Dice [h.s.]

19

"I'm afraid because I know I can't fight forever." -Unknown.

I remember the day that my mother found my smoking like it was yesterday. She was cooking pancakes for dinner and I was sitting outside in our garage with a cigarette between my lips.

It was right between our flower and fruit garden and my house. I spent a lot of time there. Smoking pot with friends or painting the walls. My dad also did a lot of training there with me.

She had come outside to tell me dinner was ready. Kiss the cook apron and all. My father had already told me a few minutes ago but I had to finish my last few drags. So, when she came outside and followed the smoke from the tobacco, she found me smoking.

She was very disappointed, mainly because she had told me over and over again not to do it throughout my life. That just made me want to do it even more. The risk factors were all too intriguing.

She didn't punish me though. She told me that she wishes I never got myself into it and that she would be there if I decided to stop. Sadly, I never took her up on the opportunity and I still smoke to this day. But I don't regret it.

I have no reason to smoke, except it's a way to cope I guess? Whenever I'm panicked I smoke. Anything really. Joint, blunt, usually a cigarette. It just helps me forget.

So, smoking on my fire escape while Natalie cooked pancakes for us felt all too nostalgic. I crawled out here while she ran home to change and shower. I was honestly fine without her, just very cautious.

It was only ten in the morning but I had a lot on my mind. The overwhelming information from the kidnapping was seeping through my brain waves again. I knew I needed a distraction.

I hate dealing with stuff. It's such a nuisance. Like, why do bad things happen to good people? We don't deserve it. That's why I'm not very Christian. My mom would make me go to church every Sunday as a kid. But I never paid attention.

I feel that if god were real, there wouldn't be death or cancer. Everything would be perfect. I don't know, I guess if I ever have kids, they're screwed. I guess they'll just have to take their fathers' religion.

Speaking of Sundays, today was Sunday. Harry sent us a text early this morning telling Natalie to stay home and 'watch' me like I'm some child. I guess I kind of am to him right now. He literally undresses me in a very unsexual way.

"Your mothers right you know, you shouldn't smoke anymore." Natalie's voice rang in my ear drums.

I turned my head to see her half sitting in the small window hole. Her legs were in the apartment and her elbows were on the rusty fire escape floor.

"My mom's not here right now is she?" I chuckled and looked down at the white stick between my fingers.

"I saw her while I was in New York. She seemed stressed." Natalie took the cigarette from between my fingers and took a drag of it herself.

"Yea, she said she's working on a hard case. But, you went to New York?" I was kind of thrown off on why she wouldn't tell me she went home.

"It was last minute. I had a layover and decided to see your mom." Natalie handed the cigarette back to me with a smile.

"I miss her. You know, I thought I wasn't going to ever get to hug her again." I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked on the white paper.

"I'm still so sorry you ever had to go through this. It's not right." Natalie frowned and watched me stomp on the cigarette with my bare heel.