bad trips and national parks

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for emily.

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There's a part of me that got lost up Old Man's Cave back in Athens that I've never recovered. I know when it was lost, and where, but I've never had the guts to go back up there after what happened to Tommy Fallon. And I know that sounds pretty dumb, being afraid of a place where something bad happened almost ten years ago, but there's a reason PTSD surfaces after something bad happens and I'm not about to go against my body's defense systems just for a little extra personality. It's not even a bit of me I miss.

The night started off pretty normal. I was dating some kid named Brian at the time- nobody I stayed in contact with, but he kept me company for the time being. We had just finished fucking in the back of his friend's truck (not something I would recommend as it left bruises up and down my spine) when Alan, this kid who graduated a couple years before I had invited us to go trip with them over in Old Man's Cave. The plan was to take as much acid as we could still function on and then stumble around to see who had the best trip. On the ride up Brian slipped me a tab and I spent the whole drive staring at my hand, waiting for it to kick it.

That's when shit got weird. Alan turned off the freeway a few stops before the national park. When Brain asked him about it, he got all cold and defensive, telling us he was just picking up a friend. He pulled into the driveway of this rundown old house with only the porch light on, telling us to wait a minute and that he'd be right back. Brian slipped his hand into mine and I tried to focus on the cold sweat on his palms instead of the ticking of the clock. The truck was so old that it had an analog clock, which I suppose is useful when trying to save gas while using the car for other purposes, but still needing to know the time. I though about how useful a thing like that might have been back before everybody carried a cell phone in their pockets.

Alan got back into the truck and slammed the door. I was starting to feel the effects of the tab Brian had given me, and the inside of the cab seemed to be breathing. I squished myself between the metal of the door and the boy next to me. It was fascinating how two things so close to each other in distance could feel so different in temperature. The older boy seemed to be glaring out the windshield at something behind the house, and I was about to ask him if everything was okay when there was a thud from the back of the truck. I swore I could feel my heart jump out of my chest.

“Baby sh,” Brian said, putting his hand on my knee. It didn't feel good like it usually did; usually I felt important when he touched me in public. At this moment, it felt suffocating.

“It's just Owen and Jeff,” Alan said with a glare. He didn't even turn around before shifting into reverse and backing out of the driveway.

“I thought you said you were just getting a friend,” I whispered. I was sure Alan wouldn't be able to hear it, but he did.

His brow, already furrowed, wrinkled even further. “They wanted to come. We've got plenty for everybody, don't you worry, darling.” I remember his words having a slight sting to them, as though they curled up at the edges. Brian felt me flinch as they bit at my ears.

“Relax, yeah?” he mumbled into my hair. “I don't want you to have a bad trip.”

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