LABYRINTH | Scarlett Johansson x Daughter

29 | falling off the wagon.

*this chapter contains drug abuse, so please read with caution if that's something that triggers you.

A pin drop could be heard in the empty parking lot Oliver and I chose to sit in at the early hour of three-thirty in the morning. The only source of light we had around us was from the street lamps surrounding the lot, and despite the hint of eeriness, it was peaceful.

If I hadn't consumed half a bottle of tequila or hit a stupid amount of nicotine I may not be feeling so relaxed, but I'm choosing to run with it because it's the quietest my mind has been since losing my parents.

In fact, it's the quietest my mind has been maybe ever.

My knees are up to my chest as my grey oversized jacket hangs loosely off my shoulders, the slight breeze sending a chill down my spine.
"You know Asha?" I question my friend, a bottle of tequila in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"You mean the Asha we sit with every week day for lunch? Yes, I think so," he remarks, a teasing smile resting on his lips.

I half-heartedly chuckle at my own stupidity, gently kicking him in the shin for his comment.
"I'm pretty sure she's a lesbian."

"Aren't her and Marty a thing, or was that all in my imagination?" He frowns, pressing a bottle of vodka against his lips.

"Well they are, but she complimented my boobs yesterday. It was odd. She's got to at least be bi," I decide, keeping my voice quiet.

"You do have great boobs," he agrees, earning an unimpressed glare from me and yet another kick in his shin before we fall into another moment of silence. The conversation has been very short and abrupt these last couple of hours which is unusual for the two of us, but I don't question it. I enjoy the quiet when my mind isn't racing.

"Can I ask you something?" Oliver queries, turning his head toward me.

"Sure," I answer, inhaling as I bring the butt of the cigarette between my lips.

"When we um...have...when we—"

"Have sex?" I interrupt, breathing out slowly.

"Yes," he clears his throat and chuckles awkwardly, "I've noticed you've started keeping your top on the last couples of weeks and I just want to know if you're okay?"

I blink a few times as I process his questions before dropping my gaze to the concrete in front of my feet.

"Is somebody hurting you?" The hesitancy is obvious in the way he asks. "Are you hurting yourself?"

"I appreciate your concern, Oliver, but it's none of your business," I mumble, my eyes still focused on the ground as my fingers anxiously tap on the glass bottle in my hand.

"Can you at least promise me you're safe at your foster home then? Sam and Ryan aren't doing anything to you?" The urgency in his tone gives me the impression he is genuinely worried and that sets an alarm off in my brain. He's not ever seemed this interested in my life before and that scares me slightly.

"Sam and Ryan are fine," I assure him, meeting his gaze with my eyebrows drawn together.

"Good. And Scarlett?"

"Oh gosh. Scarlett wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, not unless a fly hurt me, then maybe she'd hurt a fly," I explain, finding his question slightly humorous.

"Okay," he nods, "good. If you ever need to talk about anything though Kenz, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," I breathe, a small smile resting on my lips.

He holds out the bottle of vodka and switches it for the tequila in my hand instead and after doing so, I shuffle myself forward so I'm able to lie down rest my head on the concrete slab at the end of the parking space.