I own nothing.
_____________________________________________________
Smoke hangs in lazy circles around my head, floating slowly towards the ceiling. I watch them spiral up higher and higher, before disappearing into the yellowing wallpaper. My body feels heavy. Full of lead. I don't think I could get up off the bed if my life depended on it. In just this moment, I'm lost. But I'm lost in every moment. And lying here on this threadbare bed under a cracked ceiling, time seems to press in on me from all sides.
Loud footsteps from outside make the heavy load vanish for a minute, and I shoot up, grinding the rest of my cigarette under my foot.
"Fuckin', goddamn, shit-faced-" If the footsteps hadn't alerted me that sure would've. I lay back down on the bed, feeling for the switchblade in the pocket of my jeans. A foot kicks open the door, letting it slam against the wall. Another dent in the yellow walls...another dent...
"What're you lookin' at, kid?" Dallas stomps in and stands, framed by the doorway, staring at me. A dim streetlight somewhere down the road flickers as his head bobs in front of it. I shrug.
"He shrugs. He shrugs!" he mumbles to himself as he stumbles towards the bathroom. I hear him retching, cursing, falling. I light another cigarette, crack open a window. Dallas walks back in, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He stops at the foot of the bed, eyeing it suspiciously.
"They ain't that dirty." I nod at the sheets.
"You think I care?" He flops down on the bed, elbowing me out of the way. We're both silent for a second. I rub my side where he elbowed me, though it doesn't hurt.
"You talk to Buck today?" I blow out another smoke ring.
"Hell no," He snorts, rolling over.
"We need the money."
"And you think I'm gonna get the dough rollin' in working in that shithole? No way, kid," He sighs, kicking his shoes off. "No way."
I groan, and roll off the bed. Kicking open the ice box on the floor, I dig around for a moment. I'm hungry. Nothing looks good. All old, frozen food looks the same. The memory of chocolate cake fills me suddenly, and I slam the door shut. I'm not hungry. Dallas moans and throws up. Rubbing my forehead, I grab a bucket, half full of water from the ceiling and put it on his side of the bed.
"You mind?" I ask sarcastically.
"Keep your trap shut," He snaps, but without quite the usual bite. He dry heaves once more before slamming a fist against the protesting mattress.
"If you won't deal with Buck, I will," I say, poking him in the ribs. Vomit chucks splatter on the side walk as I dump the bucket outside, shouting back inside.
"Someone has to earn some fucking money around here!" I slam the door shut and put the bucket back under the leak. "I'm sick of frozen burritos."
"You think I like 'em any better?" He snaps. "I don't know why you even bother eating them. You'd be better off eating dirt."
"And that's why I can see all your ribs."
"Fuck off." He turns away from me and is asleep within minutes. I sigh, pulling a chair up next to the bed. Ready for another long night. I owe it to him.
Reviews are greatly appreciated, even flames. It's all helpful to me.