Misfits (#2)

22.

Everest.

I've sneaked back through the small section of woods behind Amory Manor, that I came through. It leads to a long road, surrounded by corn fields and Hudson sits in the front seat of my car, waiting.

I slide in, pulling my hood off whilst he starts the car, a thick blunt sat between his lips. Water still slides down my skin and my hair's a mess on my forehead as I rest my head against the headrest. I'm not focusing on it. My nails are digging into my palms.

I just had to leave Violet after we heard her brother start to return again. And all my mind revolves around is the way she lay underneath me, shaking in her own skin. The scar trails down her jaw, clearly a deep cut.

From what? Who fucking hurt her? How can someone hurt Violet? The girl's the embodiment of sweetness. I don't think she could hurt a fly, if asked.

Thinking of her helpless, the subject of someone injuring her, it makes me sick to the fucking stomach. And she won't tell me either so I don't know if it's someone at home, or school, or if it's a regularly occurring thing-

Hudson's rough voice breaks the silence, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He leans forward and turns down the music playing from the stereo so it's quieter. Some rock song.

I snatch the blunt from his lips and take a deep drag, exhaling slowly and letting it fog up the car. I shut my eyes, eager to take another drag. To let some of this tension dissipate. I want to drink so bad, which I can recognise is bad but it's hard. Resisting the bad, resisting an impulse that feels like the utmost relief. Alcohol's always been the...very first thing I go to.

"Why, of course. Go ahead. Yes, you can take my blunt." Hudson grumbles.

"Relax, punk." I grit out, "You've had like six."

"Fuck you." He retorts, not looking too happy whilst he waits for me to give it back. He's gonna have to wait, "Seriously, what's up your ass, sunshine? Did your little solar input not get enough energy?"

"You should get a lip ring. And an eyebrow piercing." I respond, shutting my eyes as smoke wafts from my lips, "Would help with your image, pretty punkster."

"I don't do piercings." He rifles through the glove compartment.

"My sincere apologies." I bow my head, "I didn't know what fit your criteria. So excessive tattoos, scary face, leather jacket, motorbike. Check." My lips tip up, "Little holes in skin. Oh, gosh, no."

"Why are you wet?" He snips.

"You're just so pretty." I taunt, "Gets me going."

"God, how the fuck does Luca even put up with you? I lose brain power every time I'm near you." He continues scouring through the compartment until he finds a pill bottle. Swiftly and with one hand, he uncaps it and spills two onto his tongue, swallowing it dry.

Just before he puts it back, I snatch it. He's immediately trying to take it back but I lean away from him, lifting the orange bottle until I can see the label. Alprazolam.

So he's taking xanny's. It's prescribed for anxiety disorders but Hudson's had pill bottles in his back pocket since we were twelve. They're never for what they're intended. He's an addict, heavier than anybody realises. Nobody really knows how deep Hudson's addiction runs. Nobody knows that I can only ever see him dying by the substances he's relied on since he was a little boy. Nobody knows that'll probably be the way he goes out.

"Don't fucking touch my shit." He snatches it back from me, jaw set in anger.

"Relax. I was just making sure it wasn't like heroine or something." I slump in my seat, yawning, "If you overdose, I'd prefer it to be when I'm not there. Creeps me out."