The Rose's are Dead

oh deary. rejection.

My heart thudded in my chest, slamming against my ribcage in an forgivable fashion. I couldn’t believe what I had just said to her. I had actually talked to her! And…she had touched me. I shivered as I remembered the way her warm hand felt on my shoulders-the way it made me forget everything…everything except that reprehensible craving for more.   

                I leaned my head against the brick walks in the boy’s restroom. The walls were unnaturally cold, submitting to the freezing atmosphere that mixed beautifully with the deafly silence. The calm and somehow disturbing atmosphere completely contradicted all my current emotions. Every inch of me was jittery with shame, exhilaration, humility, remorse, and something else. Something…more. It was an incredible feeling, yet, at the same time, it brought me dread. I couldn’t stand it. It hurt.      

                I sighed and brought my newly lit cigarette to my lips, taking a long drag before pulling it away in disgust. I hated the taste. Hated the smell. But the nicotine calmed me, it made me less…tense, I suppose would be the word. It was only my fifth one in 2 weeks. I had vowed to never fall addicted to the piece of s**t that had killed my father. If I don’t smoke them all the time like he did, I should be fine. Given the current circumstances, I figured a few wouldn’t hurt.

                Suddenly it hit me. The impact was so fierce that it knocked the breath straight from lungs, causing me to drop the cigarette. It was extinguished by a pool of water that had gathered beneath the sink. I ignored it. The pain of such a realization caused me to double over, my hands and knees digging against the cement floor. My entire body shook violently, trembling beneath the excitement. I knew. I finally knew…

                I reared back, ready to stand and exit the bathroom. I felt like running. Felt like jumping and screaming. I wasn’t sure if it was joy or pure rage, but something inside me demanded to be released. As I began to jump to my feet, something cool and hard rammed into the back of my head. I cried out in unexpected pain, falling onto the floor again. I didn’t have long to realize what had happened before I was welcomed by the arms of unconsciousness.

 

 

 

                The joint felt good between my lips as I finished it off. My eyes instinctively closed at the heavenly inhale. That one long breath took my higher than I had ever been. I placed the remainder of the spit-soaked blunt onto the floor. There was still a bit lift, I would be able to salvage it and smoke it again. Later.  Right now, nothing mattered.

                “Don’t waste it, man!”

                I glanced over at my brother and grinned. “Don’t worry dude, I’m not. I’ll get the rest later.”

                He grunted and raised his own joint to his mouth. I stared at the small pile of smoked blunts we had created. Between the both of us, a quarter ounce of weed had met its match. It was anything new. It was real light compared to a typical day. Dusty wrinkled his nose.

                “I shoulda known as soon as I got my hands on some good s**t you’d smoke it all.” He leaned his head against the wall of my room. His long curly red hair looked interesting next to his sun kissed face. The tan in his skin was so apparent that it made his freckles almost invisible. However, the strange combination was tied together by his grassy green eyes. It never ceased to amaze me how much he looked like her. Except for his tough jaw and muscled build, he was the spitting image of mom. My features had favored dad a little more. Brown curls, blue eyes, and pale Irish skin. Yep. That was me.

                The thought of my parents made me crave another joint more than I usually did. They were off on some save-the-whale protest in Florida. It would take them at least two days to get there, a week for the rally, and two days back. It would have been much less than that if they had taken the car, but dad had decided it would be more special to go on his bike. He’d had that some motorcycle for longer than I could remember. According to unmistakable stains on the black leather seat, Dusty and I had figured we had been conceived on it.

                At that time, the phone rang. The high pitched shrill snapped me from my thoughts. I shook my head and reached for it on the counter. I wasn’t worried about getting caught. I had had plenty of experience in disguising my high from others.   

                “Hello?” I spoke politely in case it was mom or dad.

                “Hey, this Jade?” It wasn’t them.

                “Yeah, it’s me. What’s up Essie?”

                “Oh my god, Jade did you hear?!” Raven pitched in on the other line. She must have been over at Essie’s house. They probably had the same idea as me and Dusty.

                “Hear what?” I asked, allowing my words to slur. There was no point in hiding it with them. Besides, Raven’s voice was urgent, ensuring that something big had went down.

                “You know that kid in class? The one we tried to get with us? The dude?”

                “That Devon kid?” Essie assured.

                My body tensed up at the mention of his name. The weed had helped me forget him. Now, the memory was clear as day. I pretended to act uninterested, but my entire mind was racing at what they could possibly say.

                “Yeah, what about him?” I asked. The despair and urgency in Raven’s voice told me this was not going to be good. And, by the way she was panting frantically, I knew it was no joke.  

                “It’s not good, Essie. The bathroom…something happened. He’s not breathing. Jade, I think he’s dead!”