Jusitn opened his eyes slowly and scanned his surroundings. It took him a second to recognize where he was but he soon relaxed when he realized he was in his own room. He rubbedd his eyes and groaned inwardly, daytime came entirly to fast. He rolled his head over to the side to look out the window when the events of the previous day starting to rekindle themselves in his brain. He threw the covers off of his body and hit the floor, it had to be somewhere. He checked under the bed, in the pockets of his jeans, his shoes, everywhere. He ran to closet and checked all the usual spots but to no avail.
"Fuck! Where is it?"
"I threw it out."
Justin turned quickly to the sound of the deep voice, "You what?" He breathed deeply.
"I threw all of it out, Jay. Every last baggie. Oh, and your welcome for cleaning up your room and the rest of the house."
"Do you know how much that shit cost me?" Justin said, getting up from his place on the floor in the closet and walking up to his friend.
"I don't care. Do you know where I found you last night? You were laid up in some fucking alley, higher than a kite! You fucking peed your pants! I had to bathe you last night asshole and you want to get in my fucking face? Fuck you!"
"I never asked you pathetic ass to help me! I don't need help, I'm fine." Justin hissed.
"I'm pathetic? You don't need help? You've lost everything Justin, everything! Your mother won't talk to you, you have zero friends, no Chione and no kids because of this drug shit! Fuck man, you can't even see what's happened to you."
Trace started to walk out of the room but Justin whirled him around, "Don't give me that bullshit Trace. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be on this shit right now! You seem to forget, all high and mighty one, that you were the one that told me to do a line. 'Oh come on man, this shit is from Columbia, the best shit you'll ever have.' Or don't you remember that? You know what, without me, you'd be nothing. You'd be working at some fucking fast food restaurant, wishing that you could have just a piece of what I do! You're the pathetic one because you continue to kiss my ass and follow me around like a sick puppy. Oh, how much do you want for cleaning my house bitch?"
The two men stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like hours. Trace shook his head slowly and let out a sarcastic laugh, "Fuck it, you are on your own. I'm not gonna put up with this shit. Have a nice fucking life."
Justin watched his now former friend jog down the stairs and heard the front door slam with his departure, "Fuck him, I don't need his ass."
The trash, if Justin knew Trace, he knew that he wouldn't be smart enough to flush the cocaine, he would throw it away. Justin dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen, emptying the contents of the trash can onto the floor. Not finding what he wanted, he ran through the garage and to the big trash cans and flipped the top back. He dug through the trash like a common bum, throwing the trash bags, pizza boxes, old newspapers and everything else to the ground. When he reached the bottom, he smiled when he spotted the eight or nine baggies still full with the white powder. He grabbed at the baggies, clutching them to his chest and turned to head back into the house when I torn, tattered picture caught his eye. He picked up the picture and squinted his eyes to try and make out the image. It was a picture of Trace, Chione and himself at a resaurant in New York. It was the same day that she had told him she was pregnant, they all had went out to celebrate. The picture was torn and scratched beyond believe, probably ruined the day before when he tore up his house looking for his drugs. He remembered that it was one of his favorites of the three of them though, that was a really good night. With the picture in hand, he walked back into the house and straight over to the living room, where he pulled out some old photo albums. He sat back on his couch and looked through the rest of the pictures from that trip to New York as that night replayed in his conscience.
Justin rolled over and pryed his open to the bright, New York sun. He then laid his eyes on his girlfriend, who smiled at him from her seated position next to him, "Good morning baby." She said, widening her smile.
"Mornin'. What are you doing girl?"
"Watching you sleep."
"Can I ask why?" He chuckled.
"Because you're beautiful."
He laughed again and grabbed her leg, pulling her into his chest. As she giggled, he pressed his lips against the top of her head, and took in the strawberry smell her hair carried, "Stop it Jay. I have something to tell you." Chione said, sitting back up.
"Oh god, what did you do now?"
Her face light up with laughter, "What you mean what did I do?"
"You remember when you wrecked my car? You came in the house all quiet and said, 'Baby, I have something to tell you.'"
"First of all, that accident wasn't my fault and second, this has nothing to do with your precious cars so shut up."
He laughed with her, "Okay babe, what do you need to tell me?"
She broke eye contact with him and starting rubbing her hands together, "Well, it's pretty monumental. After I tell you this, our lives are going to change forever."
Justin laughed nervously and rubbed her thigh, "You're scaring me, what is it Chione?"
She took a deep breathe, grabbed his large hand into her tiny one and looked into his deep blue eyes, "I'm pregnant."
Justin looked her in disbelief as Chione waited for a response. A few seconds later, a smile started to spread across his face, "Really baby? We are really going to be parents?"
"Yeah babe."
His eyes started to water as he unlatched his hand from hers and put on her still flat stomach. When his fingers hit her flesh, the warmth radiating from her belly made his breath catch in his throat. He gasped lightly, the emotions taking him over as he rubbed his hand softly along her stomach. By that time, Chione was crying to and rubbed her thumb underneath his eyes, washing away the tears that were wetting his perfect face.
"You are going to be such a good mom." He whispered.
"You are going to be such a good dad, I can't image doing this with any other man but you Jay."
"I love you girl."
"And I love you baby."
By time the memory ended, more tears had spilled down his face. Ashamed of his actions the last months that they were together embarrassed him. He regretted that the most, loosing her and their child. His life had deteriorated so fast after that weekend in New York, all because of the white powder that was now sitting on his coffee table. He had pushed away his final savior, Trace, who took care of him when he went through withdrawls, who picked him up from strange places because he was to high to get himself home. Now, he was truley and utterly alone, no one cared about him or for him. He thought he was living the life but in reality, he was nothing but a strung out junkie. A junkie who had traded his friends, family and future for a few bags of coke.
He looked at the pictures of Chione, wishing that she would walk through the front door and love him again. When he knew that that wasn't going to happen, he slammed the photo album shut and threw it across the room, watching it slam against the wall and fall to the floor. He needed to forget her, forget the life they could of had, and forget the baby that she had brought into the world. He ripped open one of the bags, and spread the powder all over the black coffee table. He cut the coke into four lines, and lowered his head to the table. In one swift move, he snorted the first line with ease, sitting back and rubbing his nose roughly and the drug ripped though his nasal cavity. He repeated the ritual until the lines were nonexistant and sat back into the couch as the substance ran its course through his body. After a few minutes, when the pain of Chione hadn't subsided, he stumbled into the bathroom and gripped around for the straight razor. When his fingers felt the metal, he grabbed it and pulled off his shirt.
As he looked over his torso and stomach, he ran his fingers over the healed wounds he had inflicted on himself over the last few months. A few from the previous days before where still red and raised slightly and stung when his fingers traced them softly. He placed the razor on his chiseled stomach and slowly began to drag the razor across his abs. He hardly felt the pain because he was high but mostly because he was numb to the all familiar pain. Bright red blood began to drip form the fresh wound and slid down his stomach until the brim of his jeans soaked it up. He had gone too deep this time, it wouldn’t stop bleeding. His weak legs gave out from under him and he fell to the floor and blinked slowly as the narcotics again took over his body and the blood ran from his open wound. The tears still tumbled from his eyes but he was oblivious to it now. He closed his eyes and hoped that he would never open them again.
Author's Chapter Notes:
again, if you see any him/his/son, let me know but I'm pretty sure I got them all.
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