She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, yawning. She glanced at the alarm clock at her bedside: four AM. Wiping the spittle from the corners of her mouth, she woozily stood, surveying the damage. A encrusted pool on her carpet and a doozy of a hangover. She'd had worse. She unlocked her door and stole across the hallway for a wet towel.
She scrubbed the sour mess with all her might, intent on removing the stain and the stink. It would be more than slightly suspicious if her parents were to find a large sour spot on her floor. She sprayed a bleach solution onto the stain.
After she was sure that she had successfully removed it, she crept into the bathroom for a cold shower. Cold showers usually helped to pull her from the haze of a trip.
The torrents of icy water shot at her back. She breathed deeply as the water soaked into her hair, gently pulling the crusts from the strands and freeing it. She poured a dollop of shampoo into her palm, and began working it through her chin length hair.
"God, Ashley, talk about a night." She laughed sardonically.
After she had cleaned the grime of the flight, the night, and the overdose from her lean frame, she stepped out and dried herself off. Slipping into an oversized t-shirt, she crawled underneath her purple comforter. The baggies lay on her bedside table, calling her.
She rolled over, ignoring their voice as she drifted off to sleep.
The sun shone through her blinds, warming her face. She was slowly pulled from the depths of sleep. She opened her eyes, her body craving a line or two. She itched into the marrow of her every bone she wanted a line so badly. She rolled out of bed, preparing a haphazard line. She rolled the photo and snorted.
The grains flew into her nose, relieving the incessant itch as it began to flow into her bloodstream. She murmured in satisfaction, shivering with delight.
The line had given her the energy she had needed to get out of bed, and she quickly washed her face and got dressed. She brushed her hair, the past night's follies forgotten.
She sighed, picking up the phone and dialing the familiar number. It rang; someone picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Joey? Is Craig there?" Ashley twirled a short lock of hair.
"Ashley?" He sounded surprised. "Yea, let me get him."
She waited a few seconds before hanging up.
She fell back on her bed, fingering the baggy filled with powder. She toyed with the powder, pushing it around inside the bag. A small cluster of crystals had been left uncrushed by whoever had baked them. She crushed it with her thumb.
She tossed the baggy aside and opened the other one. Pulling two small tablets from the bag, she swallowed them dry. The small alligator embossed on both sides was meant to identify it from the other dealers. It seemed to shake its tail at her.
She stored the bag of pills in her jewelry box, safely stowing the other away in the bottom of her purse. After throwing on her worn pair of Chucks, she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs.
On the kitchen table, she found a note.
"Ashley - went grocery shopping, be back later. Love, Mom"
Ashley shrugged and grabbed a pen off the counter, scribbling alongside her mother's elegant scrawl.
"Mom - went to Ellie's. Home later. Love, Ashley"
Truth be told, she had no intention of going to Ellie's. She felt it best to come up with some destination to keep her mother from worrying too much.
As she stepped into the mid-morning sun, she felt the alligator swishing through her bloodstream. The grass was greener, the sun was brighter - even the concrete seemed to shine with new opportunity. She bounded out onto the sidewalk, practically skipping.
As she approached the Jeremiah house, she felt the bounce ease out of her step. After each pill, the euphoria faded more quickly. She turned into the park, stopping at a lone picnic table.
She pulled her school ID from her purse, and after pouring a small mound of powder from the bag, she began to form a perfect line. She rolled her straw and aimed for the inhale.
"Ashley!"
The little girl's voice broke her concentration. She wouldn't allow herself to sweep the line into the grass, so as fast as she could manage, she snorted the line. She quickly swept the residual powder into the grass, stuffing the bag into her purse.
"Ashley! Ashley!" Angela Jeremiah leapt onto Ashley's lap, hugging her fiercely. "Craig, look! It's Ashley!"
"Angie, hey!" Ashley hurriedly wiped her nose. "What are you doing here?"
"Craig took me to the park." Angela released her grip on Ashley. "What are you doing here?"
"I just went for a walk." Ashley glanced around. "Where's your brother?"
"Behind you." She jumped, startled by his voice resonating behind her.
Angela laughed, jumping from Ashley's lap and running to the swings nearby.
"Craig, push me!" She called, swinging her legs, attempting to swing herself.
"In a sec, Angie." Craig sat down beside her, and she a warm rush run through her body; she involuntarily shivered. "When'd you get back?"
"Last night." She looked at the ground, hoping her pupils weren't too dilated yet. "I was going to call but - "
"We have caller ID, Ash." He smiled at Angela as he stood.
Ashley didn't lift her gaze.
"Craig, I..." Her words fell to the ground.
"Save it, Ash." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You made it pretty clear what you wanted."
He walked over to Angela, pushing her in the swing. Ashley didn't bother to follow him. Ashley felt a tiny fist clenching her throat. She struggled to breathe. She hurriedly grabbed her purse and left the park.
In her rush, she failed to see a plastic baggy fall to the ground.
By the time she was back home and in her room, the fist had released its grasp, leaving her alone, crying on the floor. She opened her purse, searching for something -- anything -- to keep her afloat, only sobbing harder when her search turned up empty.
Her jewelry box. She remembered hiding the alligator pills in there. She leapt to her feet and tore open the jewelry box. The tiny, rotating ballerina fell from her post, leaving a whirling spring following the tinny music.
Ashley didn't bother to replace the ballerina; she nearly ripped open the bag with zeal. She hurriedly forced a small handful of the chalky pills down her dry throat, gagging as they caught. She ran across the hall, into the bathroom, filling a glass of water and gulping it down to wash the remaining bits down her throat.
Sighing with relief, she trudged back to her room. After setting a Phantom PLanet album on repeat, she lazily fell back onto her bed. She clutched the panda and waited to feel the euphoric glow that she had grown so accustomed to waking up and going to sleep with.
Her ceiling fan began to warp around itself, spinning like a discus. She felt her eyes cross as the fan fell in on itself. The light began to beam out, every separated particle of light falling to the ground like a tiny spark. She was mesmerized by the way each spark danced around her plush carpet before fizzling out.
She felt herself pulling away from the carpet, the sparks, the room. The familiar lyrics floated through her mind, the words writhing and twisting as they drifted in front of her eyes.
We've been on the run, driving in the sun, lookin' out for number one.
She saw herself, riding down the an open freeway, the wind toying with her hair. One of her hands hung loosely in the air, flowing with the breeze like an ocean wave. Her mouth was moving, but the words were garbled. She saw him; Craig. He was driving. He laughed and said something, but his words were drowned out.
In a whisper, she heard her own voice, disembodied.
"I love you."
His mouth moved, but the only sound she heard was a siren's blare.