The Certainty of Violet & Luke(86)

Striding over to the window, I pry it open and pop the screen off. Tossing it onto the floor, I lean over the edge and look down the two-story drop to the wooden fence right below the window. It’s not that far of a fall, but if I land on the fence things could go badly, like one of the pieces of wood could get lodged in my body or I could land the wrong way and hit my neck or head on it. They’re such morbid thoughts, but my mind always goes to that dark place. The what-ifs of death. Those random occurrences that no one can control. Most of my life has been based on one random occurrence of death.

I know if I jump, either I’ll safely land on the grass just over the fence or I’ll mess up and get hurt, maybe even killed if random occurrences really hate me. Either way, I don’t care what the hell happens to me, so I climb up onto the windowsill, letting destiny take over as I slide my legs over the edge. I hear the lock on the door click and open. My time here at this place is up.

My heart speeds up and I breathe in the rush of knowing that something tragic could happen to me. It makes me feel alive and without any hesitation, I jump.





Luke


(Freshman year of college)


My night has been filled with shot after shot. Empty glass after empty glass. I knock back one after another as the sound of the music vibrates inside my chest. With each scorching swallow of Bacardi, tequila, J?ger, I feel more at ease, letting all my worries and the fact that I haven’t checked my insulin slowly erase from my mind. My tongue becomes numb. My lips. My body. My heart. My mind. It’s a f*cking beautiful state of mind to be in and I wish I could never leave it—most days I don’t.

After I lose count of how many shots I’ve downed and how many asses I’ve had grind up against me, I ditch the club with the woman I’ve been dancing with for the last two songs, debating what to do—f*ck, wander around, go find a place to gamble. There’s a familiar burn inside my chest as I drown in a sea of alcohol, where nothing bothers me. I relax and breathe the cool night air and just exist without all the weight of my past inside me. I’ve been drinking more frequently, especially since my past has been forcing its way into my life again. Stuff’s been happening with my sister, Amy, specifically questions about her suicide that happened eight years ago. I thought it’d been put to rest, but it was brought up a month or so ago, questions mainly about what really drove her to throw herself off the roof that night. Plus, on top of it, my dad’s decided he wants to become a huge part of my life again, after being pretty much absent since I was five. It’s bullshit and I don’t want to think about it or deal with it. I just want to get trashed, f*ck as many women as I can, and live my life the way that I want to.

I lose track of how much time has gone but somewhere along the lines I stop walking and end up with my back against the tree. I’m not aware of too much going on but there are three things I’m sure of: (a) It’s nighttime, since I can see the stars, (b) I feel very relaxed and in control at the moment, and (c) there’s a blonde kneeling down in front of me with her mouth on my cock.

I have a fistful of her hair as she sucks me off, muttering something incoherent every once and a while. As she moves her mouth back and forth I feel myself verging closer to exploding and I let myself go as I approach it. It’s the only few moments of peace that I have, where I don’t have to think about the past, the future, just the God damn moment. Once I’m done, though, the silence of the night tears at my chest as there’s nothing left to do but think. I’m back to that place where my past and who I am haunts me. The only thing that gets me through is the fact that my body is numbed by the potent amount of alcohol in my bloodstream.

I zip up my pants as the blonde gets back up to her feet. She mutters something about that being amazing, biting her lip as she tracks her fingers up my chest, looking like she’s waiting for me to return the favor. I’m not going to, though. I only do things for myself and no one else. I spent too much time when I was younger living under restrictions, never living for myself, never enjoying things, and I refuse to go back to that place again.

I shove her hand off and head down the sidewalk, hoping she’ll just stay behind. But she follows, her high heels clicking against the concrete as she rushes to keep up.

“God, it’s such a beautiful night,” she says with a contented sigh.

“If you say so,” I say. “Don’t you need to go back to the club and catch a ride home?”

“You said you were going to take me home,” she reminds me, rushing to keep up with me.