Not for the Faint of Heart

A story that I wrote in October 2008.

"Ice"

A ridiculous rap song plays just loud enough to keep me from being able to think at all. I flip the visor down and check my reflection once more. My eyes aren’t too bloodshot. I’m sure no one would notice anyway, they will probably all have bloodshot eyes themselves. My boyfriend, Tucker, turns up the music to be certain his system is heard as his car approaches our destination for the evening – James’ party. James’ parents are out of town, of course. In their absence, James has turned their huge house into the only place to be.

We step out of the car and the chill of the evening takes me by surprise. Taking notice of my shiver, Tucker offers me his oversized sweatshirt. I pull it over my head with a big smile and shove my hands deep in the front pocket. I’m already buzzing from the few hits I had of the joint before we left his house. I probably won’t smoke anymore tonight.

Someone said they’d have other drugs at this party. I hope that’s not true. No, it can’t be. Tuck wouldn’t bring me anywhere like that, right?

My thoughts are interrupted by a drunk guy, offering me a drink, and I wonder if he even knows my name. Girls I’ve never met scream in delight as I walk in the room and they rush to hug me, ‘Oh my god, how are you?’ asks one. ‘I had no idea you were going to be here!’ says another.

“That’s James,” another girl says, whispering in my ear and pointing to the drunk guy, “if you don’t let him get you a drink, I will. He’s loaded. Look at this house. Not to mention, he is so hot. Jump on that.” The other two chime in, “he’s so hot, seriously.”

Smiling in his direction, I agree to accept a drink and he brings back something so fruity I can’t even taste alcohol.

I’m fresh out of a very conservative Christian school – about 3 months now – I know nothing of drugs or booze except for the few encounters with weed I’ve had in the past couple of weeks. I don’t know that ecstasy is the reason for the girl infatuated with playing with my hair, and other girls with glow sticks in the kitchen. I don’t know not to accept a cup that someone else made me. I don’t know much about any of this scene, really.

I’m bored with this room, these giggly girls, and intrusive guys. I should find Tucker. I think someone said he was outside for a smoke. Sure enough, through the sliding glass door, I see his back and then I see smoke creep slowly from his silhouette.

I open the door and grin, “Tuck, Aren’t ya cold?”

As he turns around, I expect to see a cigarette in his hands, a joint, or maybe even a bong. I’m taken aback when he does turn at the revelation of what he is holding: a light bulb in one hand, and a lighter in the other.

What is that? Can I even ask what it is? They will all think I’m so stupid. They probably already think I’m already lame. I am the youngest one here, after all. Well, I’m not doing it, whatever it is.

“Umm, Tucker, can I please talk to you?” I ask, frantically trying to keep my cool.

“Sure, baby, let’s go inside,” He says, reassuringly, as he hands off the paraphernalia to one of several guys who haven’t taken their eyes off of it.

He knows what I’m going to ask. He has to know. He knows my innocence. His friends have already made fun of him because I won’t sleep with him. They call me prude. I don’t care.

“Look, it’s not a big deal we were just… ”

“Stop it. Spare me. What was that?!”

“It was ice. Seriously, babe, it’s not a big deal. Everyone does it.”

“I don’t do it, Tucker. Neither should you. What is ice, anyway?”

“Crystal meth.” He laughs. Then smiling at me, tries to recover “I love how you don’t know these things, it’s so cute.” He says, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’m starting to not feel well. I just want to go home, Tuck.”

“Ok, I’ll take you now. Let me just find my keys and cigarettes.”

“No. You’re not driving me anywhere… I just watched you smoke out of a light bulb. A light bulb. This shit is insane. I’ll stay put for a while. Thanks.” Sarcastic, angry, and bitter, I roll my eyes at him and leave the room in search of any familiar face.

My stomach hasn’t stopped tying itself in knots since I got here. But something else is starting to come over me. I’m so hot all of a sudden. My hands feel so cold and I touch them to my face in an attempt to test for a fever, but my face is so hot that it feels as if it’s burning my fingers. I feel like I’m on fire. Just as I near the stairs, I see James in a bedroom to my left. He’s alone. He sees me and calls for me.

“I don’t feel well. I’ve never been so hot in my life. I think I need to go home.”

“Here… Lie down in here and no one will bother you, I’ll go out and you can change and lie down. It’s my house, don’t worry. You’ll be fine, and in a few hours, or even in the morning, once there are some sober people around here you can get a ride home. Okay?”

I don’t care to respond to what he’s saying, I just start taking off the sweatshirt that was suffocating me. He quickly leaves and closes the door behind him. I want to shout thanks, but I’m too tired.

How am I so tired all of a sudden? It’s like I can’t even get my body to respond to what I’m telling it to do…

Before I can begin to think about even turning off the lights, I’m out.

When it feels as though I’ve just fallen asleep, I wake to an unfamiliar pain. I try to scream, but I can’t. I can’t speak at all.

The room is dark but for the faint light shining under the door, and all is silent but for the thoughts screaming in my head.

What is going on? Where am I? I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember? I have to get up. I’m so tired, though. What is that pain? Why can’t I move? Come on, leg, MOVE! Just make it to the door and you can find someone to help you. Tell you where you are, take you home. Something. Just get up.

Trying desperately to focus my eyes on anything in the room, I can make out that I’m in a bed. But whose? Where? Tucker. I was at Tucker’s. But wait… then we were in the car. Where did we go? What day is it? Is it morning? I’m in a bed. I’m not alone. I’m overwhelmed with a strange pain that I can’t explain. Oh, god. Make it stop.

Suddenly everything goes black and I can feel my breathing slow as I drift off to sleep again.

I wake as the morning sun fills the room in what I am convinced is an attempt to blind me. The light pours in through a window facing the bed. I stretch my arms and legs only to realize that my whole body is sore, and reality floods my mind and body the same way the morning sun fills this room now. Sitting up as quickly as I can, I see that I’m alone, and my clothes are on the floor next to the bed. I’m at James’ house. I can see Tucker’s car out the window. I’m glad he stayed. I’m certain he will take me home. I dress quickly and find my way to the main room where several people are passed out on couches and on the floor.

“Pssst, Tucker.” I whisper, trying not to wake anyone else. “Wake up, take me home. Please.”

Groaning, he stretches his arms, rubs his eyes, and reaches in his pocket to check for the keys.

“Please, Tuck, let’s go already.”

“God, give me a minute, wouldya?”

We walk in silence to the car, a silence that accompanies us all the way to my house. I’m still just trying desperately to sort out details in my mind.

What actually happened last night? Was I dreaming? But a dream that left me so sore? I remember waking up and knowing I was not alone. I felt someone else. I heard him, smelled him. It wasn’t Tucker. I know his smell. Not to mention, he’d never do that to me. And I’m pretty sure I screamed. I screamed, right? Shit. How could I get myself into this? What if…? Oh god. This can not be happening.

As things become more clear in my mind, my eyes fill with tears and Tucker takes my hand.

“What’s wrong? Is it because I smoked that stuff last night? I won’t do it anymore. I won’t do it ever again. I promise. Okay?”

“It’s not that, Tuck.”

“Then… Why are you so upset? Where did you go last night? I thought you’d left me alone at that party.”

“Unlock the doors, let me out. I just need to go home. I’ll call you later or something, okay?” I say, grabbing my phone and getting out of the car, not the least bit concerned with whether or not it’s actually okay.

“Would you just tell me what happened, please?”

There’s a concern in his voice that I’ve never heard before, as there should be. But I can’t talk about it now. I can’t even think about it. I just want to go home.

“Something just terrible, Tucker. Terrible.”