Toby didn't speak to me for three whole weeks. I didn't really know what he was so mad about. I think it's sweet that he wanted to…. protect my honor, or whatever, but the whole concept seemed kind of futile to me. There was nothing left to protect. Blow job for a bracelet, blow job for some ice. It wasn't that big a deal, really. It was easy to swallow my pride to get drugs because, at that point, I didn't have any.

I probably shouldn't have let Toby walk away that night at the ravine. I should have been paying more attention. I should have realized that Toby was slipping further and further away. He hadn't been the same since the night he went after Amy with a knife. He never would be again. Occasionally, he would talk about Rick speaking to him in dreams, or about the FBI watching his house. Dark, rambling, batshit-crazy kind of talk. Red flags. I should have known that the meth was getting to him. That he was losing it. That I was losing him. I never should have let him walk away.

But in that moment, talking to Amy, Toby was the last thing on my mind. I was consumed, utterly and completely, by the goal of getting high again.

I let Toby go, thinking he would be calling me the next day as usual. Toby always came back to me, after all. But not this time. This time he disappeared. God only knows what crazy shit was going through his mind when he started spending all his time alone. I'll never know now. I was too fucked up to really even notice he was gone.

Once Amy introduced me to her not-so-secret bargaining chip, at least half of the drugs I got hold of were paid for with sex. It was like a front-of-the-line pass. I got more shit, I got the better shit, I got it faster, and I got it more often. All because I was willing to throw in that little something extra. Spinner was so proud.

I never slept. My eyes and ears were always open, waiting vigilantly for that next window of opportunity. The whole time I was high, I would only be thinking about one thing: when would I be able to get high again? The end of the high was always looming closer, and I was consumed by the perpetual fear of accidentally sobering up again. Waiting for the bullet to hit.

We were high all the time, and I was sucking dick all the time, and that's how almost a monthwent by.

I sat slumped in a ratty lawn chair, six shades of drunk, watching the familiar glow of that ravine fire. Who keeps that fire burning? I wondered to myself, barely noticing as the brown glass bottle in my hand slipped lazily out of my weak fingers. Every week I came to this same shithole, and every week there was a fire. Someone must have brought the logs, someone must have kept stoking the embers. Who makes something like the ravine happen? It was one of dozens of answerless questions that had been haunting me.

There was a young couple making out next to me, probably niners. I barked drunkenly at them for a few moments and managed to pry them away from each other long enough to bum a cigarette. I held it out, torching the end of it with the roaring fire, and walked away, puffing and grumbling to myself.

Spinner was working that night, and I was broke. I couldn't get high and I couldn't see my boyfriend and the only thing I could do about it was drink at the ravine and pout. I watched, through my bitter haze, the sluts and drug addicts wandering around me. Hating them, hating myself, fucking sick of everything. Wishing I hadn't dropped my beer. Wishing for the sweet, sparkling release of ice to wash away the filth this place made me feel.

I slipped on the gravel by one of the picnic tables and fell down fast, faster than my brain could even register. I moaned in pain as I touched my lip, which was bleeding.

"What are you looking at?" I slurred coldly to someone who laughed as they walked past. I could feel my hip start to bruise.

"Emma? Emma, are you okay?"

Gently, I felt familiar hands help me to my feet again. When I was standing, I saw Toby in front of me, though he was barely recognizable. Unwashed hair, bloodshot eyes, cracked dry lips. I never should have let him walk away.

"Oh… Toby…" I said, placing my hands on his shoulders. He had a strange, incessant shakiness about him. It was scary. "How are you? I haven't talked to you in so long."

He sniffled, rubbing his nose, nodding. "I know, I… don't really come here any more. I got this guy at Lakehurst I've been getting most of my stuff from so I just… I just stay at home mostly." He scratched the back of his neck, unable to stop his foot from thumping wildly. I hated seeing him so wrecked. I just wanted to hold him. "But I couldn't get hold of him tonight so I figured I'd come by here… see if I could score anything."

I nodded. "Oh. I see. Any luck?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Fucking drought." He paused for a moment, breathing fast, looking sad. Remembering all at once why he stopped talking to me in the first place. He thought I was a whore. And maybe he was right. "So how's…. everything else?"

I held my breath for a moment. There was a strange implication in that question. Everything else, meaning life outside of drugs. Meaning life was ice, and everything else was just filler. All those empty, blurry, mundane things that merely passed the time between highs. Ever so faintly, I could feel the thought sting what little soul I had left. But I knew Toby hadn't meant for it to be insulting. It was as much a reality for him as it was for me. Only in fleeting moments of clarity could we ever question it.

I shrugged, forcing a smile. Pretend normal. Pretend happy. "Things are going good, I guess," I answered. "Wish we didn't have school tomorrow. I've got this killer Biology test I haven't studied for."

He nodded thoughtfully, but didn't offer any other response. It was painful and boring to talk about everything else.

In the corner of my periphery, I spotted Jay. I'd been keeping my eyes peeled for him all night. I knew he couldn't help me find any ice, but lately he'd had a pretty steady supply of oxycodone. At the very least, I figured it would be nice to get some sleep at some point. The good kind of sleep. Drugsleep.

I tried to think of a tactful way to ditch Toby. It only took one glimpse of the possibility of scoring a hit, and already I was over the wave of emotion and nostalgia I had for seeing Toby. "Nice seeing you," I said, shaky deadness in my voice. "But um, I should get going. I told Spinner I would… meet him… you know."

My feet carried me quickly away from Toby, in a bee line towards Jay, my lame excuse tumbling aimlessly out of my lips. Jay usually smiled when he saw me, not because we were real friends or anything, but because he was either wildly amused by me or liked making me feel uncomfortable. When I came into his line of view this time, though, no shift of disposition came to his face. He might have even rolled his eyes.

"What's up, Jay?" I asked, as flirtatiously as possible.

Jay shrugged. "The usual to and fro," he answered. "What do you need?"

I felt it again, another sting in my stomach. There was no reason for niceties with me, and he knew it. He knew it was easiest to get right down to business. He knew I only had one thing on my mind, twenty-four-seven.

I shifted my weight from side to side. "Got any pills?"

He nodded. "Not much, but I got some. Ten each."

"Ten?" It would take at least three pills for me to even feel anything. Four would have been ideal. "Kinda steep, don't you think?"

"Times are tough. Even I've been to class once or twice, Em, enough to know that a decrease in supply equals an increase in demand. Increase in demand means I rake in the profits where I can."

Jay Hogart, the economist. I could literally feel my face falling in disappointment. "I've only got twenty on me, but I was kind of hoping to get my hands on four pills."

Jay laughed. Coldly. "Well that's some shitty math then, ain't it?"

I twisted my brittle, thinning hair around my brittle, thinning finger. I pouted my bleeding lips and gave him the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could manage. "I was thinking we could work out a trade."

I moved my tiny hands towards him, touching his warm body. He scoffed and smacked my hand away. "Ah, get over yourself, Emma. That shit won't work on me. I've gotten a lot more from you for a lot less. The 'good girl gone wrong' thing isn't impressing anyone any more, toots. Just look at your drunk ass. You're fucking bleeding, Emma. You're just as ho-y as all the other ravine hoes now… You're basically just Amy with smaller tits. Time for you to find a new gimmick. And time for me to find some real customers."

Snickering, he left me alone, clutching my arms around my chest.