Monster

Inhale. Hold it. Feeling the slight burn at the back of my throat brings me a sick form of comfort. In some sad way, I know that what I am doing will bring me relief and a glimpse into what happiness feels like. Inhale again. The smoke burns more as in travels deeper into my lungs. Just as I feel I can’t wait any longer, I exhale, releasing the smoke from my lips. The small bit of white smoke travels from my mouth and into the air. It’s almost calming to watch smoke travel throughout, taking on many forms before it disappears forever. Peaceful. Glancing down at my phone, I see that its nearing midnight. Fuck. One more hit and I’ll go home. Even though deep down I know I will end up taking 3. What can I say? Weed is a hell of a pain killer.

The first time I saw my mother snort cocaine off our kitchen counter was the same day I turned 6 years old. Well, that’s the first time I can remember, anyways. My mom has been getting high since she was a kid. I guess I can’t judge her too harshly, after all I’m doing the same thing. My mom, Gianna, is a walking advertisement of why you shouldn’t do drugs. Her dirty blonde hair is stringy and greasy all the time, matted to hell. Brown eyes that are constantly bloodshot and dilated. And to top it all off, her small 5’4 frame looks more like a skeleton than a person. Gianna got pregnant with me, my great guy of a father couldn’t handle her and ditched us. Soon enough, I came into the world and was instantly hated by my mother. She blames me for my father leaving and for whatever else she can think of. I don’t blame my father for leaving her, but it does make him a total asshole. She never talks about him, so I have no idea what his name is, what he looks like, anything.

I tried weed for the first time when I was 12 years old. It was actually my stepbrother, T.J., who introduced me to it. T.J., which stands for Tieran Jacobi, has lived with my mom and I since his dad left him. Pretty standard asshole dad case. His father, Howie, dated my mom for a couple years, moved in with us and everything. One day, his constant fighting with Gianna got really bad and he just up and left. Never seen him since and that was over 3 years ago. T.J. is like the brother I never had, and when stuff at home got really bad, he introduced me to my favorite thing ever, pot. I remember when I took my first hit and coughed all of it back up while T.J. laughed his ass off. When T.J. was still in high school, he would bring girl after girl after girl back home with him. Teasing them was one of my favorite things to do at the time. At 6’1, T.J. was a looker, and he knew it. His stormy grey eyes and light brown hair made every girl in our school drool at the sight of him. Not me though, T.J. has always been, and always will be, my unofficial stepbrother.

As I walk over to my friends, I stop and look at my reflection in a puddle of water. At 5’4, I have a very petite frame, but that’s not to say I can’t hold my own when I need to. As I stare into my emerald green eyes, emptiness stares back at me. Not even my dirty blonde hair is able to brighten up my face. All I can think about is how much I hate looking like my mom and how much I really want to take another hit off my pipe.

“Zay! You want another hit?” My friend Cora asks. Cora is one of those people who is calm all the time. Like, no matter what happens, she will be sitting, totally stress free. Then again, she is also high 98% of the time so that probably has something to do with it. Her brown eyes and grey hair compliment her slightly curvy figure well enough. Nodding my head, I make my way over to her, taking one last fleeting look at myself in the puddle before stepping in it, causing ripples to shoot through the previously still water.

Reaching for the pipe from her, I take the lighter out of my back pocket and light it up. I’ve gotten pretty good and holding my breath over the years and can hold my smoke in for a pretty decent amount of time. Over time, I have found that the smell of weed brings me a simple comfort I can’t seem to find anywhere else. When my mom wasn’t there, weed was. After I exhale, I hand her back the red and white glass-blown pipe. It really was a piece of art, in its own regard. “I should be getting back home. Thanks for this. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask Cora, unsure of what to say. Most people aren’t afraid to speak, aren’t afraid of saying the wrong thing, don’t have a problem with coming up with things to say, but I’m not most people.

“Sure thing, bye Zay!” Cora replies. I’m thankful that Cora uses my nickname instead of my full name. I hate saying my full first name just about as much as T.J. does. Zay stands for Zaylabelle, which I absolutely despise. Its like my mom couldn’t decide on just one first name, so she combined 3 of them into one. T.J. teases me all the time by calling me by my full name or the shortened version – Belle. Hate being called that too. People should really just stick with Zay.

Walking home, the last hit really starts to get to me. Just as I reach my front door, I am barley able to walk straight ad my vision is starting to blur a bit. I look around as best I can. Making sure no one followed me this far. I don’t live in the best part of town, as I’m sure you could have guessed, and I don’t feel like getting into an altercation tonight. After walking through our creaky old white front door, I lock the deadbolt and 3 door locks and head to my room. Plugging in my phone to charge, I see the time is currently 1:25 am. Well shit, I was out pretty late. Closing my eyes, I ride out the rest of my high into blissful sleep.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Oh hell no. It is way too early for this. Shutting off my alarm on my phone, I close my eyes and go back to peaceful, blissful, sleep. What feels like 5 seconds later, my sleep is interrupted again. I jolt awake as soon as I feel something ice cold touch my abdomen. “What the fuck?!” I look over to see T.J. holding his cup of water against my side, smirking. “Why?” I angrily say to him. He merely smiles more and stands up from the side of my bed. “Get up. You’re late for school.” As-if he has ANY room to talk. He barely graduated just last year. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” I snort at my own comeback just as I see his smirk fade. Oh shit. T.J. grabs onto my ankles as I start screaming at him to let go. “T.J., please! I’m sorry, I’ll get up!” He merely smirks back up at him and then tosses me out of the bed before dumping the rest of his ice-cold water all over me. I take a deep sigh and look up at him. “Was this really necessary?” After laughing at me, he leaves me in peace. Groaning, I get up from my spot on the floor and make my way into the bathroom. I cringe when I see my reflection in the mirror. Opening up the cabinet, I take out a small bottle of pills. Shaking one out into my hand, I stare at it for a second before popping it in my mouth and dry swallowing it. That should at least make school more tolerable.

My school is one that would be considered run down and worn out. None of the teachers actually care much about attendance or grades, but they can be persuaded to pass you if you offer them something good enough. Most of the administration knows I’m late every other day, if I show up at all. At this point, I think I should just get a permanent hall pass so I don’t have to waste anymore time in detention. Walking up to the front desk, I sign my name on the list and wait for the receptionist to write me a pass. Her demeaning looks don’t bother me anymore, I have gotten used to disappointing people and getting the looks from them. You know the ones; they are the looks that scream how much better they are than you.

Once the grey-haired witch hands me my pass, I slowly make my way to my locker. Taking as much time up as I can before I have to head to class. Everybody has their own niche; their own thing that they are good at. While some are naturally good at school, I am naturally good at popping pills and smoking. To each their own, I say. Shutting my locker, I roll my eyes and walk down the beige colored hallways towards my classroom. Facing the door labeled ‘Rm. 209’, I sigh and knock on the door. Footsteps are heard and the door opens to reveal Mr. Sotto, who is old enough to be my grandpa. He looks at me once before grabbing my late pass and continuing the lesson. Like I said, no one really cares here. After listening to him drone on about some assignment, I close my eyes, laying my head on my hoodie sleeve. Just as I was about to doze off, I hear someone angrily clear their throat beside me. I glance up to meet Mr. Sotto’s eyes and frown. Why did he suddenly care I was sleeping in his class? It’s never bothered him before today. “Zayabelle they need you in the office. Please take your things with you.” And with that he walks back up to the front and continues his lesson. How odd, I wonder what they could want with me in the office? I gather my items and make my way down the hall and to the front door of the office. I bite the inside of my mouth nervously as I walk in and go up to the front desk. “Zayabelle?” The receptionist says. Obviously, you literally just saw me less than an hour ago. Whatever. “Yeah, that’s me. What did you need?” I reply with attitude. She frowns and looks at me with anger. “Principal’s office. Now.” She motions to the door with her thumb and her tone is one of anger and attitude. Hehe, I probably deserved that one.

Walking into the principal’s office, I start to get nervous. What could I have possibly done now? Are they finally going to kick me out? As soon as I close the door, I turn around and am met with the principal, a police officer, and a lady I don’t recognize in business casual attire. “What’s going on?” I ask nervously. Why the hell is there a cop here? “Please, take a seat.” The principal motions towards the chairs in front of her desk. Sitting down, I stare up at the principal, questions in my eyes. “Zayabelle, something happened with your mom.” What? What does she mean? Did mom finally OD somewhere? If she did, they found her pretty quickly. The cop speaks up finally. “Your mom was picked up for prostitution last night. She will be held at the jail until her trial date.” WHAT?! How could she be so reckless? I knew she would prostitute every so often for extra cash, but I thought she knew better than to get caught doing it. Jeesh. I wonder what T.J. is going to say when he finds out. The surprise on my face must have been evident, because the lady in the business attire finally decided to speak up and explain who exactly she was. “My name is Lilly and I’m a social worker. Since your mom won’t be able to take care of you for a while, we are going to have to move you into a different house for a bit. Do you have any family nearby you could stay with?” Wait, what? I don’t want to move. “I don’t need to move, I’m fine with staying here, thanks.” I can just stay with T.J. It’s not like my mom did anything for me anyways. T.J. has been more of a parent that she ever was. “I’m sorry, but that just isn’t an option right now.” Lilly responds with a sad look on her face. “Well my brother is at the house as well, could I just stay with him?” Please just let me stay with him and leave me alone, please, please, please… Lilly sighs, “I suppose we could do some checking and see if he would be a good fit. How old is he?” My eyes light up with a small amount of hope. “19.” Lilly instantly looks down. Well, this can’t be good news. “I’m sorry, we won’t be able to let you stay with him on that much of a permanent basis. Is there anyone else you can think of?” Hmm. If I can’t stay with T.J., I don’t know who tot stay with. As far as I know, I have no other family. It’s not like my mom mentioned anybody to me, and I have no idea about my dad’s side. I shake my head at Lilly. “I see, well, on your school forms there was one emergency contact listed that wasn’t your mother. Does the name Claire Hinston sound familiar at all?” Who? I shake my head no at her. “Well, I took the liberty of calling her already, she said that she would be able to look after you until the situation with your mother has been resolved. I can take you to your house now, so that we can gather your things before heading to your Aunt’s house.” Wait, Aunt?

This is all becoming too much and it’s getting harder to breathe. Who is this Claire chick? And what does she mean live with her? I live with my mom and T.J. and I’ll be damned if I have to leave that behind. “Could I use the bathroom really quick?” Lilly quickly nods at me and I all but run out of the room with my bag. I could run, shit I could get pretty far too. But what of T.J.? I can’t just leave him alone, plus my stash is still in the house. I can run home, grab the stuff then make a break for it with T.J. Fuck it, that’s what I’m going to do. I sprint out the front doors and all the way home. When I slam through the front door I scream out, “T.J.?!” No response. He’s probably out. I try calling him, but it only goes straight to voicemail. I start gathering as much stuff as I can and packing a bag. Pills? Check. Weed? Check. Clothes? Check. Razor blades? Check. Phone charger? Check. Almost done. I run downstairs with the bag and toss it on the counter. Reaching into the breadbox, I grab ahold of the small coffee tin that resides inside and open it up. Gianna keeps extra cash in here to pay for her new stash when her old one gets low. Fuck! She must have just replenished her stash because there is only $40 in the tin. I take it and shove it into my pocket just as T.J. calls me back.

***NOTE: Just posting first chapter for now to see if anyone is interested in it or not. Thanks. XOXO