I didn’t consider myself an addict, though that was the label the court system wanted to give me.

They said I needed help, an intervention.

What I needed was a new f**king life.

I picked out two pills and set them in my palm.

I stared at them, as if waiting for the mysteries of the f**king universe to be answered.

Come on. You know you want me. We’d have such a good time together, they whispered.

“You know how to make me feel better,” I murmured, rubbing the smooth surfaces with my thumb.

Yeah, I was freaking crazy. Talking to my drugs was a sure sign of a serious mental break.

I had homework to do. I was struggling to stay above water. I was so damned close to graduating. I had made it this far. I made sure I did just well enough that I wouldn’t flunk out.

I owed it to Landon to try to make something of myself. I owed it to my dead parents, who had thought the boy they left behind was worth something.

The problem was I had lost all taste for the life everyone thought I should have.

The only taste I had was for the two tiny pills in my hand.

Never one for prolonging the inevitable, I popped the little pieces of happy in my mouth and crunched them with my teeth before swallowing.

I loved that moment when my arms went slack and my feet sort of disappeared. My mouth hung open, and my eyes drooped. My head stopped buzzing, and I stared at the TV, which wasn’t even turned on.

I’m not sure how long I sat there in my shitty apartment, staring at the dark screen, when my phone started ringing.

Ring, ring.

Ring, ring.

I patted the cushion beside me, but the phone wasn’t there. My head rolled to the side, and I tried to open my eyes, but they weren’t cooperating. My lips stretched into a smile. Damn, I felt awesome.

Ring, ring.

There it was. My phone sat on the coffee table, just by my feet, which were propped up beside it. Maybe my arms could stretch out and I could reach it, because right now they felt abnormally long.

I wished it would stop ringing. It hurt my ears, and I just wanted to lie there and think about nothing. Do nothing. Be nothing.

But it wouldn’t stop. It kept f**king ringing.

Didn’t the person on the other end realize I had more to do than answer the f**king phone?

I hoisted myself up and ever so slowly grabbed at the phone that just wouldn’t shut up.

I fumbled with the buttons as though my fingers had forgotten how to work. I laughed at how ridiculous it was.

Finally I connected the call and lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” My voice sounded strange. No, it sounded like I was trying to have a good time. Fuck this f**ker who was interrupting it.

“Fucking hell, man, I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour! Don’t you f**king know how to answer a goddamned phone?” the voice yelled into my ear.

I frowned.

“What?” I asked belligerently.

“What? Are you f**king serious? You were supposed to be here two hours ago! Gash is pissed. You know how he f**king gets when he’s pissed. Get your ass here now!” the voice roared.

“Is this Marco Polo?” I asked, sounding garbled.

“Are you f**king high again? That’s the only reason you’d risk an ass-kicking by calling me that. You’re supposed to be selling that shit. Gash is gonna shove it up your ass if you come here f**ked-up. You were supposed to have the new location sorted already. It’s f**king Thursday, man. Please tell me you’ve found a place,” Marco begged, sounding panicked.

I knew I should probably be panicked too. Gash was not a guy you messed with. Marco was one of the doormen at Compulsion and had been a buddy of mine for a long time. He was also the guy who shaved a bit of extra cash off the intake every Saturday—cash that nicely lined our pockets. Between my drugs and his sticky fingers of stealthiness, we had created a nice little side business that was proving pretty profitable for both of us.

And the truth was I hadn’t found a location for the club yet. There were a couple of promising prospects. An old factory the next town over, a field on the outskirts of the city. But I had been busy. Between school, community service, and making sure Landon was taken care of, I was strapped for time.

But Compulsion was my bread and butter. It was how I made the money to stay at school. It’s where I sold the drugs that kept me afloat and put food in my baby brother’s mouth. I shouldn’t be shitting where I slept.

But I just didn’t care—not when I was feeling so f**king awesome.

“It’s all good, man. Stop stressing,” I slurred, rubbing at my bottom lip. My mouth felt numb. I could barely feel my tongue in my mouth. I stuck my tongue out and poked it with my finger.

I laughed. It was hysterical!

“Damn it! You need to get over here now! You need to tell Gash where we’ll be on Saturday. If you don’t, he’ll staple your balls to your ass,” Marco threatened, and I knew he wasn’t being dramatic. He was telling the f**king truth.

Gash was one scary dude.

I dropped the phone on the floor. The oxy had really kicked in, and my hands couldn’t hold the device anymore. I leaned over and tried to make my fingers pick it up.

Finally I was able to get it back to my ear.

“I’m coming over there,” Marco stated, and I snorted.

“Sure, come and get me. I sure as f**k ain’t driving,” I mumbled, hanging up the phone.

I closed my eyes, hoping I could enjoy the rest of my high in peace. I just needed a few minutes. That was it.