Toxic (Better Than You) (6 page)

A few minutes after we call 911, we hear the sirens and then we see the lights. Sam and I are sitting on the g
round, our backs against the front tire. We tell them that we couldn’t wake Sophia and were afraid to move her. An older paramedic leads us over to an ambulance and checks our injuries, deciding that we need to go the hospital. There’s no argument from us as he moves Sam to her own ambulance and sets her up on a stretcher. In fact, I lie down willingly because my body just hurts so much.

The bright lights of the hospital hurt my eyes. They make me nervous. They make me feel exposed, vulnerable. I cry out for Sam, but all I see is people in blue scrubs and all I feel is their gloved hands, poking and prodding and touching too much. I try to push them away. I scream as they cut my dress open. Tears are streaming down my face, I know, because they’re so warm and I’m so cold and sleepy. But
there are too many people and too much noise and too much pain. I thrash my arms and legs, trying to break free, but they hold me down and then, out of all of the things my body is feeling, there’s a pinch on my neck and the world starts to slow down.

It gets quiet.

Everything starts to blur.

And then it goes black. And I’m alone. I’m always alone.

November 23
rd
, 2006

             
The top pops open easily enough.
Child proof, my ass
, I think. A five year old could figure this shit out. Two pills shake out onto my hand and I throw them in my mouth, swallowing them down without water. They’re bitter, but just for now. Soon they’ll be sweet and welcome and just what I need. Looking down at my exposed stomach, I rub the barely there scar and say a silent thank you. If it wasn’t for that car accident last year, I wouldn’t have gotten to know my new friend, Vicodin. He came into my life at a perfect time, just when I needed to be numb to the world. I call him Vic for short. Needless to say, we know each other very intimately.

             
For reasons I can’t seem to remember, I get dressed and walk outside to meet Sam at her car. Thankfully her dad is as allergic to mornings as Mom and lets her take the car during the week as long as she lets her brother ride along. It works out perfectly for all of us. And Vic helps me forget what driving with her makes me remember.

             
“You look hot,” Sam lets me know as I slide into the passenger seat. Her eyes are glazed over, just like mine, and I give her a knowing smile.

             
“You guys are gross,” her brother mutters from the backseat.

             
I turn around to face him while Sam backs out of my driveway, giving him a fake pout. “You don’t think I look hot, Jeremiah?”

             
His eyes turn round like saucers. Being two years younger than us, Sam and I make it our personal jobs to ensure that he’s uncomfortable at every turn. I push my boobs closer together and watch as his eyes drift down to my cleavage before shooting back up to my face. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, blushing.

             
“It’s okay, Jeremiah. You can show me how sorry you are later,” I say with a wink.

             
Sam only laughs, because she knows I’m not serious, but I can tell Jeremiah’s mind starts to race.
Poor boy
. As soon as I turn around, Vic starts to kick in and numbs me blissfully. I don’t know how Sam manages to drive while on this stuff, but I don’t even bother thinking about it any further than that. It would be impossible to anyways.

             
We pull into the parking lot of school, in our usual spot, and Danny makes his way to my side of the car. The door opens and he’s pulling me out, up, into him.

             
“Hey, baby,” he purrs into my ear.

             
I let him guide me, hold me, own me. He makes his rounds, never letting go, but it’s okay because I can’t feel anything. The guys leer at me, the girls sneer at me. I’m wanted and envied and it should be thrilling, enticing, intoxicating. But I’m numb, unaware, empty. Sam surfaces from Brody’s chest long enough to glance my way. We hold each other’s eyes, promises and vows linking us together forever.

             
Danny’s hand snakes underneath my shirt, hot against my back, inching higher, higher. I feel his heat, know he’s there, but I don’t care. He pulls me close again, twirls a piece of my hair in his fingers. Caresses a trail down my neck, chest, cleavage. I don’t react because I can’t.

             
“You’re mine, you know that, right?” he says, holding my eyes and licking his lips.

             
“Yes,” I respond, automatic, robotic, instinctive.

             
His lips hover right above mine, holding me there, submissive. “Good girl,” he says before kissing me.

             
I’m a very good girl.

~~

             
History repeats itself,
the teacher says, and I think how insanely true that is.

The numbness has passed and now I’m thinking, contemplating, wondering. I think about my life and the bleakness of it, the comfort I have in it. I contemplate my feelings towards Danny, a mixture of hate and need and confusion.
I wonder where I’ll end up, if I’ll be just like Mom with a kid I don’t care about, a different boyfriend every week and a dose of drugs every day.

This is the time when I realize how weak I am, because even though Danny disgusts me, I don’t want to be without him. Even though he treats me like his property, like a prize, an object, I don’t walk away from him because I’m not sure anyone else would want me. Danny keeps me around, keeps my bottle full, keeps everyone else away. In
a way, he protects me, fills me, loves me. I know that he’s everything I need and exactly what I deserve. I don’t know what I’ll do once he graduates.

When school’s over, Danny meets me at the doors to the parking lot like he does every day. Sam comes out later, again attached to Brody, and the four of us walk to our cars. But I don’t go with Sam. I never do. Danny takes me to the apartment he shares with his brother, and keeps me there until its dark. Today’s no different.

Before Sam gets into her car, she looks at me and mouths, “Are you okay?”

After checking to make sure Danny’s not watching, I nod back, because it’s the only thing I know to do. Pretend that everything’s fine. Pretend that I’m okay.
Since the accident, Sam doesn’t ask questions more than once. We don’t talk about anything that can’t be seen and we definitely don’t talk about Sophia and her now empty house.

Danny grabs my hand and leads the way to his truck. Once we’re inside, he turns and looks at me, and my heart beats in overdrive. I need more V
ic. If I can feel my heart beating than I’m feeling too much. I won’t make it through the rest of the day without it.

“Why does Sam watch us so much?” he asks angrily.

I don’t know what answer will make him mad, so I settle for ignorance. He likes it when he knows something I don’t. “What do you mean?”

He moves quickly, grabbing my
upper arm and pulling me so close that I can smell his breath; cigarette smoke and mint. “Don’t fucking play stupid, Logan. You know damn well what I mean.”

Now I really don’t know what to do. If I suddenly answer him like I know what he’s been talking about the whole time, it’ll be obvious that I’m lying. But if I keep pl
aying dumb, he’ll just keep being angry. It’s a lose, lose situation either way.

“I haven’t seen her watch us, babe, but maybe what you’re seeing is just girl stuff? You know how we are,” I say to appease him. My answer doesn’t question him and it doesn’t admit or deny anything. Two points for me.

He searches my eyes intently, waiting for me to break or something but I won’t break because I can’t, not now. Then he pulls my lips to his roughly and runs his hand down my back, his touch burning me from the inside out. I need more Vic.

“Sam said the same thing,” he says.

Ten points for Danny.

The drive to his apartment is quiet. I watch the stores and restaurants fly by and I wonder if people are there, shopping and eating with their happy families in their normal lives.
I hope they’re happy. Then, like I do so much more these days, I think about Melissa and wonder if
she’s
happy, with her perfect mom and loving dad and adorable brothers. It was hard to stay in touch because I don’t have a phone or computer and could only email her from the library, somewhere I stopped going not too long after she left. But it’s impossible to forget the first person I ever called a friend, even if she was only in my life for two short years.

Sometime during my train of thought we get to Danny’s apartment. The sound of the engine cutting brings me back to the here and now and I jump out and follow Danny up the stairs. It’s empty, like usual, and the first thing Danny does is take me back to his room. He undresses me slowly, methodically, and I start to panic when I realize I’m way too sober.

“Baby, do you have any Vic?” I ask sweetly.

“I get what I want, then you get what you want,” he says in between the kisses he’s dropping along my bare shoulders. Tears sting my eyes because I don’t want to do this, I
never
want to do this, but there’s nothing I can do. I just comply like a good girl and wait until it’s over. He walks out of the room and I hear the bathroom door open, the bottle of pills shake and then he’s back.

I swallow them dry and hide under the covers until I forget where I am and what I’ve done.

June 1
st
, 2007

             
“Go sleep it off, Mom,” I tell her impatiently, leaned up against the counter in the kitchen. She’s pacing the floor, a cigarette dangling from her lips and a glass of vodka in her hand. Danny’s going to be here to pick me up in ten minutes and I’m not even ready. He’ll be pissed if we’re late for his own graduation.

             
“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do. I know what to do,” she slurs at me. Rolling my eyes, I push away from the counter. It’s pointless trying to talk to her when she’s like this. I’m about to pass her, heading to my room to finish getting ready, when her hand snaps out and grabs my arm. I don’t even know how she managed to move so quickly. Warning bells go off in my head.

             
“Let go of me,” I demand.

             
She gets in my face, her reek breath fanning over me. “You’re no better than me, Logan.”

             
It’s true, I’m no better than her and I know it, but to hear her say it makes me mad. The fact that even
she
knows it makes me mad. “Fuck you, Mom,” I say to her, slowly, deliberately.

             
Then just as quickly as she grabbed my arm, she swings her hand at my head, but it’s the hand with the glass of vodka and the cheap glass shatters against my temple. It probably wouldn’t have hurt too much, but a piece of it catches me just right and instead of smashing and falling, it slices into my skin.

             
Mom’s eyes widen and she puts her hand to her mouth. Warm blood trickles down my cheek, my neck, onto my shirt. I stumble to the side, too confused to right myself or step away from Mom. She hasn’t hit me in so long. Not since I refused to sleep with her boyfriend’s son to get her drugs. Carefully, I reach my fingers to my temple, wincing as my finger grazes a shard of glass sticking out of my skin. Now I fall against the counter, holding my breath to keep from puking up the emptiness of my stomach. On my hands and knees, I start to crawl towards the bathroom, leaving bloody handprints behind me as I go. Mom just watches from the side, her mouth still covered and her eyes brimming in tears. She doesn’t move to help, though, so I don’t pay her any attention.

             
Just as I pass the TV room, almost into the hallway, a knock on the door stops me in my tracks. Mom and I both snap our heads towards it, neither of us moving or saying a word. A pin dropping could be heard in this silence.

             
“Lo?” Danny calls, and I shoot Mom a look that says
back the fuck up
, so she does.

             
“Danny!” I yell, relieved, for the first time, to hear his voice.

             
My heart starts to beat faster, which is bad because it sends more blood out of my already pouring wound. Just the feel of it running down my face makes me dizzy. The door opens and Danny steps in. He doesn’t see me at first, only sees Mom and looks at her confused for what seems like a full minute before he follows her eyes and sees me on the floor, blood everywhere.

             
“Holy shit,” he whispers before rushing me and gathering me in his arms. “What the fuck did you do?” he screams at Mom, who just stands there quiet and crying.

             
“I’m okay, Danny,” I manage to tell him, hoping to calm him down. The last thing we need is for him to explode on Mom. We would never be able to cover that up.