The Story No one wants to Hear Chapter Six

Smoke tastes better than Candy1

When my mother took me home, I realized how crazy I had become. I didn't care about Zachary anymore, it was only about me. I felt frantic as soon as i stepped into my room, the white walls unable to calm me though I knew very well I didn't have anything to get high off of in my grandfather's house. Nothing felt normal to me because I knew Zachary had a chance of dying. It was insane, the first thing that every slipped through my defenses and struck home. I knew that I had Zachary before the girl at the party, and then I had stolen him away from her--- was this some superior being's way of punishing me?2

I will admit that I'm very selfish and before I considered the fact that Zachary could live, I was thinking about how this would affect me. What would I have to do to stay the same old Cathy--the one that smoked pot and kept secrets- forever. I never noticed that as soon as I stepped into my room I heaved a heavy sigh and threw myself on the white blanketted bed, sinking into the mattress only slightly. I was insane. I was fucking insane.3

I was fucking incredible.4

Before thinking about Zachary's health, I was worrying about my secret. Would it stay hidden now that they would recommend rehab for Zachary that he would most likely be forced to attend? would he be able to come over now that he was going to be supervised and drug tested weekly? For some reason, the thought of Zachary changing scared me. Over time I found that even after our breakup, Zachary was the same kid. The same guy just a few months older than me, who had started smoking pot before I even did. Nothing seemed bad about it and it was a rush, something that felt incredible. Something that was incredible like us.5

When I cried Zachary held me and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand so softly it made me cry harder and shake until he held me tighter in his arms and every time I would look at his face to see if he realized how happy he was making me.6

His eyes were wide, his eyes were small, his eyes were watching, his eyes were away.7

I never completely had Zachary, something always wanted to change him and I never held a grasp on him and the only cure for it was another fix. I could only worry about him in between the second or two it took the needle to break through the skin or the smoke to completely go through my blood stream.8

No one was able to figure out I was destroying myself, not even Zachary.I caught up to his habits quickly and at times, I doubled them, testing myself to how long i could stay up before going through cardiac arrest. The concept of convulsing on the floor and trying to breathe made me laugh so hard when I was stoned, but Zachary was there and when I probably met up with him again, the most he was going to say to me was 'been there, done that.'9

When he changed, would he want me to change too? Would he want me to fight against the beautiful colors that I never knew existed? Would he want me to fight past the funny noises that I heard whispered in my ears, the pretty things people told me that I knew I would shake my head in disgust about five seconds after I realized that the question they had posed had been addressed to me? Would I? The thing about Zachary was that he was always in control of me without realizing it. I was living off of his memory though when we broke up he had told me we promised.10

We promised to always care.11

What utter bullshit, because here I was putting myself before him, not once stopping to bring up the fact that Zachary could die in the hospital. He seemed too good for that, too good for death.12

"Fucking indestructable..." He had muttered one summer evening, his head on my lap. I was sitting flat, my left hand on his forehead, pushing that brown hair that always seemed soppy out of his face. He laid there with his right leg bent up as if to form a tent when a blanket was placed on top and he was always staring someplace-- someplace that I couldn't see.13

The thought of him seeing something that I couldn't made me feel childish, like i was immature though I knew damn well that i was at Zachary's level.14

Then again, they say you're childish until you hit rock bottom, but I don't know where my bottom is and I know that if I get high over and over again, I'll never reach it.15

The car ride with my mother was no big deal, it went quickly. She didn't know about Zachary's condition because his friends were so stoned they decided they only wanted to call me. They probably didn't even remember their own names and the thought of that made me laugh so hard in the car that tears came to my eyes in the back seat when I was laying down, but after a while, I discovered I wasn't laughing myself to tears, I was literally crying.16

I hated Zachary. I hated everything about him--- How beautiful he was, how stupid he made me feel, how at peace I felt when I was with him...everything.17

But I didn't hate him for my best friend. My best friend was always beside me, always watching, always smiling, always opening its arms that always seemed to vary in length everytime I saw it.18

I could openly say that I regretted meeting Zachary because of every little thing that he had put me through. I wanted to fall asleep but for some reason, when I laid there with my converse on and my eyes closed, nothing was pulling me under into the world of dreams.19

I was just laying there, fucking hopeless.20

I opened my eyes, letting out a long sigh and opened my arms, laying myself awkwardly on my bed as I kicked off my shoes. I glared at the ceiling, wishing I could just slip through it and fly into the sky to see if there was a heaven or hell as Zachary was in the ER, deciding unconsciously whether or not getting high was worth it. I couldn't find anything to pass the time and when I forced myself partially up, I looked to my right only to discover my little white alarm clock whose red numbers now read to me :21

12: 14.22

I winced as my eyes slipped past the alarm clock and to the darkness outside, my curtain was only partially closed and my eyes couldn't help but wince because Zachary was not here with me on this white bed, inside of my room, inside of my house, inside of my arms.23

The time felt like an hour but in reality, it was only seconds and I found myself whispering to myself, my version of paranoia. I hated being in the dark, alone in the dark with no one else. Nothing felt clear anymore. I didn't even know what I was whispering until I stood from the bed wearing the jeans and t shirt I had been wearing before and the white ankle socks on my feet. I walked to the window and forced the blue curtains over and out of my view with a quick movement, staring up at the full moon in the sky that seemed to shine brighter than ever on this night that could be Zachary's last. It felt oddly beautiful.24

"Liar. You're a liar."