Through The Woods

by Shannon Myers

  When he placed the bag of white powder on his coffee table, all of my previous suspicions were confirmed.

  He caught my stare and explained. “Blow. Snow. Coke. It’ll help you stay awake and keep you focused.”

  Oh, hell no.

  I took a step back. “Um, well…”

  I envisioned telling him that Paul had been mistaken. That I hadn’t known what he was dragging me up here to do. I ran through several different scenarios that would get me the hell out of there—

  “I forgot I had an eight o’clock lab…”

  “I left my flatiron on in my dorm room…”

  “I just remembered I’m supposed to say no to drugs…”

  Every scenario ended with me getting shot in the back as I tried to escape. I paused to fathom how I’d ended up in this predicament, but came up short.

  I wet my lips with my tongue and settled for, “Um, Clint, I’m not sure—I mean, I’ve never done anything—”

  He cut me off. “You’ve never used before, have you?”

  I shook my head and laughed nervously. “I’ve never even been to a party until tonight. Paul just said if I wanted to get my grades up that you might have something to help me. I guess I thought that maybe it was caffeine pills or something like that.”

  I was rambling, but couldn’t seem to stop vomiting up words. I could’ve told myself that it was just the one time. Bought the damn drugs, used them once, and then gone back to my dorm—forgetting that I ever came here. But, that wasn’t me.

  He easily swiped the bag from the coffee table and returned it to his pocket before smiling. “How about we get to know each other over something a little more refined than that cow piss they call beer?”

  I set my still mostly full cup down on the table as Clint walked over to a sideboard and grabbed a decanter. “So, first time to a party, but surely not your first time drinking?”

  I winced. “Actually… yes.”

  He paused before pouring. “Well then, at least you’re with someone who can steer you in the right direction.” He handed me the glass and raised his in a toast. “To first times. Just knock it back like a shot. It’ll go down easier that way.”

  Clint wasn’t what I expected in a drug dealer—well, my only experience up until this point was based upon the aforementioned after-school specials with bad music. I’d expected some greasy drifter with bad hygiene, but he was none of those things.

  He was someone who would fit in seamlessly in my world. The thought sent a flutter of excitement through my body, but I shook it off, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Nothing like transitioning from attending my first party to taking shots with the resident drug-dealer. The incredibly sexy drug-dealer.

  I downed the contents of my glass before my mind had a chance to continue. It was only going to lead somewhere dangerous. The liquid burned as it hit my throat, warming my chest on the way down.

  He immediately poured us another. The second one went down even smoother than the first. When we began, we were on opposite ends of the couch, but each shot moved me closer to him. He asked me about my classes while his hand rested lightly against my thigh and instead of shifting away, I leaned into him, while explaining how I’d ended up in Colorado.

  Clint took a sip of his drink. “So, now what?”

  I shifted the empty glass in my hand, watching amusedly as it distorted the shape of the coffee table underneath. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess if things keep going like this, I’ll be back in Cali by Christmas.”

  He leaned in until his lips hovered less than an inch from mine. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

  I nodded and swallowed. “I—”

  Clint’s mouth latched onto mine with a focused possessiveness and my sentence cut off in a moan. Every flicker of his tongue weakened my resolve to walk out of here unchanged, while the scrape of his teeth against my mouth left me with an unfamiliar ache for more.

  He pulled back and panted, “I knew the minute you walked in here that you didn’t belong with someone like Paul. You need more than he could ever give.”

  My body shuddered at his words and I knew that I wasn’t capable of walking away anymore.

  I wanted more.

  I wanted it all—recklessness and bad decisions be damned.

  He ran the pad of his thumb across my lower lip with a grin. “Goddamn am I glad that you showed up tonight. Any other firsts you want to try tonight?”

  I glanced at his pocket and then back up at him. “Would the coke really help me stay awake?”

  He pulled the bag from his pocket and held it up. “You snort some of this and you can go without sleep for days—I hear it’s perfect for students with full course loads.”

  I blurted out, “Cocaine is the second most popular illicit recreational drug in the United States.”

  He smiled amusedly. “Oh yeah? And what’s the most popular?”

  I tried to match his smile, even as anxiety mixed with liquor, churning my stomach into a rough sea. “Marijuana—um, weed. Sorry, I tend to ramble off random facts when I’m nervous or uncomfortable.”

  He cupped my face in his hand. “I think it’s pretty fucking adorable, if we’re being honest. I don’t want you to be nervous around me though. I’m not going to push you.”

  I pressed my cheek into his palm. “If I’m going to do it, I want you to be the one to show me.”

  I tried to push my desire down as Clint showed me exactly what to do, his knee brushing against mine in the process. “It’s gonna burn like a bitch, but if you can make it through that, you’re gonna feel amazing.”

  I followed his instructions exactly—suddenly hyperaware of everything around me. Even the hairs on my arms seemed to be standing at attention, searching the air around me for new sensations. I felt more awake than I had in years and all the stress regarding my classes seemed to fade away until I was suspended in a euphoric state. This was a memory that was going to stay with me forever.

  “Cocaine raises the level of the neurotransmitter Dopamine. Did you know that?”

  Clint’s mouth dropped to my ear and I shivered as he pressed a soft kiss against my jaw. “No. What else?”

  I moaned softly, while marveling at how vibrant everything seemed. Clint’s hair wasn’t just a sandy brown—there were strands of gold mixed in. I’d missed it before, but now I could see everything.

  It was as if my eyes had finally been opened.

  “Um, thirty-eight million people have reported using cocaine at some point in their lives.”

  He pulled back and smiled again, soft dimples appearing in both cheeks. “You can thank Paul for that first bump. I can get you more…” His voice trailed off as he gazed at my body.

  I stood up unsteadily. “Dance with me.”

  I was going to experience what Sofia had before I left here. It was only right. I’d never wanted to dance as much as I did in this moment. Clint reached for a small remote and a stereo kicked on in the corner, playing some pop ballad. I was dreaming, I knew that, but I wasn’t going to let my fantasy go to waste. We moved together in time to the music and just like everything else between us, it was perfect.

  “We should be on Dancing with the Stars,” I mumbled, mesmerized by how small my hips looked in his hands.

  He let out a low chuckle and squeezed me tighter.

  Suddenly uninhibited, I stumbled back and stripped off my tank, tossing it onto the carpet. He undid the buttons on his Polo and pulled it off, before joining me. His hands gripped my hips again as we moved to the beat of the music. If I thought Clint was attractive before, the cocaine pushed those feelings into overdrive. I felt like a supermodel and, based on what I was feeling through his jeans, he shared similar feelings.

  I wanted him. Badly.

  I lost all interest in dancing about a minute into it and began working to get his pants off instead. He backed me up against a wall and kissed my throat while fighting to get the zipper on my jeans down, as his teeth nipped at my
breasts through the lace of my bra, forcing another moan from my lips.

  I felt like I was floating somewhere high above my body as he slid into me. Sex with him while high was incredible—it was deeply spiritual; the way our bodies connected. He was tender…loving, you might say. It made the handful of times with my boyfriend in high school seem like a joke. This wasn’t some fumbled attempt in the backseat of his dad’s sedan. This was a man, taking what was his.

  This was why people made such a big deal about sex.

  I peaked in his arms, but didn’t once come down from my high. It was wrong, but everything about it felt right. As I steadied myself against his shoulder, I knew that I could never do it again.

  “How are you feeling?” He murmured into my hair, before pulling out, leaving me empty. Hollow.

  “I—I can’t do this,” I confessed.

  He chuckled and pressed a kiss to my forehead, still holding me upright. “I’m assuming you mean the blow. It’s not for everyone. If you’re referring to me, I hope you’ll reconsider. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  My heart fluttered again at his words, but I frowned. A drug dealer wanted to be with me. This hadn’t been part of my plans.

  He tilted my face up to his. “Look at me, Neve. Do I look messed up to you?” I shook my head and he continued, “Exactly. I sell it, but I don’t use. Ever. It’s a business, baby. Plain and simple.”

  I chewed on the corner of my lip while mulling over his words. He was right—the sex had been amazing. If he kept his business away from me, maybe we could make it work.

  The coke had me feeling invincible; like I could take on the world. Maybe instead of locking myself away in the castle that was Hallett Hall, I should take a chance and let myself fall for someone.

  It was time for me to live a little.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s see where this goes.”

  He flashed his white teeth as he grinned. “I’m going to take such good care of you, Neve. Just you wait and see.”

  Chapter Two

  July…Age 22

  “Will Clint be in a good mood when he comes home tonight?” I whispered the words as I shook the black orb in my hand.

  ‘Don’t count on it’ appeared within the blue triangle and I let out a small sigh of disappointment.

  So much for a peaceful evening.

  Maybe relying on a Magic 8 ball to solve my problems wasn’t the best use of my time, but I had nowhere else to be. I’d become what my parents had feared most—an unemployed nobody, shacked up with her loser boyfriend.

  I certainly never saw it working out like that.

  “You either need to buy something or leave.” The store owner glared at me from the other side of the counter and I immediately felt guilty—as if I’d been doing something wrong.

  “I was just browsing—” I said calmly before he interrupted.

  “I know what you’re doing—you’re either casing the place or looking to shoplift. I don’t tolerate either; so get out.”

  I opened my mouth to protest when he pointed to the sign hanging on the door.

  ‘We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.’

  I tossed my purse over my shoulder and held my head high as I walked out. I guess novelty stores were cracking down on the types of customers they allowed.

  The bell chimed over the door as it swung shut behind me and I turned around with a smirk, middle finger in the air. That smirk faded the minute I caught my reflection in the glass.

  Is that what I looked like?

  No wonder he threw me out.

  My hair hung in unwashed clumps around my shoulders. My eyes were sunken in, cheeks concave. A fading yellow bruise was the only color on my ghost white skin.

  I lowered my hand and turned away. I couldn’t bear to stare at myself any longer. It was like staring at a stranger. The shopping center was almost empty, save for a handful of cars. Everyone was off enjoying their fourth of July weekend. I bet the Res was packed.

  The Boulder Reservoir was a popular hangout spot and this weekend would be no different. In another life, I would’ve been out there with friends.

  A lone desk chair rolled aimlessly across the parking lot as the breeze caught it and I found myself mesmerized by the sight of it.

  How had something like that ended up here?

  It was a great metaphor for my life. That chair and I had a lot in common. I should’ve graduated a couple of months ago. Instead, I was here, watching my life roll past. Looking back on it, I should’ve never allowed Paul to drag me upstairs. I should’ve thrown my beer in his face and run as far away as possible.

  I’d snorted another line before I left Clint that night, with promises to meet up the next day. As I’d taken the bus back to my dorm, I’d decided that I would continue seeing him, but only use if I had a lot of studying to get done.

  Unfortunately, I found that after a couple of lines, I could stay up all night. I wasn’t hungry when I was using either, so my fears of gaining the ‘freshman fifteen’ were alleviated as well. My grades improved a lot—since I didn’t require sleep, nothing could stop me.

  What goes up must come down though.

  I’d convinced myself that because Clint had personal feelings for me, he’d never let me get addicted. I had this crazy idea that he somehow had my best interests at heart.

  I was wrong.

  The man who started out being perfect, slowly became something else. In the beginning, he took me to the nicest restaurants in Denver and bought me gifts just because. By the time I realized that things weren’t as they seemed, I was caught in a downward spiral. I began skipping classes in favor of getting high and having sex with him. I craved the pleasure I got from it—coke alone wasn’t enough. I needed Clint just as badly.

  I was beyond addicted to cocaine and him, while he’d broken his own rule and gotten hooked on cocaine and H.

  Clint was no longer Clint.

  In his place was a temperamental monster. The insidiousness was subtle and his skill at hiding it was better than the mob. Once I’d sobered up enough to see how bad things had gotten, it was too late. The man I loved had been taken over by addiction.

  I’d known that cocaine use was highest among college-aged young adults and had always made the conscious decision to stay away from it and weed, hadn’t I? I learned much later that marijuana might’ve been the best choice for me back then. At least it would’ve diminished the stress over my grades.

  So, I made excuses for him—I said I’d never put up with abuse; then again, I also said I’d never do drugs. It was a bit like a lobster in a pot of water that was slowly getting hotter. By the time the lobster realized that something was wrong, it was too late—the damn thing had been boiled alive.

  There weren’t any shades of gray when it came to my relationship with Clint either. I’d seen enough over the years to know that I was firmly ensconced in ‘accomplice territory.’

  If the cops ever caught on to his illegal activities, I was going down as well.

  I noticed the owner of the shop watching me suspiciously, so I moved over a few buildings before sinking down onto the sidewalk.

  The breeze picked up again and the chair rolled a few feet to the left before coming to a stop. I’d never wanted to be an inanimate object more than I did in that exact moment.

  A drop of crimson hit the sidewalk between my legs, quickly followed by another. I stared at it in confusion until I realized it was coming from my nose. Again. I wiped at it with the back of my hand. Instead of being concerned, it just made me crave another hit.

  This had to be rock bottom. My life had become a vicious circle of white snow and blood red reminders that I needed a fix. I was headed nowhere—scratch that. I was headed toward my imminent death, yet I was too far gone to stop now.

  My mind no longer raced with thoughts of ‘coulda, woulda, shoulda.’ It was wholly occupied only with thoughts of the next bump.

  The most pathetic part was that I was
friggin’ content to continue living like this. At some point over the last few weeks, I’d reached acceptance. I was just like that chair, letting outside circumstances move me any which way they pleased.

  It’d been so long since I’d made up my own mind on anything—so long since I wasn’t under the influence of either cocaine or Clint.

  I told myself I was smarter than the drug; convinced myself that I could handle it. Instead, I was completely powerless against it all.

  I stood up and pinched my nostrils closed in a poor attempt to stop the bleeding. I inhaled through my mouth and immediately began coughing as the blood ran down the back of my throat.

  The chair continued its path across the parking lot, not even stopping to say goodbye.

  Lucky chair.

  It probably didn’t have a significant other, prone to murderous rages, waiting on it at home.

  The first thing I noticed when I turned the corner onto our street was that the house was dark. I took a hesitant step closer before I noticed the second thing—Clint’s truck wasn’t parked in the driveway.

  It didn’t matter what time of day it was; the house was always lit up like a runway. A beacon on the hill in Boulder, shining its light to lost junkies in need of a fix. I looked up and down the street, waiting to hear the deep rumble of his truck, but it remained empty.

  Quiet.

  Too quiet.

  I debated my options. I could either wait on the front porch for my boyfriend to show up, or I could put on my big girl panties and go inside to wait.

  I swallowed hard, the copper taste still heavy on my tongue, and pulled the house key from my purse. The lock stuck as I turned it and I had to throw my shoulder into the door as I forced it open.

  I almost fell headfirst into the living room floor, barely managing to catch myself at the last possible second. I shakily stood up and closed the door behind me; making sure it was locked in the process.