Shifted #Wattys2016

LI

I watched as Emerson dropped some crystals into the end of his meth pipe. He held his lighter underneath and breathed in the fumes. Emerson leaned his head back and smiled. "Feels good."

Greyson smiled at me. "Emerson, let me take a hit."

Emerson raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want some of my shit? What the hell have you ever done for me?" He started to process again, stopping before heating the crystals. He handed the pipe to Greyson. "Don't fuck yourself up too much."

"Greyson," I said, my voice borderline condescending. "Don't."

"Why not? You're not my mother."

"Whatever,"

"What? Really? Tell me what's wrong. Are you jealous that you're not getting any? Here." Greyson held the pipe out to me. "Take it."

"No."

"The fuck is your problem? Are you too good for it?"

"No, I just don't want any."

Greyson looked away for a second. "You fucking bitch! Did your mother never teach you to take what is offered? Jesus fuck! Emerson here might think you're being rude. So just take the crystal and go on with life."

I looked him right in the eye and said a defiant, "no".

Greyson slapped me, the momentum and surprise of it throwing me on the ground. Emerson erupted in a fit of laughter, then a fit of coughing. "Now," Greyson said, towering over me. "Take the goddamn pipe."

I looked at him, my cheek surely red, and said, "No."

Greyson brought his foot to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I coughed and wheezed.

"Take it."

"No."

Another kick, this one landing on my nose. I heard a loud crunch and was sure he broke the cartilage. "Take it!" He screamed.

"No!" I screamed back, my yell cut short by another kick, and then another right after that. My chest and again in my stomach.

"Take. It."

I brought both hands into fists. I spit, bright crimson dribbling off my lips. I took a deep and shaky breath and looked at Greyson. "No."

Greyson stepped on my shoulder, digging his heel deeper and deeper. It hurt. It all hurt so much. "Fine. Don't take the fucking pipe. Your loss. My gain." He pushed his foot against my side, shoving me across the room like a pillow. My back slammed into the wall and I curled into a ball, unable to bring myself to her the hell out of there.

I slept on the far end of the bed, hardly letting myself touch Greyson. He didn't bother to try to touch me. I couldn't eat, could hardly breath, and my sides were turning purple. My back ached and I wanted to shower but I could take my shirt off without my whole body screaming at me to stop. There was no comfortable way to lay and try to sleep.

When I woke up, I struggled to pull myself out of the bed. I fought through the pain of taking off my shirt and took a shower.

I didn't bother with a bra or a real shirt and instead just pulled on a jacket. I stood in the kitchen, thinking over what to eat.

"Are you going to see a doctor about that?"

I turned around and sighed. "I don't know, Jac,"

"You probably should."

"They never do in the movies."

"They never actually break their noses in movies."

I shrugged. "I'll be fine. Noses heal pretty fast, just hurt like a bitch." I opened the fridge up and grabbed sandwich meat. A sandwich for lunch. "Besides, I don't want the doctors to ask too many questions about how I even broke my nose."

Jac nodded.

"Has he ever done anything like this to you?" I asked.

Jac shook her head. "No."

Something told me she was lying. Or maybe just not telling the whole truth.

I let the subject drop.