Lost Minds

7

My breathing quickens and I stare at Daxon.

What did he just do?

His gaze falls on me and the smile on his face fades. I take a step back.

"Oh no, I scared you." He tucks the gun back in his sweatshirt and moves towards me.

I hold up my trembling arm and he halts.

"I want to walk home alone. Don't follow me." I turn on my heel and walk away from him, hurrying to leave the scene.

Daxon killed him.

"Naomi!" I ignore him.

I need time to think. I just have to think.

Daxon's going to prison and he's trying to make me his fucking accomplice.

I can't believe it. I liked that suit guy. Moe.

No, no. These aren't the right thoughts. I should feel bad, I should be terrified. I am terrified. I do feel bad.

I do.

What the fuck does he think he's doing? What the fuck even was that?

If people could go around killing people I wouldn't be so much of a nutcase, I could just...

Do what I want.

I stop, staring at the sidewalk below me.

That isn't what you want. It's not.

My hands still shake and my heart pounds hard in my chest.

I need my meds.

I jog down the block, open my door, and slip off my bookbag, running up the stairs.

I won't let this miss up my progress. I can't let this fuck up my system. I'm already satisfied fucking with people's heads. I can't want more than that.

I enter my room, pulling open the drawer with the last tube of pills I stuck back here a couple months ago.

My parents just give them to me now. They know better than to check whether or not I'm actually taking them.

I pop the top and take two capsules, swallowing the down dry.

This will give me peace.

The bitter taste lingers in my mouth. I mope over to my bed, turning myself over and on to it.

It didn't even happen. You didn't see it.

You don't want to be behind the trigger.

I shake my head, taking a deep breath.

I sit up, pulling my shirt over my head and undoing the buttons on my jeans.

The path of the hallway stands empty as I undress to the bathroom, discarding my clothes on the way.

I go in the room, naked, moving right into the bath.

This is stupid. I knew he was bad news.

The hot water coats my skin, steaming up the air around me. I scrub and scrub, hard against my body.

My mind is the most filthy part of me and I can't reach it. If soap was edible, would that make me better?

The meds set in as I wash the suds off my body. A hum begins, drowning out my emotions, pushing me into a box with my head.

Good.

I finish the shower, wipe myself down with a towel, and dry my hair. Walking back to my room, I put on some lotion, perfume, and Vaseline on my lips.