Skinny • Book 1 In The Reality Series

Ashton

Sitting in the spider web covered plastic lawn chair on the balcony of your second floor hotel room, I took a long drag of my cigarette before pulling my phone from my pocket and pressing the number of my most recent call, the only number I ever bothered to remember.

It rang twice, before I was sent to voicemail.

"Dorothy." I breathed in way of greeting, her name rolling off my tongue like the lyrics of a familiar song, "How are you? I miss you. I found a new girl. She's just like you, so much like you. I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And she wants to spend the rest of her life with me because she's not a fucking bitch who can't except that what happened was an accident! It's not my fault you had your ass hanging out like a fucking sl....."

The line beeped, cutting me off.

Cursing, I ended the call and cramming my phone in my pocket looked down at the pool below where Katy was walking around the deep end with a nervous, blue lipped Sam clinging to her tightly as if he life depended on it, loud horrified shrieks leaving his mouth when she would pretend to let him slip from her fingertips.

Wiping my dripping nose on the back of my wrist, I pulled the orange plastic bottle my Paxil had come in before I'd choked out my boss, losing both my job, and my insurance. It was now filled with motion sickness pills.

Removing one, I dropped it into my palm and taking a long swig of water, swallowed the chalky, little circular tablet.

I knew I shouldn't be popping the things like Tic Tacs every morning and night, however I was starting to go nuts without my pills. I could feel it in my chest, a constant boiling feeling of frustration, desperation and anxiety.

Without consent my memories clouded my vision. I'd been at home watching television, one of the thirteen singing competitions I couldn't seem to get away from.

Daisy had trotted up to me and sat down beside me on the couch. Not paying her any attention, I'd been engrossed in the microwavable bowl of Raman in my hands until the serenity of the evening was shattered by a wet, repulsive sound. The nails on a chalkboard like slurping of the dog licking her puckered ass hole.

"Stop it!" I shouted, but she was used to that.

Eyeing me she continued.

And then I snapped.

I'd hit her once, twice, and then I'd kicked her, in the head too many times to remember. She'd stopped moving, breathing long before I'd stopped.

Closing my eyes and shaking the image of her limp corpse from my thoughts, I looked down at the pills in my hand and took another.

My mind then wandered to the day before while Katy ran into a McDonalds to use the bathroom. Sam had been chewing gum, no, not chewing, chomping. His little lips smacking noisily on the large wad of fruit flavored candy like a dog licking it's own ass. I'd tried to ignore it. I'd turned up the radio, I'd pinched myself, I'd even tried counting to ten slowly like my therapist recommended, but by the time I made it to six, something in me broke.

"Stop it!" I'd shouted, a carnal yell, my veins throbbing.

Swirling in my chair like the chick from the Exorcist, I pinched his cheeks until I felt my thumb and forefinger touch and manually scrapped out the gum. Sam stared at me in disbelief as the red screen I'd been struggling to see through dissolved. I could breath again. My chest, which had felt like it was being crushed in a fist was finally released.

Sam was crying, scared no doubt, but that was something I could live with.

Capping the bottle, I slipped it into my pocket before shuffling back into the room, then out of it and finally down to the pool.