Insatiable

29

"And you're sure?" Chase asked as we walked around into our infamous alley.

I nodded, "Yeah. Just something to take off the edge."

"I don't know man ... it's been a while since you done - anything."

"Pack it's just weed what the fuck is going on with you."

He shrugged, "I don't know. I just don't like being the reason people fall back into a hole. It seems like you been going through it. What if weed isn't enough?"

"You don't trust me?" I asked with a bit of annoyance in my voice.

"I trust you," He smirked. "Don't trust that girlfriend of yours."

"The fuck are you saying Pack? What girlfriend?"

"Maliah will have my head on a pitchfork if she found out I was selling to you."

I felt my chest tighten at that dumb comment, "That's not my girl, alright? Don't say that."

He slapped his hand down on my right shoulder, "Jax whatever the hell is going on between you guys, that's some relationship shit. That's your girl. Two people only go through that when they care too much about each other." 

"I guess."

"Trust in the process." He said.

I laughed, "Like you know."

"You'd be surprised. Well, uh ... I gotta get back to you on the weed thing."

We stopped at the other end of the alley. Can't believe walked that much in a matter of seconds.

"What? Why? Can't you just get it and get right back to me?"

He scoffed, "I'm sure you know I'm under investigation Keen. Don't be stupid."

I rolled my eyes, "Have one of your henchmen deliver then. I don't believe you just stepped off the radar that fast."

"Look asshole, your growing depression doesn't mean that much to me. I could possibly be thrown in detention and maybe jail if I get tried as an adult. There's tons of other sellers around school." He said firmly.

"Now you fucking care about your life? Give me a break."

He grilled me, "Fuck you. You don't know why I do the shit I do."

"Shut the hell up. You're a privileged white boy. You didn't have to do shit. Stop acting like you have it so hard with your parents," I said backing away from him. "This is your own fault."

I turned on my heels and walked away from him. I'm supposed to feel sorry for him? No one told him to start selling drugs. He's practically rich. That's his fault. I can get weed elsewhere even though I don't really trust anyone else.

I hate people that do bad shit cause they want their life to be bad. They just want to create some false image of themselves or the life they've lived. It's stupid.

If he really gets fucked, he had it coming.

It only took me about fifteen minutes to get back to my area. Fifteen minutes was enough to make my nose numb and runny.

I turn the last corner. I pull my hood further down over my head and shove my hands in my pockets.

I feel like I'm going crazy.

My anxiety is through the roof. Sleep is becoming hard to come by. I just need something to level me out. That's why I wanted weed.

Something light. Nothing too crazy, but of course my first option is crossed off the list.