Damaged

29 | fear

"I haven't seen you in a while." The man frowned at me with his head tilted to the side.

"Yes." I answered curtly, and the darkness of the twilight surrounding us covered the exchange in shadows. I didn't bother with formalities with this man.

He curiously squinted his eyes at me, and then cocked his head to the side, "it'll be one-fifty."

I grabbed two hundred dollar bills and handed it to him.

"Keep the change." I mumbled and he tipped his head in appreciation.

He grabbed two small plastic bags from his pockets, one filled with white and the other one with green, and handed them to me. As soon as I threw them inside my purse I turned my back to the man and walked towards my car at the end of the parking lot.

The warm interior of the car was comforting compared to the harsh weather outside. At least I can still physically feel, I guess. I can still  notice whether it's warm or cold, and if there's rain falling down from the sky. I'm not completely numb yet.

I arrive home without noticing it. I drove unconsciously through town and was surprised when the gates appeared in front of my car. I parked in my usual spot and got out of the car in the cold twilight, and dragged myself through the front door. The sound of silverware and crystal glasses being used echo through the house as I step into the foyer. Once I place my boot-clad foot on the first step of the grand staircase I hear my name being called.

"Luna? Is that you?" My mother's voice is carried to me from the dining room and I close my eyes in exasperation. All I wanted to do was lock myself on my bedroom and get so high that my life seems like a distant memory.

I walk towards the dining room and the sound of the expensive cutlery becomes less distant. I walk into the room and come face-to-face to my parents. It's been a while since I've seen both of them together.

"Come sit with us." Mom says as she places the fork down and looks at me.

"I'm not hungry." I reply and stand there awkwardly. Father finally looks at me and places his wine glass down.

We are strikingly similar. Both have black hair and sharp blue eyes. We have the same nose. And I inherited his disregard towards the world, his force. Maybe that's why I hate him, he reminds me of myself.

"Are you okay?" Mom asks, her eyebrows pulling together in concern.

I force a smile, "I'm fine. I think I'm coming down with something though."

"Okay. You better get some rest sweetheart." She says, and gives me a small smile. I nod and turn away from them, then walk to my room.

I lock the door behind me and stand for a moment in the dark entrance, my willpower to even walk to the bed gone. I stand there for a few minutes observing the shapes in my room become objects as my eyes adjust to the light.

I force my legs to move and I sit on top of my duvet. My hand easily finds the plastic bag that I'm searching for and I grab some of the weed inside. I haven't forgotten how to roll a joint in the time that I haven't done any drugs. It's been over a year since I've taken anything stronger than cigarettes and alcohol.

I lay down on the bed and light the joint placed between my lips, the glow at its end the only source of light in the room. I inhale and exhale the smoke while willing the drug to enter my bloodstream quicker and make my sorrows seem insignificant. Soon the tell-tale buzz clouds my thoughts and makes everything seem incorporeal in my mind, finally allowing me to escape.

***

The weekend was spent in my room getting high. It had been a while since I've done any drugs, especially in that amount. Day and night became hazy and blended with each other as I laid on my bed and tried to forget about my consuming numbness and desperately tried to get him out of my mind.