Satan Reincarnate

cannabis

***

"Come here." He demanded, wickedly pulling me across the alleyway.

He pulled me roughly by the hand, leading me to an even more deserted area. As his pace quickened, so did my pulse.

"Why, where?" I quietly panicked, my mind beginning to race.

He turned back to look at me, smug as he pulled me into the desolate corner. His cigarette moved up and down as he faintly smiled, his eyes speaking for him.

"You seemed stressed, don't you want to relax? Let go a bit..?" He muttered, his words elongated as he slowly spun me around, my back against a metal grate. His hands were fierce against my collarbone as he held me still, his fingers dancing back and fourth between the sticky mess on my shoulder, to my jaw.

"No.. I'm perfectly fine." I lied. I wasn't fine, in fact I hadn't ever been more scared or vulnerable in my life. I tensed under his predatory touch, my skin crawling not with desire, but uttermost worry.

"Lying won't do anything, Ang. Just take a drink, or a smoke. You choose." He smiled, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth with his index, and thumb finger. He tapped it, causing ashes to fall from the tip onto his glossy shoes.

His thumb massaged under my jaw, pressing down roughly to eventually make me sore. His hand wandered from my shoulder to the side of my face, slowly but surely. After a moment of silence, he exhaled.

"Fine. Guess I'll choose for you." He grumbled, smoke coming from his nose. He tookhis hand from the side of my face, and parted my lips with his thumb nail.

My eyes slightly widened as he put the cigarette in my mouth again, and held my mouth and nose shut.

"Just inahle, it's so easy." He let a slight laugh out as I grimaced under his push. His torso was against mine, trapping my hands between us.

He watched as I inhaled slowly, and then he unplugged my nose, allowing me to release the smoke. I squeezed my eyes shut, coughing as I blew the smoke from my nostrils. He took it from my lips, and put it between his again.

"Your eyes are already red." He softly remarked, his voice ill as his eyes wandered across mine. His hand still held the side of my face, his thumb ever so slightly grazing my eye.

If I didn't know what he was capable of and he weren't basically emotionless, I would feel safe under his hands. But, he was a sociopathic, masochistic, murderous liar who found pleasure in causing people extreme pain. So, obviously I was a tad uncomfortable. A bit more than that.

"You're so sheltered, Angie." He muttered, his voice a low whisper as his face slowly grew closer to mine.

I felt dizzy, and my vision was slightly vinegette. My ears rung a bit, and my head was heavy on my neck. What was in that cigarette?

"You feel it yet?" He smiled, using a hand to take the roll from his mouth, and stomp on it.

I parted my lips to respond, but nothing came out.

"Oh.. yeah you do." He uttered. His lips gently brushed against my forehead, one of his hands still propping up my face.

I hadn't ever been high, but I knew this wasn't what it was like. His eyes were red too, and they were watering so much his makeup ran down his face slightly. My torso was too heavy for my legs to hold as they began to grow weaker, and my vision and hearing more desolate. I looked at him, confusion potent in my bloodshot eyes.

"What.. whats..?" I slurred, hoping it made sense. My heart was fast, and my mouth began to dry. My hands felt strangely warm, but my feet were freezing cold. My muscles were so relaxed to the point where if Bill let go of me, I would most definitely collapse.

"Cannabis." He mumbled, his lips on my cheekbone. I felt his piercings cold against my skin as he talked, his smokey breath warming my cold face.

It didn't register to me what he had said, my mind wasn't in the right place. I heard the heavy echoed footsteps of a few people, three or four. Intense laughter rang among them as they approached, but my vision was too blurry to see anything other than thick red hair slowly passing me. There was a familiar floral smell, I just couldn't put my finger on it. It felt like my frontal lobe was oozing from my eye sockets, my brain felt like mush inside my cranium. I did hear one distinct voice, Tom. He said something, but it sounded like gibberish. I couldn't even tell if what he said was in english i was so delirious. But what I did know if that there was two pairs of hands on me now, two hands gently lifting me from the wall, and the other two supporting my legs. I was lifted midair as my eyes drifted shut, and I couldn't move. I remember hearing Bill say "cannabis", but whatever he made me smoke was way stronger than that. I went out cold, only hearing the ring of deep chatter around me, and feeling my body being draped over someone as I was carried somewhere else, that I didn't know. It was like all my senses were gone, or muted at that. I knew I was being carried, but I couldn't feel anyone's distinct touch. I could hear, but it wasn't registering in my mind as words, or noise. I could smell, but I didn't know what. My surroundings changed as I grew warm, being engulfed by furniture. Bill's familiar scent invaded my senses as I heard a slam, and then felt cold fingers on my face. I didn't know what was going on, but I was too delusional to worry about it.

+++

I grew more conscious. I didn't know what time it was, but it was dark outside when I opened my eyes. There was a window across the room covered with muted blue drapes, and I was wrapped in Bill's fur coat on a leather couch. My limbs hurt as I sat up, and my mouth was still dry. I still felt the effects of whatever he made me smoke, just not as strong. I turned slowly to look behind me, being met with a completely empty room. There was a one-way window that I couldn't see out of behind me, and a small box T.V playing static on the ground. finally, there was a large iron door latched shut. I slumped back over, too disheveled to care. I let my eyes drift shut, not registering the fact I was kidnapped yet.

***