested in? I saw the whole thing from the table. You’re not fooling anyone.”
I shot him a perplexed look that conveyed my confusion. Too bad he’d already turned his attention back to the road as the light turned green. “Don’t be ridiculous. I saw an opportunity and I took it. I’ve wanted to fuck that girl for a while. Now I’ve done it, and we’ll both move on.”
Both Stray and Rebel burst out laughing. I was tempted to open the door the next time Rebel slowed the car down and leap out. I didn’t want to catch their kind of crazy. From what I’d seen it seemed to be contagious.
We soon reached the home of the guy who’d been holding out on giving us our money. Quickly the mood changed, becoming more sinister and serious. I was more than happy tokick this guy’s ass and take our cash. Anything to get the focus off me.
CHAPTER SIX
RIPLEY
I really did not want to go into work tonight. Even though I’d slept most of the afternoon away, I didn’t have the energy to put on a smile and play the courteous server. Working for tips fucking sucked.
Coming down from a night of drugs and alcohol sucked too. I felt especially blah. Like I would’ve been happy to stay in bed all night and stare at the ceiling. I only got this shitty job in the first place because of my mother. She was too strung out to pay her own bills, forcing me to come up with the money instead. Now that I no longer lived with her, I needed the money even more.
While getting ready, I played some music on my phone in an attempt to perk up my mood. Instead, it only made me feel more depressed about my circumstances. Even though I knew some of my mood was an after effect of last night’s drug use, I couldn’t shake the storm cloud that hung over me.
Needing something to help me get through the night, I popped two more pills, frowning into the bottle. I was running low again.
Turning my attention back to my reflection in the mirror, I applied some light eyeshadow in neutral colors, followed by acoat of mascara. A dusting of blush to bring some color into my cheeks.
My boss preferred that we wore our hair up, so I grabbed my blonde locks and twisted them up in a hair clip. We didn’t have uniforms at work but were always expected to wear a black skirt or pants with a white top. Simple enough.
Standing there in my underwear before getting dressed, I glanced down at the healing cuts on my thigh. I hated the way my gaze strayed to the razor blade tucked into my makeup bag. Needing to relax, knowing that it would at least give me a brief reprieve from the tension inside, I reached for the blade.
I took a seat on the edge of the tub, my pulse kicking up a notch as I pressed the blade against my skin. Right beneath the last cut from a few days ago. I tried not to do this too often. Sometimes I just needed to let out the pressure building inside me, and this was the only way that made me feel like I could breathe again for a while.
Both of my thighs were marked in scars. High enough to easily be hidden by a skirt. Most of them had faded to a pale white. I’d started doing this several years ago when my mom really went downhill with her addiction. Then I’d quit for a while, burying the urge deep inside until recently. Mom had gotten worse. Treating me like utter shit. It helped me cope. Now that I was away from her, I wanted to stop. Sometimes it was so hard to resist.
Every time I cut myself, watching the blood well up, I promised myself this was the last time. And I meant it too. Until the next time.
As my skin split open, I sucked in a deep breath, releasing it on a sigh. The rush of endorphins combined with the pills making their way through my system brought me a sense of calm and euphoria like no other. The perfect combination.
After the shallow cut stopped bleeding, I carefully cleaned it before getting dressed. I worked the six hour shift tonight. From six to midnight. Saturday nights were always busy. Hopefully it would go fast.
The apartment was empty when I left. Athena had gone over to Luna’s to watch a movie. I envied her ability to do whatever she wanted. My student loans didn’t cover living expenses. Mostly because I’d been living at home when I enrolled in school.
By the time I got into my little gray Honda, I was feeling a lot better. A little high. Nothing too crazy. Just enough to keep me light on my feet and feeling good throughout the evening.
Did I have an addiction? Maybe. If I were being totally honest with myself. I knew that opioids were addictive. My reliance on them was unhealthy, yet I didn’t consider it to be a problem. Not yet.
I figured it could’ve been worse. I wasn’t strung out like my mom who could barely keep her eyes open or form a coherent sentence most days. She took anything and everything. She’d been that way since my dad walked out, leaving the two of us alone eight years ago.
Looking back, I didn’t blame him for leaving her. However, I did blame him for leaving me. He called on holidays and birthdays, sending the occasional check. It didn’t make up for his absence, and I would never forgive him for that.
“Hi, Ripley, how is your day going?” Darla, the restaurant’s hostess, greeted me with a big smile as I entered the building. “I love your necklace.”
I reached out to touch the teardrop shaped amethyst pendant that hung from a silver chain around my neck. It had been a gift from my grandmother before she passed. I still missed her every day.
