lmc71775
January 25th, 2012, 03:56 AM
Chapter One
“Just do it!” Rosario demands, while we creep around the school grounds like two lost rats looking for shelter.
“I swear Penelope, I know you want to,” she continues, both of us standing under the graffiti-covered bleachers for whatever warmth we can capture.
Rose’s thick chestnut hair waves like a flag in the high winds. She’s shivering, trying desperately not to drop the tiny, round pill in her hand. I think if I look hard enough I’ll start to see my reflection in its slick black casing— like it’s telling me to take it. “Let me in, let me in,” it’s saying.
Rose crouches with her anorexic frame and starts to lose it. She rocks back and forth like that’s going to massively speed up time. I notice her delicate skin transforming from its natural cameral color, to a paler tan. Whatever antlike thing that’s bugging through her veins, makes her jittery body all the much more unbearable to watch. Obviously she’s been on it before. That’s a given.
I cheat her one hard look, like I am finally ready to blow the whistle on me yearning to quit. But I haven’t been there in days and I miss him miserably. The only way I can see him again is if I ingest it. I need to tell Zeek the truth this time.
“I’m so fuckin’ serious, Pen. Mine’s kickin’ in now, so make your God damn mind up already.” She pulls my left hand out and plunks the black rain-drop pill into my palm. Already it’s clinging to me like some magnetic force as it situates itself in the very center of my hand. It wants to get in, like pronto. I know it. I can just feel it start to melt within into the fine lines of my fingerprints. I wonder for a split second if I wait too long, will it totally disintegrate into my pores and get into my system regardless of my choice? Maybe now’s not the time to tell her I’m done. Then again would it really hurt to take it just one more time? After over-analyzing myself and watching Rosario do a dippy dance, I chicken out about kickin’ it and bring the pill to my mouth and pop it in like candy. What the fuck, might as well.
I let it rest in the middle of my mouth like an oyster clamped onto its pearl. Rose tugs me again—this time at my parka and pulls my arm. The gel-like covering dissolves quickly as the liquid center begins to seep down my throat. I could spit out the polluted shot at any moment, but Rose would have a shit fit if I waste any, so I swallow the sloshing juice and try to calm myself down. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
I look at Rose and see her irises cloud into a subtle yellow. It spreads over her normal green tones. I still can’t understand how she gets away with such a sinful infection. No one seems to notice. Why that is, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s her slutty style of charm that escapes her, which I don’t really care for. But every guy seems to love it regardless.
“There, that’s better. Now I can see everything,” she grinningly says, scanning with her newly drugged-up eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Are you sure you wanna do this, Rose?” I ask her, hoping she’ll change her mind and want to ditch. I seriously can’t face those fuckheads that go to our school. “I don’t want to be a repeat offender,” I urge again.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me, smiling an almost believable smile as her teeth chatter between each word. “Nothing’s gonna happen, I promise.”
“How do you know that, Rose? I mean, think about it. The whole school had to be evacuated last time. We could have gotten expelled.” Like that matters to her anyway. I don’t know why, but it matters to me.
“It’s cool, come on now, let’s go have some fun!” Rose insists.
We urgently jog towards the school. Clearly, she’s excited now since she’s higher than a damn kite. I suppose I would be too if I got all that driving attention. Then again…no. Not even sure why a pretty girl like Rosario Rodriguez would want to hang out with someone like me. I mean, we are complete opposites. She has this long lusty hair, while I keep mine short and butchered, changing it every chance I can get. She wears all the hip clothes, whereas I’m more the grunge girl with thrift shop clothes such as flannels and simple jeans. Shit. I’m not even lucky enough to see a penny to pick up to buy things like that anyway.
Rose continues to wickedly laugh as we pick up speed through the football field now to get to the front doors. “This is a riot,” she laughs again. “You should see what I’m seeing.”
Each person has their own unique experience while they’re on it. And no one really knows what the other is truly experiencing unless they physically touch you. And with that some kind of connection, it becomes a shared world. Though that’s usually only in Fixed circles. Not many druggies know about my Zeek—the only good thing that happens to me when I’m on it. He only appears then, and only then. As far as I know there are just a few people that know of my “so-called” apparition. But lately some can sense my world somehow, the world I’ve created on the drug. I’m not sure why, but the more I see Zeek, the stronger he gets. And the more people can feel him near me.
After darting up to the school entrance, we make it inside before the first bell rings. I can just about throw up at any moment, but I manage to hold it all in.
We race to our lockers as Rose starts to split ways from there. “Keep your eyes open, Pen. Remember, don’t fall asleep,” she says, slowly walking away as my back’s turned.
“I can’t. I won’t,” I tell her. Cramming my book-bag in my locker, I swivel back to tell her the same, but she’s already disappeared.
I slam the locker door shut and that’s when it all starts to kick in. Suddenly, I can almost see inside my head—snippets of memories floating around like tiny dust particles in the air. The little feathery fibers drift about, distracting me somewhat as I head to class. Once I clear them away, (or try to at least) my senses rise like an ascending elevator. I smell the burnt meatloaf and taste the soupy mashed potatoes lingering on my lips from the cafeteria that’s way on the other side of school. The sounds of students walking through the halls vibrate in my bones. And the high and low volumes of conversations bounce off the walls. But I will myself to tune them out.
I look down at my arms, feeling the drug strengthen my limbs. With every step I take, muscles in my legs tighten. I’m literally flowing to homeroom, yet not a soul notices in the sea of students that litter the halls.
Once the pill kicks in more, I change the atmosphere from the early Monday morning light to a pale blue moonlit glow. It’s like wearing sunglasses. And instead of the principal’s announcements over the intercom, I tune my mind into an alternative station, drowning out all the school’s chatter. I glide through the halls like a ghost, softly listening to the music in my mind as if they’re headphones plugged into my ears and finally get inside first period homeroom.
Zeek starts to form in the corner of the room. Dark shadows of a slender young male appear. There’s only one student that can remotely detect that there’s a certain other presence in the room.
There’s been talk that I have this “imaginary friend” and everyone seems threatened by it. How that supposedly got out is beyond me. Most kids never even pay attention to half the things going on in school anyway, so what difference does it make? It still bugs me who blabbed on me. Other than my close friends, there’s only one person here that knows pretty much everything—Walker. That’s why I don’t share my world with many others. I don’t trust them. Most if not all the students here are a bunch a Goddamn losers anyway.
Already he’s eyeing me up from the front row—Walker that is.
“Don’t,” he softly scolds me as I walk passed him, all the while trying to avoid his staking-eye, stare down. “Remember what happened before…just don’t do it.”
“Shhh,” I whisper back. “Just leave me alone.”
I wave him off as he gives me one last look of disapproval before glancing away.
I try to be as cautious as possible. Yet it’s extremely hard to sense whose watching and who’s not since everyone can see differently when they’re on Fix—just as everyone sees differently in real life. I just don’t think there’s much of a threat here, though, I don’t know everything. Other than Walker, the rest have no idea what I sense. No one sees what I can see, not even Walker. They’re my eyes damnit! But then again since those couple of times in the circle, he’s known even more about Zeek—him amongst other things. And from the looks of it, he’s suspicious yet again.
Zeek’s dark shadows continue to form and turn into pale flesh tones. I softly signal to him to wait, to listen to me and not my racing heart. That should slow the process—hopefully.
If I could just make time slow down, then I’d be ready to escape.
Five minutes more till freedom, then I could finally talk to him, take him away from here—tell him the truth. I need to tell him the only reason he exists is because of me. And only when I’m on Fix.
This will be our last time together. I need to stop this madness. Get my life straight, before the drug screws up my life for good.
He’s there, standing in the corner of the room—still, silent, waiting. The teacher continues to scribble on the chalkboard seemingly oblivious to the changes I’ve made, as are all the students pretty much too—everyone but Walker. His cautious eyes poison me with a look a dread. I can’t help but think Walker’s jealous of Zeek. Why I don’t know. For Christ sake, he isn’t even real.
Walker and I have been best friends forever it seems, until we both got wrapped up in Fix. Then everything changed between us. I could just feel the resentment in Walker’s eyes when he looks at me. It hurts—more then he’ll ever really know. I wish I could change that dreadful day when we both decided to take the drug. But it’s much too late for that now.
Zeek’s long dark, wavy hair nestles around his porcelain face as black symbols draw deep into the fine lines of his skin. It’s the branded symbols that shows he isn’t real—a tattooing of sorts. But I see that Zeek’s getting stronger every time I’m with him. I’m beginning to notice a new etching on him whenever we’re together. I wonder how much more I can control him. That’s why I must tell him, before someone senses how much energy I’ve stored inside him. Or worse, before they actually do start seeing him in real life. Would that even happen? I wouldn’t even have a clue as to what would happen then if I couldn’t control that. It pains me to think about it. It truly scares me. With this severe crisis that continues to rule me within, I feel in utter turmoil.
I raise my hand to be excused. The teacher nods “okay” and gives me a bathroom pass. And once it turns nine, I get up and start to walk towards the door. From the corner of my eye, I see that Zeek’s trailing not too far behind.
Once we get out and into the halls, he looks at me with loving eyes, still waiting for my every command on what to do and where to go next.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I tell him, softly. “Just stay close and follow me.”
“Just do it!” Rosario demands, while we creep around the school grounds like two lost rats looking for shelter.
“I swear Penelope, I know you want to,” she continues, both of us standing under the graffiti-covered bleachers for whatever warmth we can capture.
Rose’s thick chestnut hair waves like a flag in the high winds. She’s shivering, trying desperately not to drop the tiny, round pill in her hand. I think if I look hard enough I’ll start to see my reflection in its slick black casing— like it’s telling me to take it. “Let me in, let me in,” it’s saying.
Rose crouches with her anorexic frame and starts to lose it. She rocks back and forth like that’s going to massively speed up time. I notice her delicate skin transforming from its natural cameral color, to a paler tan. Whatever antlike thing that’s bugging through her veins, makes her jittery body all the much more unbearable to watch. Obviously she’s been on it before. That’s a given.
I cheat her one hard look, like I am finally ready to blow the whistle on me yearning to quit. But I haven’t been there in days and I miss him miserably. The only way I can see him again is if I ingest it. I need to tell Zeek the truth this time.
“I’m so fuckin’ serious, Pen. Mine’s kickin’ in now, so make your God damn mind up already.” She pulls my left hand out and plunks the black rain-drop pill into my palm. Already it’s clinging to me like some magnetic force as it situates itself in the very center of my hand. It wants to get in, like pronto. I know it. I can just feel it start to melt within into the fine lines of my fingerprints. I wonder for a split second if I wait too long, will it totally disintegrate into my pores and get into my system regardless of my choice? Maybe now’s not the time to tell her I’m done. Then again would it really hurt to take it just one more time? After over-analyzing myself and watching Rosario do a dippy dance, I chicken out about kickin’ it and bring the pill to my mouth and pop it in like candy. What the fuck, might as well.
I let it rest in the middle of my mouth like an oyster clamped onto its pearl. Rose tugs me again—this time at my parka and pulls my arm. The gel-like covering dissolves quickly as the liquid center begins to seep down my throat. I could spit out the polluted shot at any moment, but Rose would have a shit fit if I waste any, so I swallow the sloshing juice and try to calm myself down. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
I look at Rose and see her irises cloud into a subtle yellow. It spreads over her normal green tones. I still can’t understand how she gets away with such a sinful infection. No one seems to notice. Why that is, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s her slutty style of charm that escapes her, which I don’t really care for. But every guy seems to love it regardless.
“There, that’s better. Now I can see everything,” she grinningly says, scanning with her newly drugged-up eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Are you sure you wanna do this, Rose?” I ask her, hoping she’ll change her mind and want to ditch. I seriously can’t face those fuckheads that go to our school. “I don’t want to be a repeat offender,” I urge again.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me, smiling an almost believable smile as her teeth chatter between each word. “Nothing’s gonna happen, I promise.”
“How do you know that, Rose? I mean, think about it. The whole school had to be evacuated last time. We could have gotten expelled.” Like that matters to her anyway. I don’t know why, but it matters to me.
“It’s cool, come on now, let’s go have some fun!” Rose insists.
We urgently jog towards the school. Clearly, she’s excited now since she’s higher than a damn kite. I suppose I would be too if I got all that driving attention. Then again…no. Not even sure why a pretty girl like Rosario Rodriguez would want to hang out with someone like me. I mean, we are complete opposites. She has this long lusty hair, while I keep mine short and butchered, changing it every chance I can get. She wears all the hip clothes, whereas I’m more the grunge girl with thrift shop clothes such as flannels and simple jeans. Shit. I’m not even lucky enough to see a penny to pick up to buy things like that anyway.
Rose continues to wickedly laugh as we pick up speed through the football field now to get to the front doors. “This is a riot,” she laughs again. “You should see what I’m seeing.”
Each person has their own unique experience while they’re on it. And no one really knows what the other is truly experiencing unless they physically touch you. And with that some kind of connection, it becomes a shared world. Though that’s usually only in Fixed circles. Not many druggies know about my Zeek—the only good thing that happens to me when I’m on it. He only appears then, and only then. As far as I know there are just a few people that know of my “so-called” apparition. But lately some can sense my world somehow, the world I’ve created on the drug. I’m not sure why, but the more I see Zeek, the stronger he gets. And the more people can feel him near me.
After darting up to the school entrance, we make it inside before the first bell rings. I can just about throw up at any moment, but I manage to hold it all in.
We race to our lockers as Rose starts to split ways from there. “Keep your eyes open, Pen. Remember, don’t fall asleep,” she says, slowly walking away as my back’s turned.
“I can’t. I won’t,” I tell her. Cramming my book-bag in my locker, I swivel back to tell her the same, but she’s already disappeared.
I slam the locker door shut and that’s when it all starts to kick in. Suddenly, I can almost see inside my head—snippets of memories floating around like tiny dust particles in the air. The little feathery fibers drift about, distracting me somewhat as I head to class. Once I clear them away, (or try to at least) my senses rise like an ascending elevator. I smell the burnt meatloaf and taste the soupy mashed potatoes lingering on my lips from the cafeteria that’s way on the other side of school. The sounds of students walking through the halls vibrate in my bones. And the high and low volumes of conversations bounce off the walls. But I will myself to tune them out.
I look down at my arms, feeling the drug strengthen my limbs. With every step I take, muscles in my legs tighten. I’m literally flowing to homeroom, yet not a soul notices in the sea of students that litter the halls.
Once the pill kicks in more, I change the atmosphere from the early Monday morning light to a pale blue moonlit glow. It’s like wearing sunglasses. And instead of the principal’s announcements over the intercom, I tune my mind into an alternative station, drowning out all the school’s chatter. I glide through the halls like a ghost, softly listening to the music in my mind as if they’re headphones plugged into my ears and finally get inside first period homeroom.
Zeek starts to form in the corner of the room. Dark shadows of a slender young male appear. There’s only one student that can remotely detect that there’s a certain other presence in the room.
There’s been talk that I have this “imaginary friend” and everyone seems threatened by it. How that supposedly got out is beyond me. Most kids never even pay attention to half the things going on in school anyway, so what difference does it make? It still bugs me who blabbed on me. Other than my close friends, there’s only one person here that knows pretty much everything—Walker. That’s why I don’t share my world with many others. I don’t trust them. Most if not all the students here are a bunch a Goddamn losers anyway.
Already he’s eyeing me up from the front row—Walker that is.
“Don’t,” he softly scolds me as I walk passed him, all the while trying to avoid his staking-eye, stare down. “Remember what happened before…just don’t do it.”
“Shhh,” I whisper back. “Just leave me alone.”
I wave him off as he gives me one last look of disapproval before glancing away.
I try to be as cautious as possible. Yet it’s extremely hard to sense whose watching and who’s not since everyone can see differently when they’re on Fix—just as everyone sees differently in real life. I just don’t think there’s much of a threat here, though, I don’t know everything. Other than Walker, the rest have no idea what I sense. No one sees what I can see, not even Walker. They’re my eyes damnit! But then again since those couple of times in the circle, he’s known even more about Zeek—him amongst other things. And from the looks of it, he’s suspicious yet again.
Zeek’s dark shadows continue to form and turn into pale flesh tones. I softly signal to him to wait, to listen to me and not my racing heart. That should slow the process—hopefully.
If I could just make time slow down, then I’d be ready to escape.
Five minutes more till freedom, then I could finally talk to him, take him away from here—tell him the truth. I need to tell him the only reason he exists is because of me. And only when I’m on Fix.
This will be our last time together. I need to stop this madness. Get my life straight, before the drug screws up my life for good.
He’s there, standing in the corner of the room—still, silent, waiting. The teacher continues to scribble on the chalkboard seemingly oblivious to the changes I’ve made, as are all the students pretty much too—everyone but Walker. His cautious eyes poison me with a look a dread. I can’t help but think Walker’s jealous of Zeek. Why I don’t know. For Christ sake, he isn’t even real.
Walker and I have been best friends forever it seems, until we both got wrapped up in Fix. Then everything changed between us. I could just feel the resentment in Walker’s eyes when he looks at me. It hurts—more then he’ll ever really know. I wish I could change that dreadful day when we both decided to take the drug. But it’s much too late for that now.
Zeek’s long dark, wavy hair nestles around his porcelain face as black symbols draw deep into the fine lines of his skin. It’s the branded symbols that shows he isn’t real—a tattooing of sorts. But I see that Zeek’s getting stronger every time I’m with him. I’m beginning to notice a new etching on him whenever we’re together. I wonder how much more I can control him. That’s why I must tell him, before someone senses how much energy I’ve stored inside him. Or worse, before they actually do start seeing him in real life. Would that even happen? I wouldn’t even have a clue as to what would happen then if I couldn’t control that. It pains me to think about it. It truly scares me. With this severe crisis that continues to rule me within, I feel in utter turmoil.
I raise my hand to be excused. The teacher nods “okay” and gives me a bathroom pass. And once it turns nine, I get up and start to walk towards the door. From the corner of my eye, I see that Zeek’s trailing not too far behind.
Once we get out and into the halls, he looks at me with loving eyes, still waiting for my every command on what to do and where to go next.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I tell him, softly. “Just stay close and follow me.”