The Destiny of Violet and Luke(13)

There’s a party going on in one of the townhouses nearby and music booms and vibrates the ground. We’re walking in the ritzier side of town, made up of two-story townhouses, the yards matching, and the sidewalk is lined with trees and a fence. I’m not even sure how I got here, nor do I know the way back to my dorm. Sometimes I wonder how the hell I get into these messes.

I really need to stop drinking.

I laugh at my own absurd thought as I stop to retrieve my cigarettes from my shirt pocket. The only time I can actually deal with the chaotic aspects of life is when I’m drunk, otherwise I panic for some structure. I never had structure when I was a kid. I had a crazy mom who did crazy shit and dragged me into her crazy world, making me feel crazy with her. I still have nightmares about some of the stuff I saw or heard her do and I need order, otherwise the vile, sick feeling I experienced when I was a kid owns me.

I pop a cigarette into my mouth and light the end with a lighter I dig out of the back pocket of my jeans. I light the end, deeply inhale, and blow out a cloud of smoke. I start walking again, zigzagging back and forth between the sidewalk and the grass just to the side of it, running into the fence a few times

“Where are we going?” the blonde asks as she tugs on the bottom of her dress, hurrying to keep up with me.

I graze my thumb on the end of the cigarette and ash it onto the ground. “I’m going to my place.”

“That’s cool,” she says with a slight slur to her speech, not taking my not-so-subtle hint. “We can just walk wherever.”

She doesn’t look that drunk and she only drank girly fruity drinks at the club, but her voice is portraying otherwise. She’s putting a lot of trust in me at the moment, to get her wherever it is she’s going and whatever it is she’s looking for. Maybe sex. The best orgasm of her life. A fleeting escape from reality. Maybe she’s looking for love or someone she can connect with. From the needy, I’ll-do-anything-you-want look in her eyes, I’m guessing it’s the latter. And if it is, she’s not going to get it from me.

I consider my two options. I can take her back behind a tree again and just bang the shit out of her until she’s crying out my name and I get a few more moments away from the helpless, drowning feeling inside me—get the control I need. Or I can call my friend and roommate, Kayden, to come pick my drunken ass up, because I’m getting exhausted.

I’m battling my indecisiveness when I hear this strange swooshing sound coming from above me. I look up just in time to see something tumble out the window of the townhouse we’re passing.

I stagger back onto the grass as it falls toward me and stick out my arm out to push Blondie back. The tips of a pair of clunky boots clip my forehead and I stumble over my feet as something lands on the grass in front of me and rolls down the shallow incline toward the sidewalk.

“What the hell,” Blondie says as she rolls her ankle and her foot slips out of her shoe. She quickly works to fix her hair, smoothing her hands over it.

Catching my breath, I shake my head, which is going to hurt like hell in the morning when I sober up. Usually when I’m this wasted my heart goes still, but my pulse has forced its way through the multiple shots I hammered back and suddenly I feel sober.

Blowing out a tense breath, I focus on whatever the hell just fell from the window as I mentally tell my heart rate to shut the f*ck up. At first I think I’m seeing things, so I blink my eyes a few times at the… person… a girl lying on her back, groaning as she clutches her ankle.

“God damn it… that hurt,” she moans, rolling to her side.

My heart is still racing and I move my hand toward my mouth to take a drag, hoping nicotine will settle it down but realize I’ve lost my cigarette somewhere. “Shit, are you okay?” I drag my fingers through my cropped brown hair as I glance up at the window she fell from, then back at her, wondering if I should help her up or something.

She releases a grunting breath as she gets up on her hands and knees and pushes to her feet. Her legs wobble as she gets to her feet, then she limps forward, trying not to put weight on her right ankle. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice is tight, and normally I’d back off from her leave-me-the-f*ck-alone attitude, but she just fell out of a f*cking window and a painful sense of déjà vu hits me square in the chest as I wonder if Amy fell the same way.

“Did you hurt your foot or something?” I follow after her as she limps down the sidewalk. Blondie calls out that she can’t find her shoe, but I ignore her, walking after the girl. I’m not even one-hundred-percent sure why other than I’m worried she might be hurt or that she might have been trying to hurt herself on purpose, like my sister Amy did, only she never walked away from it.