LILLIANA

This mind of mine betrays me, containing a darkness that only allows me to sink deeper. Every time I think I've hit the bottom...rock bottom...I soon find that life always gets darker, worse and worse by each slow passing day.

For me anyway.

My time is mostly filled by remembering to breathe correctly, being advised that doing so might help my anxiety. I used to daydream a lot, somewhere along the way I lost that ability as well as many others.

Fantasizing about what my life could be got quickly replaced by a simple disconnect from myself and the world. I find it easier to completely fade away into that void of my mind. An acceptance is what happened; I gave in.

This applied to every part of my daily choices.

I gave into partying; drugs, alcohol, and a constant daze. I gave into sex, not putting much thought into whom it was or even where I was doing it.

When a feeling of worthlessness consumes a person as it does me...coping comes easily when you let go of hope, when you let go of every positive thing you were holding onto about yourself.

The dependency on drugs and alcohol grew fast, almost over night. Once I knew I realized there was a way to feel nothing at all...I'd do almost anything to just get high or drunk, both is the most ideal.

Which is how I find myself at a party...

Rummaging through a strangers drawers and closet in their massive bedroom.

I normally wouldn't do something like this; steal someone's drugs. Though desperate times cause for desperate measures...and since my dealer, Maverick, was arrested a couple days ago, this is most definitely a desperate time.

It's been an agonizing twelve hours. I've spent three months beautifully high and aloof. I thought I'd be able to handle it, the few days Maverick would be in jail, but at the sixth hour, I knew that wouldn't be possible. 

"Is there a reason you're searching my room?"

I don't even pay the person a glance over my shoulder as I continue my digging. Instead I just answer bluntly, "I'm depressed and desperate."

A husky chuckle sounds from behind me, making the hairs on my arms raise. It makes me slow my movements, only slightly.

"Well..." He begins. "In my bedroom, door unlocked, and at least a hundred people in the house...I doubt this would be the place to find it."

I roll my eyes, stopping to turn around and face the stranger. The dresser drawer slams as I shut in the same motion.

My mouth is opened to speak but nothing comes out as the man in his early twenties stands in the doorway, nonchalantly leaning against its frame. He has a dark, full beard and mustache, a mop of dark brown, almost black curls on top of his head and hazel eyes. His features are mature, rigid to match his broad shoulders and muscular frame. He wears a long sleeved black shirt and black pants and the same colored shoes.

When my eyes meet his, I notice the amusement in them, making me cover up my gawking with a scowl.

"You're at a party. Why not ask around instead of steal?" He questions, raising an eyebrow.

"People know a lot of things about me, but that's not one of them." I answer quickly with sternness in my tone, telling him without telling him to not mention our meeting.

"You think it's hard to tell?"

His response angers me for some reason, making me narrow my eyes and retort; "You don't know me."

The man shrugs. "I don't think I have to. You've been here a few times now, not that you'd remember, and I must tell you...the eye drops aren't doing anything."

"Get out of my way." I say through clenched teeth.

A smile spreads across his face, the exact opposite of what I was intending. "But then how would you get your drugs?" He asks, challenging me to deny him. He retrieves a baggie from his pocket.

My eyes dart between the pills and his face, itching to get my hands on it. By his expression, I can tell he's aware of how badly I'm aching.

"You worry me, Liliana."

My eyebrows draw together as he says my name. How does he know who I am?

"Most people do these at parties, for one night. You know; recreationally." He goes on. "You have a real problem."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I give an exaggerated sigh. "Stop fucking with me. Are you going to give me some or is this a lecture?"

"Of course I'm going to give you some." He says as if I should've known that all along. He collects some pills in his hand. "For some, I provide pure happiness. For others, I help fuck up their lives." He pulls his hand out from inside the bag, now looking at me again. "You just let me know when you're ready to climb out of this hole you've dug yourself."

No one has ever talked to me like this. Everyone at school either wants to be my friend or fuck me. I don't mean to sound conceited, it's just true. Most guys are overly nice, trying their hardest to get my attention. This guy seems indifferent, unaffected by my appearance and presence.

This makes me all the more curious about the guy. He's right; I don't remember coming to this house once. Like he said as well: it's not like I would. My memory is completely ruined. I'd definitely remember him if I had ever seen him before though. I tend not to pay any mind to what's going on around me.

What does this even matter? I just need to take a pill.

The man approaches me, grabbing the bottle of vodka from the nightstand before coming to stand only a step away from me, forcing me to raise my head to keep the eye contact going. It's like he's repeatedly daring me to be the first to look away, although it's totally okay when he does it first.

I know this trick...he's controlling the situation. This is probably what he does no matter what he's doing or who it's with. He does it very naturally, asserting whose role is what without actually saying it.

"Take this one." He holds the pill out between his thumb and index finger, keeping the rest in his fist. "The rest you can save."

I take the pill from him, not even bothering to ask what it is before placing it on my tongue. I wash it down with the vodka he handed me.

Letting out an audible sigh of relief, shoulders sagging, I can feel him watching me. But I don't care, all I can is relax after spending so long trying to figure out how to get some without exposing myself.

Maverick is a close friend of mine. I've known him since we were little. Our moms were friends when they got pregnant, only a month apart from each other, so Maverick and I practically grew up together. When he first started selling drugs, I was at a different place in life and was totally against it. We were only fifteen then and all I could think about was the possibility of him being sent to a detention center, away from me.

He's the only person that knows everything about me, good and bad. As I began to venture out into making my own bad choices this year, I became less and less against him selling. That of course, turned into me asking to try it and him swearing he'd never tell anyone.

"You know what...just take the rest of these."

I come back to reality, watching as he puts the pills that are in his palm back inside the bag before zipping it up.

Not making any move to take it, I shake my head. "I can't afford that much at once. There's at least ten pills in there."

"I said to just take it."

"Why?"

"Is this not what you wanted?"

"But why for free?" I stand firm on my question.

"I just witnessed you create an entirely new comfort zone in a foreign room, after simply taking a drug." He explains. "You'll kill yourself without these."

Killing myself isn't a thought I'm unfamiliar with. I'm a waste of space...pretty but not worth a penny.

I've convinced everyone else in my life that I'm happy, that I'm okay. Why is he able to predict these things about me without us having even one previous conversation?

I hesitantly take the bag, still curious if he's joking or not. Once it has officially swapped hands, I stuff it in my back pocket.

The effects of the pill come quicker than I'm used to, but I don't question it, just like I didn't question the pill. My body begins to hum as my mind begins to free, making space for the stranger before me.

Who is he? Why do I feel like he's going to play such an important role in my life already? And I don't even know his name. Why is his presence so intoxicating? Drugs, it has to be the drugs.

"Stop staring at me, Liliana." He orders, snapping me out of it, making me literally jump. "And get out of my room."

I rush past the taunting, smiling man, shoulders brushing in the process. Once the door swings closed behind me, I stop for a moment, collecting my thoughts of what just happened.

What the hell does he want from me? No one just hands over something like that. What does he know and not know about me? There has to be a scheme.

"Where have you been?!" Kennedy asks over enthusiastically, putting a hand on my arm and leaning into it. "We were about to come looking for you."

Being that I was gone ten minutes, if I had found myself in a bad spot, they would've been too late.

Kennedy and I have been friends since middle school. I introduced her to Maverick and she introduced us to Quinton and Bella. The five of us hangout a lot, after school, on the weekends, any chance we get really.

Although to an outsider, we appear like a tight knit friend group, I'm completely detached from them, only fitting in because I'm pretty. Realistically, I offer nothing but a fun time when under the influence. If it weren't for Maverick being such a safe space for me, I would've never continued to hangout with the group.

"I just got distracted." I lie.

"As usual." Kennedy giggles, gaining one from Bella. Quinton just stands there, oblivious and uncaring about my whereabouts. He pours everyone more drinks, passing them around.

The rest of the night, I spent feeling that stranger watching me from whatever blind spots he's been hiding in. I didn't see him a single time in between the time I exited his room and went back to Kennedy's house.

That made him weigh even heavier on my mind.