This is my own story, my own works, my own imagination.
Enjoy
He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, left leg crooked under his right as he examined the joint. His large hands were meticulous as he rolled it between his fingers, held it under his nose to inhale the pungent scent, then picked up a Bic pen to pack the ends.
She rolled her eyes at him. All of the things he could do in the world and he was the world's best joint roller.
"You know, it's too bad you can't get paid for that. I bet you'd make a fortune." She pointed out with an eyebrow raised.
He didn't even toss her a glance. "Mhmm." Another tap to the clipboard he was using before scraping the thin lip of the Zig Zag paper pack to gather any leftover weed into a pile.
Messy brown hair fluttered with each movement as he bent over his leg to scoop up the remnants of dried green leaves and push them into the ends of his joint before packing it again with the end of the pen. Once it was exactly how he wanted it, he stuck it behind his ear and brought his bright green eyes to hers, smiling widely.
If only he paid her as much attention as he paid the weed.
Indulging him, she smiled back -though she thought it felt more like a grimace- and stood from the bed. She'd been waiting to go outside with the dog for over a half an hour and he was finally ready. Grabbing the leash off the back of the closet door, she called to the pitbull who hopped over excitedly, waiting for her to hook the leash to his harness.
"Easy, boy." She murmured, wrapping the leash around her palm and petting the large black dog on his head.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." He said, jovially as he slipped his arms into his coat. He was always in a much better mood when he knew he was going to get high.
She never saw the appeal. After trying it a few times, she realized she just didn't like the feeling she got. Sure, she felt blissed out and light but her mouth would feel like sandpaper and she would eat and eat and eat for no reason other than that her brain said she had to.
No. She could do without all of that.
Instead, she followed him out the door and opened her pack of cigarettes. These tasted way shittier than weed did, especially the Blue Dream he preferred, but they didn't leave her paranoid and jumpy. The nicotine flowed through her veins, slowing her heartbeat and relaxing her even as Moose jumped around her, yanking her arm out of socket with his excitability.
"You going down that end of the yard?" He asked as Moose yet again yanked her in that direction and she nodded. He thumbed behind him toward the right side of the house where the wood pile rested and she nodded again.
Still pissed at him for his attitude earlier, she did what she always did. Refused to speak to him until he was higher than a kite. Once he had glassy red eyes, she could sit next to him and talk to him about anything because he would find humor in it all -not anger.
As she walked around the expansive backyard with Moose, she took drag after drag of her cigarette before snubbing it out on the lawn and pocketing the filter. She would dump it in the trash bin on her way back into the house. The waft of berry scented pot passed her nose as she stood at the far end of the yard and she inhaled deeply. This was the scent she loved. Not the first exhale standing right next to him, no. She liked the excess breeze from meters away. It didn't smell so skunky to her and she knew it wouldn't stick to her clothes.
Once they were back inside and they sat on the bed together, he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, pressing a sloppy, stinky kiss to her cheek. She squealed and squirmed as his arms created an iron prison around her, wiping his saliva so he repeated the process until she admitted defeat and let the slobber stay. He grinned triumphantly, his bloodshot eyes staring into hers.
"I love you." He said softly, his gruff voice mellow.
"I love you too. Lemme off." She said with a grin. He obliged with an over exaggerated sigh and she giggled as she settled in next to him against the headboard. She did love him. She loved him so much but he infuriated her sometimes to the point that she felt homicidal.
He looked around the small two bedroom apartment that consisted of two large bedrooms, a hallway leading to each one and a large bathroom-kitchen combo in the center. Their bedroom had a loveseat under the far window, directly ahead of their queen sized bed where they sat, a sideboard filled to the brim with necessities like a Keurig and a water kettle, and a bookshelf that was cluttered. She followed his gaze as he let his high consume him. A small two drawer end stand sat on her left with a lamp and tissue box on top. On his right was another small end stand that did not match the first. It held his 42" tv and random knick knacks he'd collected over the years. Next to that was a 4 drawer dresser with his PS4 on it and next to that stood a small black file cabinet with a printer on top.
Their life was fairly sparse with only her working to provide for them and her two kids from her first marriage, but they had love.
Most of the time.
It was times like tonight, when he was passing out sitting up with a toothpick hanging out of his face, that she thought she was at the end of her rope. He'd had a good job. Worked 40 hours a week plus overtime at good pay. They were saving money and having a good time, taking the kids out to dinners or buying them video games.
Sometimes though, she wondered what made him tick. Why did he quit his job? Why didn't he act like she was good enough for him until he was high? She felt like a failure in a failed relationship that she couldn't get out of.
She could, she supposed. But she loved him. She loved him so much that it hurt. Maybe that wasn't healthy.
Just as she turned the lamp off to settle into bed, the tv on his side of the room glaring brightly enough for her to still maneuver around, he woke up. His dark hair stuck up in all directions and she chuckled at his wide eyed expression. He really hadn't been asleep long. Though if she called him out on it, he would say he was just resting his eyes.
Standing from the bed, she watched as he slipped a shirt over his head, hiding his marvelous, chiseled body from view. She let her eyes fall to his crotch as he pulled sweatpants over his boxer briefs and knew she'd been caught daydreaming when he wiggled his hips with an eyebrow waggle and a grin.
Blushing, she met his eyes from under her lashes and shrugged a shoulder. She couldn't help that she found him so attractive. His body was one that should be worshipped with his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and an enormous cock.
Too bad it doesn't get enough blood flow when he's this high.
Exhaling sharply with her thoughts, she turned her back on him as he left the room only to return a few moments later from the kitchen-bathroom with a tall glass of…
"That looks like diabetes in a cup." She snorted as she saw the nasty concoction he'd created.
Licking his lips with a lascivious expression on his face, he spooned the mixture in his cup with a long 'mmm'.
"Seriously, if you looked at me like that and licked me like that," She said as he took a long lick of the spoon he pulled out of the sloppy mix. "we would be much happier in bed."
Rolling his eyes, he mock growled at her before digging into his 'food'. "What even is that?" She asked him.
Chewing obnoxiously and swallowing hard before answering, he didn't even turn his gaze to her as he gathered another spoonful. "Milk, sugar, Debbie cakes, chocolate chip cookie, and chocolate syrup." He then pushed a large spoonful into his mouth and turned his attention to the tv.
Gagging, her eyes bulged out of her head. "Nasty."
"No."
She nodded, even though he wasn't looking at her. "Yes."
"Nope."
She wasn't winning that one and she knew what nasty was. It was in that cup that was going to give him a heart attack. Or high cholesterol.
Lying on her side, facing her end table, she was woken up by a heavy arm being thrown over her and pulling her into a warm body. His cock was hard and she pushed her ass against him as his hot breath fanned across the back of her neck. He was always so attentive when he was sleeping, until she tried to participate or get him to wake up. He would push her away or kick his leg out, leaving her shin bruised. He always said he didn't know he did it, that he couldn't be faulted for what he did in his sleep, but she felt unwanted anyway.
"Hey, can you pack that for me?" He asked as he handed her the psychedelic green and purple glass bowl. He had just finished cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and Q-tips and had run to the bathroom to wash his hands of resin. She rolled her eyes and started meticulously grinding the dried leaves of Sour Diesel in the black grinder she'd bought him for his birthday.
Once she had a good helping set aside, she did exactly what he did, using her thumb to press the leaves into the bowl of the pipe tightly for a better burn. He returned from the bathroom and swiped the pipe from her hands without so much as a thank you and set it on the dresser. Pulling his boots on, he paused when he saw she was just staring at him, unmoving.
"You coming?" He asked.
"Moose doesn't have to go out right now and I just smoked a half hour ago." She said as lightly as she could. Her insides were roiling. She was tired of the push-pull with him. One moment he was all happy smiles and the next he was cold with her.
His eyes turned angry and he pushed his foot into his other boot. "What the fuck? You knew I was getting ready to go smoke. Why would you do that?"
She knew why he was really angry. He didn't like walking through the house, where the landlord lives downstairs, smelling like weed. The nicotine scent from her cigarettes combined with his cologne that he sprayed on his jacket before coming back in the house helps to hide the skunk spray smell. If the landlord knew he was smoking pot, even though it's legal now, they would probably get kicked out.
Rather, he would get kicked out because the landlord was her family member. That was another reason altogether. He didn't think they liked him very much and though she did her best to reassure him that wasn't the case, it really was. She just didn't want to deal with the issues that would arise if she admitted that fact, so she omitted instead.
Shrugging nonchalauntly, she opened her phone and started scrolling through her apps absentmindedly, ignoring his heated glare. He sat down heavily in front of her, giving her puppy dog eyes. He knew she couldn't resist and would admit defeat quicker if he used coercion instead of anger. Keeping her eyes on her phone, knowing his little tactic, she thinned her lips so she wouldn't quirk a smile. He knew he had her when he saw her lip twitch and with a sharp, 'aha!' he stood from the bed.
Trying to take her absolute slowest time, she eased herself from the bed and stood up before pulling her boots on. He hovered by the bedroom door, eagerly with eyes lit up like a little boy on Christmas morning. His hair waved around with each shift from foot to foot and she stifled another grin.
"Come on! Come on…" He cooed at length. "Let's go, hurry up!"
"Jesus, will you calm down? I'm coming." She griped playfully as she grabbed her coat off the end of the bed and yanked it on. "Come 'ere, Moose!" She said cheerfully.
This time she stood near him, contemplating as she often did, if she should take a small hit off his bowl. She knew though that it would make her feel like crap so she promised herself she would have a cookie instead. Their girl gave them free cookie samples each time he bought an ounce. They were tiny inch sized cookies made with THC butter and molasses with little sprinkles of sugar on top. She couldn't stand the taste of them but the molasses helped a little bit. The only reason she ate them -breaking the one inch cookies into 10 pieces, giving her 10 different servings- was so she would be able to sleep.
He always told her it was a waste of a high, eating the piece of cookie right before bed but what he didn't get still was that she didn't like being high. She liked the pain-free, blissful feeling but that was all. At least if she was sleeping she wouldn't get the munchies and she always had a bottle of water at the ready for 2am when she would wake up with cottonmouth.
Two months went by with him buying, packing, smoking weed and he still didn't have a job. He swore he would stop smoking enough to test clean and get one soon but he still hadn't done it. Right now, he wasn't even home. He took the money he was saving for a new place and drove out of state to visit his family. She knew he missed his son dearly and she couldn't blame him. The tiny blonde haired boy was adorable with wide green eyes that matched his daddy's and an infectious giggle. She missed him as well but without his income and now he'd taken whatever savings they'd had, she was shit out of luck.
He had told her he would only be gone for 3 days. He would visit with the family, get his son for the weekend, then drive home. She had gotten ready for bed excited for the 3 day vacation when he called only a few hours into the trip down and informed her he would be staying for a week. What had him changing his mind already? Sure he'd get to see his child another weekend and that in and of itself was incentive enough but why couldn't he tell her that before hand? What changed?
She was so sick of it all. She was sick of the weed, sick of the diabetic comas he would find himself in when he ate those nasty concoctions. Sick of doing all of it herself. What really threw her over the edge was when he refused to answer her texts or calls while he was gone. When he would text back he was short and when he did finally call her and she berated him, he hung up on her.
She knew he was cheating. She wasn't stupid. His family would lie for him and he thought he could come back to her apartment and everything would be okay. It's really too bad. She could've thrown his weed stash away or sold it if he hadn't loaded that in the car too. She did have his PS4 and 42" tv though!
He showed back up, a week and a half of vacation later, with a wide smile and open arms. She was so tempted to kiss those lips and let him wrap her up in a hug. The landlord was gone, the kids were in school, they had the whole house to themselves. He pulled his luggage out of the back of his hatchback and turned toward her.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" He asked, incredulously as he stared down the barrel of his own Kahr .45 pistol. They had bought it together, splitting the price, over 3 years ago but he'd never let her use it, shoot it, or wear it. It was his, just like everything else of his. "Put that down!" He yelled at her, his eyes outraged, his stance tense.
"Stay the fuck right there." She said calmly and coldly, her eyes matching her voice. She held the pistol in her hands with a firm grip. Her feet were shoulder width apart and her hair was tied back so the wind wouldn't blow it into her eyes. "I'm tired of you being a lazy asshole and apparently this is how it's going to go. Either you get in that car and get the fuck out of my life for good or I put a bullet in your skull and splatter your brains all over the back of your car."
Staring at her stunned, he thought of all the possibilities there were for them. The sharp green-blue of her eyes were laser focused on his, her soft blonde hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck. Her fitted jacket hugged her breasts like a glove just like her jeans did her hips. He loved this girl with all his heart and he knew he'd been acting offish lately but he'd had a good reason.
He was too stubborn to tell her though. He couldn't believe she would pull a gun on him. She wanted him out of her life? Why?
"...Why?" He whispered, contemplating how this would go when she finally put the gun down. Obviously she thought she just wanted him gone. He wouldn't push her buttons and she would smile and hug him, telling him it was all a sick joke in a few minutes.
Her expression never wavered. "I'm not stupid. I know you cheated on me." He opened his mouth to refute that statement but she cut him off. "Don't fucking lie to me!" She screamed. She'd had enough! "You didn't answer any calls or texts, you treated me like I was nothing! You went 700 fucking miles away for your fucking son supposedly but you couldn't even call me!? I can't deal with it! All you do is smoke pot and sit on your ass playing video games or watching those fucking adult cartoons! I'm over it!" She continued screaming, keeping her eyes locked on his.
"Please, don't. Just put it down. I swear-" Afraid of her reaction, he didn't dare move a muscle. The pistol was loaded and ready to fire, he could see the safety was off. This wasn't just some sick joke.
"I'm so fucking tired of everything smelling like pot. So fucking tired of my children asking why it smells like skunk in my room! Tired of having to do everything your goddamn way when you can't even keep a fucking job. Get in that car and go or I drop you." Her voice had started off cold and loud and now was eerily calm and low.
"Just let me…" His hand twitched toward his front jeans pocket and she pulled the trigger. The loud cracking noise split the air around them and bounced off the trees, creating an echo. Birds flew from their perches and chipmunks scurried away quickly. Moose started barking in the house.
He dropped like a rock, the bullet connecting with his forehead, the force of the blow knocking his head back before his body finally fell to the ground. Blood, hair, and brain matter sprayed over the back of his open hatchback and she grinned.
Kneeling down next to his head, she kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his cheek, relishing his stunned expression. Feeling freer than she had in 4 long years, she sighed a long breath of relief. She shoved the .45 into the holster at the back of her jeans with a smile. It took her quite a long time to get him loaded into the back of his car with his luggage and she was glad that it was raining. Like a gift from God himself, it started downpouring and it washed the blood away easily. She drove for a few miles and took a side road on the edge of town, driving until the pavement ended and gravel began.
Humming to herself, she grabbed his weed case, which was heavy with product still and set it on the floor by the pedals when she got out of the car. Hauling him back out, she set him on the hood of the car, using all of her strength and panting hard from exertion. She was completely soaked through by the time she was done moving everything around and clearing her fingerprints from the surfaces she'd been careless to touch.
He lived with her and they were a couple so it was bound to be that her fingerprints would be found in the car in some places but everyone knew she didn't drive his car, ever. He never let her.
Leaving the driver's side door open, she used a long branch to push the weed case against the gas pedal and fell back onto her ass as the branch got caught in the door when the car rolled forward. Crashing into the deep, rushing waters of the river she'd parked facing, the small silver car was carried away, along with his body.
Smirking to herself, she walked the few miles home with her sloppy clothes and boots. She'd been smart enough to leave her phone at home, thankfully or it would've been ruined. A few familiar cars passed her after she'd made her way back to the main road but she kept on trudging. By the time she made it back, she realized she had a half an hour before the kids would be home. She wasn't sure when the landlord would be back but that didn't matter. At least she would be able to shower and dry off before her kids saw her.
It was later that night when her phone went off. She checked to see a message from his sister, asking if he'd made it home safely. She sent a quick reply of 'no not yet', before grabbing her kids in a tight hug and kissing them on the cheeks as she sent them off to bed.
"What did you do today?" Her mom asked when she called a little while later.
"Oh, just a little weeding." She sighed happily, snickering to herself.
What she didn't know was that in his pocket, the one his hand twitched toward, was a black velvet box. He'd gone to see his family and retrieve an heirloom. There were no other women, was no ill-intent. He was going to ask her to marry him. He'd been an ass to her because he'd been stressed about it and the more he was an ass, the more she pulled away which made him more stressed. He'd gone to visit his family to give them space but it'd only made things worse.
Way worse.