Within the Sins

٢ Sky High

حنيتها صوت.

The white walls of the small living room Yazid's friends reside in have ripped paint and mold all over them. The room is small and has the strong scent of drugs. There is a narrow kitchen on the left side and an extremely small bathroom right next to it. Both friends, Nader and Majed, share the rent due to their parents having disowned them.

Ripping the brown bag Moutassem gave him, Yazid takes everything out of it. He takes a deep breath as he sees the needle he has been yearning to insert into his arm.

Nader and Majed sit on either side of him, one lying down on a bed and the other on an old, ripped couch. Yazid's eyes wander over to Nader, who is sniffing a white powder, while Majed chuckles at absolutely nothing. Yazid realizes that he did not lock the front door, so he taps Nader's arm and asks him to prepare everything in the bag for him.

Nader nods before Yazid walks into a hallway that is no more than two meters long and locks the off-white, cracked door. Before he can even turn around to head back into the living room, his phone vibrates in his light blue jeans. He pulls it out of his front pocket and sees that his father is calling. He bites his lower lip. "Alo?" he greets.

"Baba, where are you?" his father asks. "You've been out all day. Come home."

"I'm with friends."

"It's late."

"I said I'm just with friends. I'll be home later. Yalla, I'll see you soon." He hangs up and walks back to his seat. He brings one leg under the other and settles his eyes on the square, brown table. The needle, sitting on top of the table, looks so pleasing already. The fact that it sits there, ready for him, is enough proof that it loves him, and it will always be there for him. . .even when he is not there for it.

Majed releases an extremely loud laugh and claps his hands together. Tears start trickling down his cheeks as he rolls back and forth on the bed he is lying down on. "Look! There's something on your face!" he shouts, pointing a finger at Yazid and bursting into further laughter.

Yazid turns his head to look at Nader. "Is there really? What is it?" he asks in his still raspy voice.

"There's nothing. He's just high." Nader brings back the powder to his nose.

Yazid flicks Majed's temple before clutching the needle in his hand. Taking deep breaths, he puts his left arm out. He tightly ties a long scarf around his upper arm.

"Bism-illah," he whispers, starting with the name of God.

He places the syringe in position and slides it in. With the syringe inside his arm, he leans back against his seat and rests his head on the leather couch. He groans in delight, keeping it inside his arm for a little while before pulling it out. He feels like he has officially reached an ultimatum. He closes his eyes and sees a blue sky around him. There are clouds everywhere, and his body is flying up in the air. He breathes in the fresh air and looks down towards a beautiful body of water from the sky-serenity on Earth, it surely is. A part of him even feels as though he is a god. He is on top, in control, and has found what he has always searched for: tranquility.

Yazid does not realize that, in reality, he is actually falling off the couch and onto the cold, broken tile while breathing in oxygen from the stuffy air of a poorly ventilated room.

Surely, he is falling down ever so gradually as that is what certain types of friends do to you.