The Whispers

17: Adopted

"There's so much talk about the drug generation and songs about drugs. That's stupid. They aren't songs about drugs; they're about life." - Cass Elliott, American singer and actress.

Oxy felt different from cocaine. It wasn't a bad kind of different, but it certainly wasn't better. I don't think anything could ever come close to comparing to how initially felt when I took the coke.

We kissed more, turned off the TV and danced to no music. I think we talked about things that probably made sense at the time but now looking back at it its complete rubbish.

"If your fingers were carrots," Harper laughed, "Would you eat them?"

"Depends," I answered. "Would they function as normal fingers?"

"Yes, but let's pretend you're really hungry."

"Are you counting my thumb as a carrot, as well?"

"No, I heard somewhere that they aren't fingers."

"You are correct that they aren't fingers, and yes I would eat the carrots on my hand if I were hungry enough."

That's all of the conversation I remembered before I took more oxycodone than I probably should have and forgot the rest of the night.

I wake up in an uncomfortable position in my bed, my shirt is off but everything else is still there, and Harper is lying next to me. His long, lanky arms are draped over my back, his breath is hot on my neck, and my legs are draped over him. I don't remember much at all from yesterday but I do know that we didn't go too far with each other. I think we respect one another too much go as far as to have sex while neither of us are sober.

At least I hope.

"Good morning," Harper speaks into my skin. Our position doesn't seem to be an issue to him as he snuggles closer to me, his grip on my back tightening and his head pushed farther into my throat. I felt almost as if he were trying to suffocate me but between my pounding head and my tired body, I don't have the strength to push him away.

"Morning," I respond. I'm mortified at my behaviour yesterday - I shouldn't have taken the substances he offered nor should I have done anything sexual. I hope he understands that I normally wouldn't have done such things and that I wasn't in the right headspace. How could he, though, if I don't tell him? "I didn't expect to do any of that yesterday, I'm kind of embarrassed."

"Don't be," he says. He gives me a kiss on the neck and pulls back. "It was fun."

I'm not sure if "fun" is the correct way to describe yesterday. Stressful, upsetting, self-destructive, and damaging come to mind, but not "fun."

Before I know it Harper is up, reaching into his box and popping two white pills in his mouth, similar to the ones we had yesterday. I don't see how he can be up already; I personally feel like shit and don't want to move at all, let alone want to do drugs again.

"How are you feeling?" Harper is smiling from ear to ear as he sits down next to me, his hands gliding between my shoulder blades to rub my back. He's touchy today. Part of me wants to not worry about it and the other part is paranoid that he thinks we're in some kind of messed up relationship. Do I want to be in a relationship with him? I don't think either of us are well enough to commit ourselves to anyone at the moment.

That's not really an answer to the question, though.

"Horrible," I groan. I was about to say something else but I honestly don't know what I would say other than a 'thank you for letting me use your recreational drugs for free.' I thankfully don't have to say anything else, though, because my phone starts to ring.