Young Writers Society

Installment Two

If there is anything in this world to hold onto, it was sleep, John reasoned. Sleep was a time to let go of the day, and embrace the night. Sleep was also a very difficult thing to come by for himself. As many factors as there were to this notion, he could only think of one. It all started with the death of his daughter, two years ago.

It was the damn pool. Always the damn pool. She was obsessed with it, his darling Sarah. Always obsessed with it. It was at his old house, with his old girlfriend. Old memories that were almost gone to him, except for his daughter. 

John had come rocking out of high school, constantly high as fuck, having achieved almost nothing in his life. He met a nice girl named Annie from the outer-edges of their decidedly shitty town, and they had sex. That much was simple, and that much was uncomplicated. Then, like a knife to his throat, his girlfriend began having an affair. After a brutal argument, he kicked her out. But not before she had his child. They juggled with the custody rights, until it was decided John couldn't support his own damn child. So he only got to see her once in a while. A crappy deal that still burned John, as he had almost given up drugs by that time.

In the end, it didn't matter. Annie wasn't watching Sarah, and she got into the pool at their house. The ambulance came, the doctors did their best, but he watched his daughter die. That's why sleep was hard to come by, certainly.

However, that was one idea. The other, much less prominent, also started battering at his damned head. In his city, it was bad news to be followed. He owed his dealer a ton of money, and he knew he would be knifed if he didn't watch his back. So, with that on his mind as well, sleep was a more far off notion than ever before. And if it wasn't someone tailing him at his dealer's instructions, then it was probably something worse. 

Why the hell did sleep matter so much, he constantly questioned. It would be easier to live his life if sleep didn't matter, because he wouldn't feel so damn tired all the time. But that wasn't even the start of his issues. Other things floating around in his head, tormenting him. Annie never got jailed because of her foolishness, and half of the time he debated driving out to his old town to rattle some heads and get her caged up where she couldn't neglect any children. 

However, there was some peace. If he was drugged out, he wasn't thinking about shit. If he wasn't drugged out, he was thinking about how great it was to do drugs. Maybe he got an hour of sleep some nights, sometimes more. Even John knew it wasn't healthy. 

When he woke up the next morning, the first call came. It first came to his mind that the caller was probably one of his friends pulling a prank, because of the ridiculous, raspy voice that emitted from the speaker of his phone.

"John..." it said, "John..."

"Alright, you fuckhead of a friend. Is it you, Jack? I just woke up, damn it!" John said.

There was silence, and then, "Ross Avenue, tonight."  

For two reasons, the situation worsened. For one, John actually considering going. Secondly, if he did, that meant last sleep. Damn it!