Young Writers Society

Rhys leaned his head back against the bricks, his jacket splattered with blood from his nose. He stuffed the baggie of white powder back into his jacket pocket and lit a cigarette with steady hands, staring into the woods behind the gas station blankly as he did so. After a few seconds he lifted his arm, mopping the blood from his nose as best he could with his sleeve.

"Rhys?"

Rhys jumped, saucer-wide eyes snapping upward to look at Leah, who stood over him. She was frowning, concern etched onto her face.

"Your nose is bleeding."

"It's fine," Rhys muttered, hand going back into his pocket and fisting around the bag of dope nervously. Fight the paranoia, Rhys. Just act normal.

"I could have sworn I saw you snort something."

"Go away, Leah."

She bent down and pulled him to his feet, her nails digging into his flesh through the jacket as she did so. She held her hand out expectantly. "Give me."

"Fuck off."

"Give. Me."

With a growl, Rhys dropped the baggie obediently into her waiting palm.

"Get in the car."

Scowling, he followed her to her car. It was a baby blue Subaru, plastered in stickers and political magnets. The side backseat windows were all spray painted with nonsense, relics from her friends back wherever she came from. Eyeing the car curiously, Rhys got in the front passenger seat and looked around. The backseat floorboard was barely visible underneath the sea of empty cigarette packs and empty water bottles. The left backseat was home to a large bomber jacket and Leah's purse. The other half was covered with a tarp, on which rested mud-caked boots and what looked like an EMF device. Rhys' mind was spinning, but he only quietly cocked an eyebrow, saying nothing as Leah got into the car with him and turned over the ignition.

"Don't take me home," Rhys asked her softly. "Ethan will kill me if he sees me high again."

"We're going to my place," she muttered, tossing him some napkins from the pocket in her door. "Clean up your nose."

Rhys took the wad of napkins and pressed them to his nose as instructed, leaning down with his head between his knees.

"Shouldn't you be in school right now?"

"I have better things to do."

"Like get high behind a seedy gas station?"

"Exactly."

Leah muttered something under her breath. Rhys scowled.

"I'm not digging the judge-y vibe I'm getting from you right now."

"I am judging you," Leah agreed. "But only because I've been there, and I know what rock bottom looks like."

Rhys huffed out a laugh. "This is not rock bottom."

"Dude, you're snorting coke off the back of your hand behind a fucking Minit Mart. And tell me you didn't exchange sex for that dope."

"Do you count a blowjob as sex?"

Leah sighed as they got onto the expressway. "Yes, but that's not the most pressing issue with that statement."

"Whatever," Rhys muttered, his mind filling with impatient thunder as he looked out of the window at the blur of trees going past. He was becoming overstimulated even just sitting there, the cocaine seeping through his body and blood like a hungry, insatiable leech. He began to pick the skin on the back of his hand, suddenly desperate for something to keep him busy.

"You can't keep doing this, Rhys."

"Why do people keep telling me that?" Rhys snapped. "I'll do whatever the hell I want."

"And kill yourself in the process," Leah retorted smoothly, not taking her eyes off the road. "I've seen it happen, Rhys. I don't want to see it happen to you."

"I've got my shit under control."

"Dude, Minit Mart." They pulled into the apartment complex parking lot. Leah parked the car and Rhys opened his door, stumbling as he got out. The floor was getting closer too fast, and he hit the pavement shoulder-first with a soft groan.

"Pathetic," Leah muttered, shaking her head and walking past him as he peeled himself off the pavement. Rhys got to his feet and followed, sending out a thanks to whatever god might be out there that Leah lived on the first floor. Leah kicked her shoes off the second they were inside, gesturing for Rhys to sit on the couch as she went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

"How many lines did you do?"

"Four, five?" Rhys shrugged, leaning into the crease of the couch. "Not that much."

Leah rolled her eyes, shuffling into the living room and plopping into the chair next to the fireplace, her toe ring glinting in the light of the flames. Rhys watched it for a moment, melting into the couch cushions.

"Breathe, Rhys."

Rhys awoke with a small jerk, gazing around blearily. Night had fallen, leaving the room lit only by the dim side tables' lamps. Rhys sucked in a strangled breath, wiping at the crusted blood under his nose with his sleeve.

"What happened?" he mumbled, gazing at Leah who was crouched near him, eyes wide with concern.

"You fell asleep," she said softly. "And then I think...you had a nightmare."

Rhys sat up slowly, shaking the remnants of his dreams away. He had to stop thinking about him, stop letting him invade everything. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she said softly, handing him the glass of water that was sitting on the coffee table. Rhys took it and drank half of it with surprising ease. Leah had a strange look on her face.

"What?"

"You just...said a lot of things in your sleep.

Panic rose in Rhys' chest but he forced himself to breathe evenly, keeping his composure calm as he met her gaze steadily. "Yeah, I have some pretty wild dreams sometimes."

"Okay," she nodded quietly, deciding not to press the issue. "Just...I'm here, um, if you ever need to...talk."

Shit, Rhys thought. Fuck. What in the hell did I fucking say?

He heard the rev of Ethan's Camaro and looked up as the headlights shone through the apartment window. He knew Leah must've texted him, but for once, he was grateful to see his brother. When there was a sharp knock on the door, he got up and answered it.

"You," Ethan jabbed a finger at him. "Car. Now."

Rhys didn't argue, shuffling past his brother and practically running to the car. He dove into it, shutting the door behind him.

Ethan lingered, holding out a ten-dollar bill. "Thanks for looking out for him."

"I don't need that," Leah waved the money away, looking at Ethan softly. "Has he um...been through anything?"

Ethan's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"He just...said some things, in his sleep," Leah bit her lip. "About...stuff."

She shifted from one foot the other, her gaze flickering downward. Ethan was just confused.

"What do you mean, Leah?"

"Just," she shook her head. "Talk to him. About it."

Ethan's frown deepened as he stared at her apartment door for a moment. He turned around and went to the Camaro, watching his little brother as he climbed in and turned over the ignition. Rhys was sitting cross-legged, picking at the skin of his hand until he was bleeding.

"Stop that," Ethan told him, reaching over and clamping his hand over Rhys'.

"Sorry," Rhys muttered absently, still staring out of the window.

"Rhys," Ethan sighed softly. "Talk to me. What is Leah talking about? In your nightmare?"

"Nothing," Rhys said automatically, turning to look at him.

"Rhys - "

"We aren't talking about it," Rhys snapped, his voice so loud it filled the entire car. "Just shut up, Ethan."

Ethan blinked. It was usual for Rhys to be snappy and overall bratty, but not to that extent, especially when sober. Whatever it was, it was serious - especially, Ethan realised, for Rhys to not tell him about it in the first place.

The drive home was another silent one, the tension between them so thick it could be cut with a dull knife. Rhys had gone back to skin picking, tearing open several wounds so that his entire hand was red with blood. Ethan was too preoccupied by his thoughts to notice, his mind going through every possibility of what Rhys' secret could be. Before either of them knew it, they were pulling into the house's driveway.

Rhys got out of the car and padded into the house and up the stairs to his room without a word. He pushed his blanket to the side, spreading out on his back and staring at the ceiling. His entire skin was crawling, and he could feel him watching from the corner of the room. It was like lead weighed down his entire body, his lungs like marble and heavy within his chest. He struggled to breath, feeling invisible fingers crawl along his body, ghosts of past secrets, reminders of wandering hands that grabbed him whenever he walked Roseman's halls. He sat up, getting everything out from under his mattress and shooting up only minutes later. Satisfied with the resulting numbness, he turned off the bedroom light and spread out on his back once more, putting in his earbuds. He picked his best playlist - 'concrete insides' - and put the volume on full, closing his eyes against the room's darkness.

He wasn't sure how much time passed like that, but he had gone through the full playlist twice by the time the opening of his bedroom door flooded his room with light and announced Ethan's arrival. He didn't bother opening his eyes, sighing when the edge of the bed dipped with the weight of Ethan sitting on it. A beat or so passed. With another, louder sigh Rhys took out his headphones, opening his eyes reluctantly. Ethan was staring at him.

"What?"

"Dinner?" Ethan asked gently, reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp. The room was bathed in a soft blue glow. "We can go anywhere you want."

"Not hungry."

"You're never hungry," Ethan pressed. "C'mon, that bowl of cereal this morning was the first real thing I've seen you eat in days."

"Not hungry."

Ethan sighed, letting a minute of silence pass between them. Rhys sat up, waiting.

"I think you should go back to therapy."

Rhys felt himself deflate and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was not high enough for this conversation. He wasn't high enough in general, the numbness that had overtaken him since shooting up fading to an overall dull sensation.

"I don't need therapy."

"You've only used like this when you're...seeing things."

"I'm fine," Rhys muttered, putting his phone to the side and pulling his knees to his chest. He stared at the stretch of bare mattress between them.

"Well, are you taking your medication?"

Rhys reached over, rifling through the bedside drawer until he produced a half-empty prescription bottle. He thrust it at his brother. Ethan examined it for a moment, then got up and went to the potted plant standing in the corner of the room. He bent over, digging in the soil with his fingers until he uncovered a scattered pile of round white pills. He turned to his brother with an arched eyebrow, tossing the prescription bottle back to Rhys.

"I'm not stupid, Rhys. I know your tricks."

"It's fine, Ethan. I don't need them."

"Are you seeing him again?"

Rhys was quiet, picking at a loose thread of his quilt. He was biting at his lip so hard it bled again.

"Rhys - "

"Can't you just - " Rhys sighed. "Leave me alone, Ethan."

The two brothers stared at each other from across the room for several moments. Rhys felt his entire body turning limp. Eventually, Ethan caved, leaving the room without saying anything. Rhys got up and closed the door behind him, seeing shadow men out of the corners of his eyes as he dug under his mattress for his kit. This one was different than the one from earlier; it was nothing but a rolled up dollar bill, a piece of scorched tinfoil and a lighter. Retrieving the baggie of dope, he sat cross legged on his bed and poured a bit of the powder into the crease of the foil. The dollar bill was perched like a makeshift straw between his lips as he ran the lighter underneath the foil and began to inhale the smoke coming off of the burning heroin. The edges around his mind softened, everything blurring together in a loving swirl. Putting the kit back into the case, he put it back under the mattress and switched off the lamp, plunging himself once again into darkness.