Oh My...

13.) Crazy

I had the blunt in between my fingers like a cigarette. Every now and again I'd forget I was sharing it and Marshall would nudge my shoulder. "Yo, you're hogging it."

Smoke left my lips like a storm cloud. I passed it to him and grabbed his arm. "Sorry. That shit pearled though." I complimented.

Marshall perked up an eyebrow. "Pearled?"

"You guys don't say that here?" I asked, slightly embarrassed. "It means you rolled the dutch perfectly, I guess."

He smiled. "Thanks."

We were out of the woods by the time we finished the blunt, and finally I asked: "This was seriously the only place we could go to?"

Marshall peered down at me. "Huh?"

"I sucked your dick in a forest."

He started to laughing. "Okay, sorry. You said somewhere privet and my mom's home and this was the only place I could think of," he shrugged. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"A little trashy," I grumbled. But I guess I'm not much better, I added bleakly in my head.

I don't think Marshall heard--or maybe he just had nothing to say--because he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "What do you think your aunt will say when you get home?"

"I don't know," I muttered, rubbing my face with my hands. "I'm half expecting that she'll just send me home."

"Wait, weren't you sent here from home?" Marshall questioned, clearly puzzled.

"Yup," I kicked a rock that was sitting in the middle of the road. "And I haven't been very easy on Claire my few days here. I think she'll put me on a plane heading for Brooklyn by the end of the week, and my mom will send me to a psychiatric ward."

"You mean...like a mental hospital?"

I barked out a dark laugh. "Maybe it'll be like Girl, Interrupted. Have you ever read that book?"

"I don't read too much. Alex, what the fuck are you talking about?"

I stopped walking and stared at him, wearing a twisted smile. "Don't you see, Marshall? I'm batshit crazy. No one can handle me. I'm just gonna end up as a hooker like that fuckin' Shirley chick. I mean, we just fucked and I've known you for what- two days?"

"Now wait a minute. We're different- we're-..." Marshall stammered, his face flushing with rage. He ran his hand over his head and took a deep breath. "What? You think you're a whore or something?"

"More than that. I'm just an overall bad person. Do you know what it feels like realizing that you're the bad guy-"

"Christ, you're not a bad person-"

"You don't know me!" I shouted. I knew I was being too loud, especially since we were walking down a street lined with houses, but I didn't care. With all the drugs and emotions running through my system, I was too fucked up to care.

Our feelings obviously weren't mutual as Marshall cringed at my volume and hissed, "Shut up. Yo do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood?!" 

"Dude, I don't give a fuck! I'm so fuckin' tired of this shit, I just want to die."

"Alex, look: I've met a lot of shitty people, and you're not one of them! Now can you calm down?" Marshall pleaded, whipping his head from side to side to make sure we weren't bringing any attention.

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I briskly wiped them with the back of my hand and sniffled back a sob. "I'm so tired of living. I always make the wrong choices." I said miserably.

"You just need to think more before you act," Marshall suggested. "You shouldn't beat yourself up like this, Alex. It's gonna lead to nothing good."

I swiped my hand under my eyes again, making sure to rid myself of anymore tears. Marshall comfortingly grabbed my hand and rubbed circles into my skin with his thumb. "Take it easy, Alex. This isn't fair to you."

I wanted to recoil my hand away from his grip, but I hesitated. His warmth was nice. "I don't deserve to 'take it easy'." I instead grumbled.

Marshall laughed. "You deserve better than what you're getting," he stated. "That, I know for sure."

* * *

The front windows had light seeping from them, extending all the way to the front yard. I wasn't sure if the door was going to be locked, and a large portion of me wasn't eager to find out.

Marshall whistled when he saw my house. "Isn't half bad."

"Don't lie to me." I snapped, still standing on the sidewalk, facing the ugly white house.

Marshall laughed and rubbed my back. "You're funny."

We both stood there in silence for a few more seconds. "You're scared to go in?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. "She's going to kill me." I stressed, wiping my sweaty palms on my pajama pants.

"At least if she does, you can haunt her." Marshall pointed out, shrugging.

I punched his side. "That's not very encouraging."

We allowed ourselves to become engulfed in silence once more. Finally, after what felt like an hour, I patted his shoulder. "You should probably go home."

"I can come in with you," Marshall offered.

I shook my head. "That would just make it a million times worse. Seriously, get some sleep. We have school in the morning."

Marshall gave me a toothy grin before kissing the top of my head. "Alright. I'll go. I hope you don't die tonight."

"Yeah, me too." I uttered, kicking my shoes against the pavement.

He walked off. When I was alone, the reality of my situation was finally beginning to seep in. I've only been here two days, and both nights I came home passed midnight.

I sheepishly hurried across the lawn and turned the knob on my front door--it was unlocked. Pushing it open, blinding light from the TV hit my face, forcing me to shield my eyes with my hands. Once my vision was able to adjust, I saw Claire fast asleep on the couch, a clear glass bong on the floor beside her.

I let out a breath of relief. I couldn't believe my luck; now I was able to hide from Claire for a few more hours. I tiptoed to my bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as I could behind me.