Through The Glass.
folder
Original - Misc › Drugs and Alcohol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
28
Views:
1,990
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Drugs and Alcohol
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
28
Views:
1,990
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work belongs to me, and plagirism and redistrubution without my consent is strictly prohibited.
Chapter 8
Author's Note: Many thanks to Akenaten for giving me my first review thus far. If you are reading this, please find it in the bottom of your beautiful, kind hearts to let me know what you think of this? I'd appreciate it ever so much.
Moving on, this chapter is where the true plot of this story begins to unfold. I truly hope you enjoy.
--ohxasphyxiationx
--------
It was only a short two-block walk to Matthew's apartment. He opened the door, looking back to smile at me, before letting me in. It was a small studio apartment that resembled something of an art gallery. There were several easels in different corners of the main room. I could see his large bed in the back, separated by a wall and a door, which was left open.
Matthew flicked open the lights, and spread his arms wide. "Welcome to my palace." He smiled, and I laughed at his gesture. I put my bag down by the door, but he picked it up immediately and brought it into his bedroom, I followed closely behind.
I couldn't believe that I was standing in his bedroom. A bedroom is full of intimacies, a private place shared by married couples or a personal space that belongs to only you. And yet here I was, standing in the bedroom of my brother's childhood friend. His childhood friend that I felt myself falling for more and more by the second. The same friend that used to play hide and seek with me when I was younger. There was an entire decade between us, but in my mind that didn't matter.
"Allison?" I snapped out of my thoughts as he called my name, and came to the haunting realization that he'd been talking to me the entire time I had been daydreaming.
"Hmm?" I said, trying to keep myself from literally smacking myself in the face. He was so cool and handsome and clever and funny, and I was shy and trembling with nervousness just from looking at him.
"What happened with Chris? Why'd he throw you out?" He sat at the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. I sat next to him and began to speak.
"He's liked me ever since eighth grade. We were cleaning up the mess in his house when he tried to kiss me," I rubbed my face tiredly. "I don't like him like that. I keep telling him, but he keeps trying. When I told him that, he got upset, pushed me on the floor, and threw me out."
"He pushed you?" Matt asked, looking shocked. "What a fucking jerk."
I nodded, and then just yawned. He got up agitatedly and began fumbling through one of the drawers in his dresser, sifting through socks and boxer shorts before he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a small mirror from inside his bedside table, and began to hover over the mirror, taking a metrocard out of his pocket. I could hear it banging and scraping against the mirror. He reached in the draw for something else; it was too small to see.
He sat back next to me carefully, and on the mirror were four lines of white powder.
I started to feel even more nervous. "What is that?"
He smiled at me, almost condescendingly. "Cocaine. Do you want to try?"
I had never done anything like this. I'd never had a drink, never done any type of drugs, and I'd never been one to fall under the influence of others.
I answered before I could stop myself, "Sure."
Moving on, this chapter is where the true plot of this story begins to unfold. I truly hope you enjoy.
--ohxasphyxiationx
--------
It was only a short two-block walk to Matthew's apartment. He opened the door, looking back to smile at me, before letting me in. It was a small studio apartment that resembled something of an art gallery. There were several easels in different corners of the main room. I could see his large bed in the back, separated by a wall and a door, which was left open.
Matthew flicked open the lights, and spread his arms wide. "Welcome to my palace." He smiled, and I laughed at his gesture. I put my bag down by the door, but he picked it up immediately and brought it into his bedroom, I followed closely behind.
I couldn't believe that I was standing in his bedroom. A bedroom is full of intimacies, a private place shared by married couples or a personal space that belongs to only you. And yet here I was, standing in the bedroom of my brother's childhood friend. His childhood friend that I felt myself falling for more and more by the second. The same friend that used to play hide and seek with me when I was younger. There was an entire decade between us, but in my mind that didn't matter.
"Allison?" I snapped out of my thoughts as he called my name, and came to the haunting realization that he'd been talking to me the entire time I had been daydreaming.
"Hmm?" I said, trying to keep myself from literally smacking myself in the face. He was so cool and handsome and clever and funny, and I was shy and trembling with nervousness just from looking at him.
"What happened with Chris? Why'd he throw you out?" He sat at the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. I sat next to him and began to speak.
"He's liked me ever since eighth grade. We were cleaning up the mess in his house when he tried to kiss me," I rubbed my face tiredly. "I don't like him like that. I keep telling him, but he keeps trying. When I told him that, he got upset, pushed me on the floor, and threw me out."
"He pushed you?" Matt asked, looking shocked. "What a fucking jerk."
I nodded, and then just yawned. He got up agitatedly and began fumbling through one of the drawers in his dresser, sifting through socks and boxer shorts before he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a small mirror from inside his bedside table, and began to hover over the mirror, taking a metrocard out of his pocket. I could hear it banging and scraping against the mirror. He reached in the draw for something else; it was too small to see.
He sat back next to me carefully, and on the mirror were four lines of white powder.
I started to feel even more nervous. "What is that?"
He smiled at me, almost condescendingly. "Cocaine. Do you want to try?"
I had never done anything like this. I'd never had a drink, never done any type of drugs, and I'd never been one to fall under the influence of others.
I answered before I could stop myself, "Sure."