#powder every four minutes like a fucking toddler

[leolaroot]

trying very hard to be brave and mature but yes i did in fact break my phone again and its not turning on anymore and my phone is broken and its my fault and this is the third "Break down and cry" level phone accident in the past two weeks and i think i want someone to shoot my skull and brain over and over with a gun that shoots bullets

[casspurrjoybell-24]

The Alpha's Boy - Chapter 2 - Part 1

Book Two In : The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Alistair 'Star' Claymore-Phoenix

My friends laughed as they ran into the deepest part of the woods before we could stop at the lake that was named after my... well actually I didn't know what to call Marshall Maverick.

It was a complicated, tangled family web.

Marshall Maverick was my Dad, Silas Claymore's, Dad Rodrick Claymore's mate and my uncle's father.

He was killed by my kidnapper Charles Maverick, who was also his brother, who also helped my brother, Lucca Meithke kill our pack.

'Still following along?'

My uncle Simon Claymore left just before Charles Maverick had come to the pack for, well no real reason, than to intimidate my Dads about old jewels that didn't even hold much meaning anymore and get Simon and myself.

Which obviously didn't happen or maybe it did, with Simon missing it was hard to tell where he was.

After being spotted on cameras for a couple of months after he left he had gone MIA with his assumed partner but every year around Christmas Dad always receives a postcard from a random city around the world.

It was normally blank with just a S on the bottom with a date, which I guess was a good sign.

**********

I was high but I didn't want Ivan to know because if he knew he would get mad and when Ivan was mad, it well... it would get bad?

It wasn't the worst thing in the world but he was my best friend and fighting with him hurt a lot, I didn't like the idea of him being mad at me.

'Then why do you keep fucking up, Star?' I sighed to myself but watched as Liam stripped off his pants and shirt before jumping into the lake.

Ivan stood by, a beer in his hand, as we watched our friend complain about the freezing water.

Nearby was Patrick, Patty as we called him, he was a bit older than us but he didn't seem to mind being around us.

He had his life figured out to a point, he was twenty-one, with a mate, a house and a job but on weekends he liked to come with us and hang out, have a few beers before heading home to Cecilia.

Being part wolf and getting drunk or high was a challenge if you didn't know where to go but I was thankful that Rudy knew where to get all the good stuff.

The pills or powder that had a little extra in it to hit you off, if you took two or three pills at one time you would be on cloud nine.

It was fatal to humans, one pill would take a human out for days or worse.

Ever. drinking was a little easier, someone always had a little spiker on hand to get your wasted a little quicker.

Darren had strong stuff in the basement of our house too, the strong stuff, made for wolves by wolves.

He had a stash in the wrack room, nine bottles or it started as nine.

Currently, it was nine bottles but only four of them had real alcohol in it, the rest was grape water.

I knew I needed to slow down or they would catch on soon.

I wouldn't get away with it forever and though Silas and Darren weren't overly strict, with the twins growing up and in the house now things were a little bit more, difficult.

It started when they turned two and Maddox had pulled out a baggy from my backpack.

I had left it in the wet-room for a quick minute before running off to spend the night at Ivan's house but that didn't happen when the bag of pills ended up in my little brother's hands.

He didn't get any of them but the cat was out of the bag at that point.

I'm sure they always had known but had just left me alone about it but they couldn't leave me alone about it when there were toddlers involved.

Plus I was only a kid too, I guess you could say I still am but I was an adult in the eyes of the pack.

Now that I was nineteen I was a man, a man who needed to get out on his own and find his mate, find his way in the world.

'Find his uncle Simon. Oh, Simon.'

I didn't really know the man, I hadn't spent much time with him but he is at every corner, everywhere I look his face is there.

His photo is all over our house, his name is spoken daily, inside and outside the house.

People mumble about him, rumors spread, that he was in on it, that he had a hand in killing my grandfathers, which is stupid because he was a baby when his father died and a kid when his adopted father died.

They would say that he was drugging Silas this whole time, that Simon was making Silas weak and that he was a danger to the pack.

'A shifter.'

I can't imagine how Simon felt all his time here, he must have felt like such an outsider.

'Like you do?'

[candycityy]

Ooh rivetra and 20 or 76 (or both if you want to ;)) for the Drabble prompts pleeeease 🧡🖤

Note: I did both because what can I say, I love a challenge, hehehe. I hope you like it!

References this earlier drabble.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

So here's the thing, right. For all his flaws—and he does have flaws, no matter what the fawning masses think—Levi isn't stupid.

Sure, he's not probably not cut out for the rarefied, upper-crust intelligentsia that Erwin Smith moves in. And sure, certain idiots of the variety of Hanji Zoë might swear on their dying breaths that he's all brawn and no brain, et cetera, but the truth is, he's got enough street smarts and common sense that most people conveniently overlook his awful social skills.

And that means that contrary to popular belief, Levi doesn't totally suck at social events. The Sina elite tend to misread his frosty bluntness and lack of etiquette as a refreshing, man-on-the-street brand of humour. Which, well, whatever works, he supposes.

Unfortunately, as a matter of consequence, that means that even with a hyperactive three-year old at home, Erwin had point-blank refused to let him off for this year's Midwinter Ball. He'd given him leave for the past few since Ava was still far too young to be left alone at home, but judging by the commander's expression, he's just about exhausted his excuses.

"You know the state of our finances, Levi," he'd said, cerulean eyes earnest and entreating. "We need every coin we can get. And, well, you're always quite popular at these balls, being humanity's strongest and all—not accounting for taste, of course—"

"Oi!"

The commander'd smirked, but his expression had faded back to solemnity quickly enough. "We need you there, Levi. I won't make it an order, but consider it...a personal request. Please?"

Levi'd grumbled under his breath. "Whatever. I'll go, I'll go, just stop looking at me like that," he'd barked.

Erwin had smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Levi."

Cut to the present. It's just past six o'clock, the winter sky only now beginning to darken into a somewhat forbidding shade of violet-grey. He's already dressed in his standard black suit, pacing back and forth the small living room, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

Petra, who's in the midst of removing the curlers from her hair, shoots him an irritated look. "Would you calm down," she hisses, "you're driving me crazy. And Ava's going to pick up on it too, you know."

They both glance at their daughter, who's serenely colouring in a picture in crayon at the other end of the room. The three-year-old is Petra in miniature, from her wide eyes right down to her peaches-and-cream complexion. With just one exception: her hair is just a touch darker than her mother's: more cinnamon than honey.

Levi runs a hand through his hair. "Why aren't they here yet?" he says, for the third time that night.

"Because we told them to come at half past," Petra replies, with somewhat less patience than she'd ordinarily have. "Now get over here and help me do up my necklace, would you."

The metal is cold to the touch, but Petra just smiles softly as he clasps the necklace behind her neck with deft fingers. "Remember our first Midwinter Ball?" she reminisces. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Levi says drily. "I was busy dragging Auruo off the dance floor after he puked and blacked out, remember?"

She giggles. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part. But still, that was when we danced together for the first time." They fall into a comfortable, nostalgic silence, and finally, he sighs.

"I still don't like leaving her alone," he mutters.

"It's hardly the first time," Petra says gently.

"I know, but it's the first time we'll be so far from her. And for so long, too—a whole night." His eyes turn contemplative. "Maybe I could just ride back, after the ball—if the weather isn't bad—"

"Don't even think about it," she says sharply. "The roads aren't safe this time of year, especially not so late at night, there's too much ice. We'll be back in the morning, Levi. Don't worry so much."

He snorts. "Easier said than done. Why aren't they here yet?" he asks again. This time, Petra ignores him, instead turning back to the mirror and carefully applying lipstick with a practiced hand.

After the final step—dusting her cheeks with rose-tinted powder—she rises to her feet, doing a slow turn in her gown, a sleek, champagne-coloured affair with a fitted bodice and fluted sleeves, cut out of satin and embellished with tiny buttons down the front. Her delicately curled hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone, just brushing the front of her dress.

"What do you think?" she goes. Oblivious to his sullen silence, she juts out a hip and flutters her lashes at him coquettishly, an action which earns her an eye-roll.

"You're going to make everyone stare," he grumbles. She giggles.

"I have to keep your fangirls away, now don't I?" she teases, with a toss of her head. He's about to issue a retort when a knock comes at the door.

"Right on time, as usual," Petra declares. Levi just scowls.

He'd had been reluctant to get them back after the first disastrous incident, but Petra had insisted that they'd done a good job—"after all, Ava was perfectly fine, wasn't she?" As a result, Eren and Jean have become their go-to babysitters ever since. Levi's loath to admit it, but their daughter has warmed up to them. She's already toddling over to the door with a ready beam on her face, as the boys troop in through the door, faces flushed with the cold.

"Eren nii-chan! Jean nii-chan!" she chirps, plump arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pleaaaase?"

Eren breaks into a grin and obliges. His terror of Levi has subsided somewhat, although he still occasionally trips over his feet whenever he walks past, but he openly adores the toddler. Jean's a bit more reserved, but as Ava begins to babble cheerfully, his expression noticeably softens—even though he claims he's not a fan of babies, Levi suspects that he's secretly just as enamoured with Ava as his comrade is.

Of course, that only makes sense, considering that as far as Levi is concerned, Ava Ackerman is the cutest fucking baby on the planet.

Outside the door, there's the distant sound of approaching hooves pounding against cobblestone. Sensing a farewell, Petra sighs and leans over to give Ava one last hug, as Levi presses a gentle kiss to his daughter's cheek.

"We'll better be off," she says reluctantly. "Boys, thank you so much for taking care of Ava tonight. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do."

All four adults exchange grim, silent glances; they know what's coming next. Levi picks up his coat and shrugs it on. Petra wraps a scarf around her neck.

And with a sigh, they push the door open, and wait.

Three, two—

"Nooooo!"

Ava lets out a ear-splitting shriek, one that seems far too loud to come from such a small baby. Her eyes well up with anxious tears as she comes to the awful realisation that her parents are leaving without her, and she struggles desperately towards them, her face screwed-up and flushed with fury, as Eren doggedly tries to keep her from wriggling out of his arms. Beside him, Jean attempts in vain to ply her with sweets and toys, but she won't be soothed or distracted.

"No, no, no!" Ava wails. Her tiny fists pummel Eren's shoulder, who, to his credit, doesn't flinch, just hefts her up resignedly. "No go, no go! Stay!"

Petra sends him a warning look. And even as every atom of his body rebels against the thought of it...

Levi steps over the threshold, and into the wintry night air.

==

"Levi," Petra says patiently, "you're fidgeting."

She places a hand on his thigh, which, apparently, he'd been subconsciously jiggling all this while. Calming Ava down had taken about ten whole minutes, but Eren and Jean had finally managed to distract her with a game of hide-and-seek—her new favourite—and they'd quietly snuck onto the carriage before she could realise their trick.

They're barely more than a mile from home, but already being away from Ava feels like a piercing, physical pain in the front of his skull, a palpable anxiety that refuses to fade. Even Petra's presence, usually so comforting, doesn't soothe him in the slightest.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It's just—it's fucking terrifying, being a parent." His wife touches his cheek in silent commiseration, and they both sit in silence.

It's as perfect a night as it could ever be, in all honesty. The moon is full and bright, its silvery light beaming helpfully onto their path. The road is almost deserted this evening—Levi supposes most people would rather be safely tucked in the warmth of their homes, celebrating the holiday season with their own families instead of with dozens of expensively-attired strangers.

Fuck it all. Sensing his blood pressure rising, he takes a deep breath. The air is cool and dry and calming. Turning to stare out at the window, he listens to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the horses' hooves, their huffed pants of exertion, the metallic whine of the wheels—

Levi frowns. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Petra starts to ask, and then stills—this time, she'd heard it too. That high-pitched, bell-like sound, that sounds disturbingly like...

She swallows. "D-did you just make that noise?"

He stares at her drily. "I don't think my vocal chords could physically manage that."

"You don't think..." Her jaw drops, and she almost leaps towards the driver's seat in her urgency, startling the poor old man. "Excuse me! Stop the carriage, please!"

The horses have barely come to a halt when Levi disembarks from the carriage in one swift, fluid movement. He strides towards the back of the carriage, where, he knows, there's a small compartment built in, just large enough for their overnight bags and gear.

As well as—perhaps—a three-year-old toddler, if she were crouching quite close to the floor. Like, for instance, in a game of hide-and-seek.

His expression is grim as he tugs open the lid of the compartment. Behind him, Petra looks frozen, her face a mixture of trepidation and incredulity and just the tiniest hint of amusement.

The lid comes loose. "Daddy!" their irrepressible daughter exclaims, springing out of her crouching position. She giggles again, that familiar high-pitched, bell-like sound almost unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. "Mama! Ava came along!"

For a second, both parents are struck speechless as they stare at their cheerful stowaway in wordless horror.

Finally, Petra opens her mouth to speak.

"You don't say," she deadpans.

==

By the time they reach Sina, the ball has already started.

Of course, considering how they had to turn back around (much to the chagrin of the carriage-driver), tuck Ava very firmly into bed (it goes easier this time, considering how exhausted she is from the very dramatic game of hide-and-seek), reassure a terrified Eren and Jean that they're not mad (although Levi still isn't sure, to be honest), and allow them to resume sentry duty before leaving, he figures they actually made pretty good time.

Other than the very pointed, self-righteous look the doorman shoots them as they stumble into the hall, they manage to blend into the crowd with relative ease. They quickly touch base with the rest of the squad and collect two well-deserved flutes of wine before searching for Erwin, if only to reassure him that they did, in fact, come.

The commander is, of course, easy enough to spot, what with his stature and all. And although he initially looks mildly disapproving, his expression quickly turns wry once he hears the tale.

"That's quite a story," he says, nodding politely at a passing noblewoman, who blushes alluringly and bats her eyes. "Although, I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all, considering."

Petra giggles. "Touché. Although, maybe next year, we can bring her along. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Over my dead body," Levi says flatly. "But maybe next year, you'll let me stay home, Erwin."

The blonde man sighs and casts his eyes skyward. Around them, the party thrums cheerfully, soldiers mingling with nobles, careful words and casual touches exchanged over good dance and better drink. But although the atmosphere is thick with holiday cheer and inebriation, the commander seems wearily immune. "Maybe next year, I'll finally resign."

Levi snorts and lifts his wine-glass. "I'll toast to that."

Drabble challenge!

[jlalafics]

Hello, you're an amazing writer! I truly enjoyed all of your stories! Recently I really liked the Two Kids universe. I don't know if you planned to write more of it but if you did i'd be really happy to read it :) Maybe after the birth of toastbabiy number 2 and the Hayhanna baby too ( i have a soft spot for this ship), when the kids are still babies or toddlers ( or even children)... Thank you for all the great stories you make! (sorry for my english, it's not my first langage ;)

First off, thank you so much for the compliment! I’m flattered and I’m so glad that you enjoyed Two Kids and the follow-up.

Since I’m kind of loving this universe at the moment, I thought I’d finish it off with a little follow-up.

I hope you enjoy! Happy Reading!

Summary: In which Katniss and Peeta become the mentors. A follow-up to “Two Kids” and this story.

“Diaper.”

Peeta reaches over to the basket holding the diapers before tossing one at me. I catch it easily before looking down at Abner or Abie—our four-month-old—and give him a bright smile. Abie wriggles on his changing table, but I easily slip the diaper under his used one, wipe him, then switch out the soiled diaper for a clean one.

Wrapping the dirty diaper, I toss it to Peeta who catches it with ease before throwing it into the wastebasket.

“Daddy!”

Jack, our three year old, is awake.

“His plate is already on the table. Remember—”

“Toast cut into squares, no crust, and jelly on every corner,” Peeta finishes for me.

He grabs the cloth wrap on the nursery’s dresser and helps me wrap it on my center as I finish dressing Abie. I crisscross the ends as I put Abie into position before placing him into the pocket of the wrap. Peeta tightens the wrap to create support under our son’s legs before tying the ends at my waist.

I give Peeta a grateful smile and lean to give him a kiss—

“Daddy!”

“I owe you,” he says before rushing out the door.

“As soon as we get downstairs, I’ll feed you,” I tell Abie. “Which boob do you want today? Left, or right?”

“Right is my particular favorite.” Peeta walks into the room with Jack in his arms. “Jack wanted to say good morning to Abie.”

Jack, sweet boy he is, presses a kiss to the top of his little brother’s head. “Abie…”

I take in this moment of calmness; this is what Peeta and I fought for and what others died for.

These small pockets of life where it is just perfect.

Then, a shrill cry from across the way breaks through the peace of our household.

Peeta and I look to one another.

Lulu is awake.

++++++

We step into the Abernathy home, walking over a pile of clothes at the front door as we follow the crying. There’s an overwhelming smell of powder in the air and, as we move forward, one of Haymitch’s geese dashes pass us.

I walk into the sitting room and find Johanna rocking Lulu in her arms, hair askew…and topless. Peeta covers Jack’s eyes before turning away.

I approach her carefully. “Johanna?”

She looks up at us, stare full of exhaustion. “Lulu’s not eating! I keep trying, but she just won’t latch.” Her mouth begins to tremble. “What if she hates the taste of my milk?”

I join her on the couch. “I’m sure that your milk is just fine. Where is Haymitch?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes remain on the wailing baby. “Probably snuck out in the middle of the night. I don’t blame him.”

Haymitch suddenly stumbles in and for a moment, I think he’s drunk.

He’s not. He’s just exhausted.

“Spilled baby powder last night, Lulu almost fell off the table…so many diapers…had to clean up the nursery…”

Sitting on the couch, Haymitch sits back, practically falling asleep against me.

Standing up, I go to Peeta. “They need help.”

Named after Johanna’s mother, Louisa—or Lulu as she is affectionately known—is just shy of two months old. She was born on a winter evening sporting Haymitch’s thick dark locks and Johanna’s penetrating eyes—a perfect combination.

Haymitch and Johanna insisted on not needing anyone to help them, both so use to taking care of themselves. However, they’ve both failed to realize that they are no longer solo, they are now a couple—at least, I think they are—and parents.

“But they said that they didn’t need our help,” Peeta responds.

“Yeah, that flew out the window when we both got a good look at Johanna’s breasts,” I tell him, and he colors. “Don’t act like you didn’t see them. I’m not mad—they’re hard not to look at.”

Peeta looks to me. “I do prefer your breasts.”

“I know you do, but we’re going off topic.” I turn to the two on the couch; Johanna is currently letting Lulu suck on her finger like a pacifier, looking dazed. Haymitch has slid down to the floor, his head on couch seat. “They have to learn to be a team.”

“When did you become Effie?” Peeta jokes.

“Someone has to be,” I reply resolutely. “You handle Haymitch. I’ll take Johanna.”

“Deal,” Peeta responds. He puts Jack down and smiles at our son. “Why don’t we help Haymitch and Johanna clean up? Then make them lunch?”

Jack pumps his fist excitedly. “Yeah!”

“First mission—let’s find a broom.”

Peeta takes Jack’s hand and they head to the back of the house in search of cleaning supplies.

After making sure Abie is okay, he is resting contentedly against my chest, I go to Johanna.

“Johanna…” She turns to me. “What happened to your shirt?”

“Milk soaked through and there are no clean clothes,” she explains. “Lulu hates my boobs; she keeps turning her head.” Her eyes fill and it twists my inside seeing her in despair. “I’m a bad mother.”

“You’re a new mother,” I tell her gently. “Why don’t we go upstairs and find you a shirt? Lulu seems to be calming down.”

“That’s a trick.” Johanna stands, wobbling slightly. “She pretends to be quiet, but as soon as my defenses are down and I’m about to sleep—she pounces!” Her eyes go to the girl staring up at her with Haymitch’s greys. “She really is my kid.”

++++++

The nursery is a wreck, despite Haymitch’s claim of cleaning up; Johanna explains that Lulu has gotten wriggly during diaper changes. In an attempt to diaper her without her falling off the table, Haymitch somehow spilled powder everywhere. Haymitch’s large footprints in the powder are tracked all over the floor.

“Peeta can teach him how to diaper her quickly,” I assure her.

Going to Johanna, who is sitting in the rocking chair, I take Lulu into my arms and cradle her next to Abie, who is snoozing contentedly in his sac. She seems to ease in my son’s calmness, settling in my arms.

I show Johanna how to slip a clean diaper under Lulu’s dirty one before cleaning her up and closing the diaper. I easily pull the dirty diaper out from under the baby then close it before throwing it in their wastebasket.

It takes less than a minute.

“I never get it done that fast,” Johanna says miserably. “I’m always afraid that it’s too tight or too loose. I don’t know why I can’t seem to get this right.”

“You’re going to make mistakes.” I place Lulu back in her arms. “But you learn from them. In the end, Lulu will only feel the love that you have for her.”

“I hope so, because I’m feel like I’m fucking up.” Her words come out in a tight whisper. “Sometimes, I think that this was all a big mistake.” She looks to me. “Is that wrong to say?”

“No.” I give her a smile. “We all have days like that.” Lulu begins to fuss, and I can see her lips pursing. “She’s hungry.” I grab a nearby pillow and place it on Johanna’s lap. “Use this to support Lulu so you can work on positioning her.”

Johanna nods, placing Lulu lengthwise on the cushion. She moves the semi-clean shirt off and adjusts Lulu’s head, close to her breast.

“Use your other hand and guide your nipple near her lips,” I instruct.

Johanna follows what I say, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Lulu quickly takes hold and begins to suckle.

“She’s eating,” Johanna exhales in happiness, relaxing into her seat. “Thank goodness.” She closes her eyes. “I was wrong. I do need help.”

“It took awhile to learn that I wasn’t alone,” I tell her. “In time, you’ll see that it becomes less scary to let people inside.”

Johanna opens her eyes, full of unshed tears. “Thank you.”

“I know you’re hormonal and will probably deny that you even said that later on.” I smile watching her caressing Lulu’s hair tenderly. “But I appreciate it.”

While Johanna continues feeding, I clean up what I can and then restock diapers and wipes in their appropriate places. Then, at my insistence, I tell Johanna to take a shower after I take Lulu.

“I’ll sit here,” I assure her. “Go while she’s in her food coma.”

When she is gone, I look at Lulu in her bassinet and smile seeing the best of both Haymitch and Johanna.

This one is going to be a warrior.

“You’re a lucky girl, Lulu.”

++++++

“So, you have the stew for tonight,” Peeta tells me. “Tomorrow, I can come by and show you how to make a roast and I’ll bring rolls. Also, I can make lactation cookies for Johanna. Just remember to keep her hydrated.”

I feel my head spinning at Peeta’s words. After showing me how to quickly diaper my child, the boy—man—wrote out a menu for the week and a list of groceries I am to get. Johanna and I cannot live on canned food alone, especially when he tells me how a good diet will help in Lulu’s feedings.

It is not easy for me when it comes to changes; I lived on schedules for awhile because they helped me from not thinking about the past. Before Katniss and Peeta, I lived on alcohol and drowning my pain in drunken slumbers.

However, that was when it was just me.

Now, there are three of us—and I can’t help but feel like I’m fucking it all up.

Johanna looks tired. Still beautiful, but tired, nonetheless. I feel helpless when I see her struggle with our Lulu, but I am also just as clueless.

However, for them, I will do what it takes—even if it means cooking lessons with the boy with the bread.

“I got it,” I assure him. Peeta nods, going back to checking on the stew. “I think I’m messing up.”

Peeta turns to me. “You’re not. You two are just finding your rhythm. We’re all survivalists. Maybe not me; I always seem to need Katniss in one way or another. I do know that it does take awhile to become a team—to stop being a you and becoming an us.”

Jack rushes back into the room, sitting on my lap and gives me a bright smile. “Goosey’s fed.”

“Thank you for helping, Jack,” I say and kiss the top of his head. “You’re going to have to help me out. I’m still learning to be a good dad.”

“You were always a good dad, Haymitch,” Peeta tells me. “After all, you practically raised me and Katniss.”

I manage to chuckle. “I’m not sure if it that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

I’ll never admit that they are a good thing. They happened when I needed them the most.

However, Johanna and Lulu—they are the best things in my life.

++++++

“I may not always love you

But long as there are stars above you

You never need to doubt it

I'll make you so sure about it

God only knows what I'd be without you…”

 Lulu stares up at me with those large doe eyes and something squeezes in my chest. Before Abie and Lulu, I always kind of scoffed seeing the way Katniss’ eyes lit up whenever she was around Jack.

But now, seeing Lulu looking at me, trying to smile as I sing causes something to stir inside.

It’s this hopeless devotion to her—and I gladly allow myself to love her. Love her enough for the family that was never able to meet her, both on my side and Haymitch’s.

“I didn’t know you were a singer.”

I find Haymitch leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and grinning at us.

“I’m not, but it seems to calm her down,” I tell him.

“Lunch is ready,” he informs me. “You need to eat.”

“I know, but I’m not ready to leave her just yet.”

Haymitch joins us, looking down at this little ham of a girl. “Wow. We made her.”

I chuckle. “Pretty cool of us.”

“We have to be better for her,” he says suddenly. “Better than we were for ourselves.”

“Yes. I agree.” Lulu’s eyes begin to flutter. “There are no Hunger Games and I’m not in the Capitol whoring my way through Snow’s elite. Sometimes I forget—or just become afraid that it will happen again.”

Haymitch puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” he assures me. “All of Victors, the ones that are alive, will never let anything like that happen. If it did, I would protect you and Lulu.”

“We will protect each other.”

Haymitch’s eyes warm at my words and in one breath, he kisses me gently.

“I almost forgot what that felt like,” I say as we pull apart.

He smirks. “You should be kissed more often.”

“That’s how Lulu happened.”

“True.” He rests back against the wall behind us. “We’re going to get through all this. One day, she’s going to be running circles around us and we’re going to miss her just like this.”

“Hopefully, I get my body back by then,” I snort. “I feel like I’m nothing but tits and milk.”

Haymitch eyes my chest. “Not like I don’t appreciate a full pair, but you just look uncomfortable.”

“Nobody informed me about the wonders of a breast pump. Katniss is having her mother send one here. Maybe then I won’t feel like my primary function is milk machine and I can actually get some rest.”

For a moment, we sit in content silence. Never in my life did I think I would be a mother. However, Lulu is here, real and a fresh as can be, smelling like hope and freedom. She is all things that are good about me, the parts of me that I never even thought I had.

And, she’s all mine.

My hand fits into Haymitch’s and he gives me a gentle smile.

He is mine.

“You know what the most annoying part about all of this?” Haymitch says suddenly and I raise a brow in question. “We’re getting advice from Katniss and Peeta.”

“Yeah, that’s really irritating,” I retort. “The worst part is that most of their advice is valid.”

Haymitch snorts. “Maybe for them. We’ll come up with our own ways.”

I yawn, resting back against him. “In time.”

Soon, we sleep.

++++++

Peeta turns to me, Abie is his arms.

“I don’t think we need to check on them.”

Jack rushes up to Haymitch’s door, knocking loudly. “Hay-me! Jo!”

“It’s too late now.” I join our son on the porch. “Jack has already created all kind of ruckus.”

However, I am surprised when no one comes to the door. Twisting the knob, the door opens easily; not surprising as we’ve never bothered to lock our doors.

“Hello?” I call out.

The sitting room is still in pristine condition from earlier. Peeta sets off into the kitchen to look in.

“No one is there,” he tells me.

Jack rushes up the stairs in search of Haymitch and Johanna and I scramble up behind him; he’s only started to master stairs. He toddles to the nursery, peeking in, before running the opposite way to Haymitch’s room.

“Mama, yook!” He points into the open doorway of Haymitch’s room.

“Please don’t be naked…” I whisper, crossing my fingers, before joining him and taking a breath before looking in.

Johanna and Haymitch are fast asleep, in-between them is a snoozing Lulu, arms up over her head.

I struggle to hide my laugh as Haymitch is sleeping the exact same way.

Picking Jack up, I put my index finger to my lips.

“It’s nap time for them so we have to be very quiet.”

Jack nods in agreement, wrapping his arms around my neck.

We go down the stairs, finding Peeta and Abie waiting for us.

I give them both a smile. “They’re asleep.”

Together, we head out the front door and head down the steps toward our home.

Peeta lets out a sigh of relief. “Maybe now we can get a decent night’s sleep.”

Then, Abie lets out a wail.

 FIN.

Lulu’s actual name, Louisa, means “renowned warrior” while Abner (Abie) means “father of light”. Their names feel appropriate for having Victor parents.

Song:

“God Only Knows”—The Beach Boys

[jawnjendes]

i’m tired too | shawn mendes

university au summer vacay babey, shawn x goth gf

*******just letting yall know that the chapter before this, girl you’re trouble did not appear in the tags when i posted it, so if u havent read it go ahead and do that now :P

masterlist | series playlist

My tongue was between my teeth as I focused on my reflection in my little compact mirror. Carefully, I filled in my eyebrow with dark brown powder, ignoring the people sitting on either side of me on the couch. Having two sets of eyes on me made it hard to carve out the enhanced version of my face, though. I tried to shift in my seat to get them to focus on literally anything else, but neither of them let up.

“She’s so good at that,” Mom said in admiration. She was sitting on my left.

“Isn’t she?” Shawn agreed in the same tone. He was on my right.

I paused and sighed. The previous evening, Aaliyah pointed out that my mom and her brother had some uncanny similarities. I thought she was just bringing light to the fact that they both… adore me. But they had the same mannerisms, like talking with their hands. They were both optimistic as well, unlike me… and my dad. I pretended not to see any similarities until now. I was just glad Aaliyah wasn’t here now to triumph in her discovery.

“Are you guys gonna do this the whole time?” I asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” Shawn said, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek.

I leaned away from his touch. “I just did my foundation!”

My mom laughed. “She won’t let you touch her either! I’m glad it’s not just me!”

Shawn gave me a surprised look. He learned just a little too much about me in the last twenty four hours, and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Luckily, my dad, who had been scrolling through his phone on the other side of the couch, piped up. “Shawn, I heard you play guitar?”

That started the music conversation. I was glad to have the attention off of me for once, all anyone asked me about these days was my stupid hospital stay. Plus, I could finish my makeup in peace. Not to mention, Shawn was still convulsing and crying in his sleep, so things were… not ideal at the moment. But he got to talk about his love of music, which was something my dad could relate to.

“You know, I used to be in a rock band,” he said. “Back in eighty-seven, me and my buddies played shows from my parents’ garage. That’s how I met Lucy. She was standing at the front of the audience for every show. We only had about ten people attend if we were lucky, but she was always there.”

Mom placed her hands over her chest fondly. “I think music has a beautiful way of bringing people together.”

You wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at my mother, but she lived for heavy metal. She was the one who introduced me to the symphonic metal bands I listen to now.

“Oh, a hundred percent,” Shawn agreed. Then he told me parents that he and I met at one of his shows at a coffee shop.

Today was much more calm than the last. My parents slept on it, and they decided that they were just happy that I was live. I was just glad they stayed at a hotel, too. I couldn’t imagine being holed up with them after not living with them for a majority of two years. I also wouldn’t know how to explain why my boyfriend was yelling in his sleep every hour.

I really did miss my mom and dad. It kicked in when they had to go home at the end of the week. I was supposed to be home too. None of this was supposed to happen this way.

~

After my parents were gone, I was able to get around the apartment by myself. I didn’t need a babysitter anymore, so I tried to be happy about that. However, my incisions still kept me from doing anything strenuous, which meant I had no excuse not to return to work anymore. Most of what I did was sit behind a desk in a tiny office, so I made my first day back that Friday. I figured I might as well make some type of income to, you know, pay for my books for the next semester and uhhhhhh fucking live. I had to find my independence again somehow.

Anyway, my first day back at work was as mundane as it always was. It was like I wasn’t even gone for three weeks. Stacy gave me a professional “welcome back” and then hit me with the work I missed that I needed to catch up on. I spent the morning adding up gas receipts, entering vehicle information into the computer, and booking service appointments over the phone.

In the afternoon, Jason and Luca came in for their shifts. They approached the window of the office and stopped in their tracks.

“You’re here?” Jason asked in disbelief. “Weren’t you quitting?”

Clearly, no one knew or cared where I had been lately. I mean, I must have told Stacy to keep it confidential while I was high on morphine. Even then, I wasn’t exactly popular here.

“I had surgery, and now I can’t hop on a plane home,” I explained shortly.

“Oh, so you were dying and you weren’t planning on telling us?” Luca said, holding a hand up to my face in a dramatic fashion. “How dare you.”

I blinked once and then got back to adding numbers from the stack of receipts. The two of them entered the office, and that was when another question popped into my mind.

“Who covered me while I was gone?”

“Not me!” Jason said as he went to his desk at the back of the office.

Luca stood by mine and puckered his lips like he was thinking to himself. That said it all for me.

“Shoulda known.” I rolled my eyes. “Not a goddamn thing was done, and it’s month-end.”

“Hey, Stacy told me to book appointments,” Luca said defensively. “I lost commission these last few weeks because of that. I sell cars. I’m no receptionist.”

Bet he didn’t even book appointments either. Bet Stacy told him to cover all of my responsibilities. Luca just did not give a flying fuck about anything.

I spent my lunch hour in the car. Normally, Shawn would have come to meet me so we could eat together… or not eat. He was working too, though, and from the texts he sent me, he had been working on a flower arrangement for a wedding. He was going to be busy all day. When did we become a boring, married couple?

“You’ll never believe who they put to cover me while I was out,” I typed out in a text to Shawn. I munched on my white rice as I sent it.

“Who?!” he replied within a few minutes. I could almost hear the enthusiasm.

“Fucking Luca. He did fuck all, so I have a bunch to catch up on. Plus, it’s the end of the month, so we all have to close a bunch of sales and warranties and all this other boring crap. I’ll be home a little late.” Send. More white rice. God, I’m tired of rice.

My phone buzzed again while I was scrolling on Instagram. Shawn had replied. “Aw. Ok hon. I’m gonna have a couple of friends over tonight, just letting you know. Some of them want to see how you’re doing.”

“Ok. I’ll see you at home.”

“Love that you see my place as a home now :)”

Uhhhhhhhhh… Who’s gonna tell him? Who has to remind him that I was staying at his place for convenience, because I am recovering from a surgery? That I literally almost died and my complications kept me from travelling long distance…? Who’s gonna tell him?

~

I was horrifically fatigued when I got home. I seemed to have forgotten that stressing over numbers and annoying phone calls was mentally straining. Maybe travelling by car wasn’t a great idea either, but how could I not drive? I had a job to go to. I had an apartment to get back to. As I walked up to the front door, I wished that I didn’t have to worry about things like income and bills to pay. I just wanted to lie down and not get up again.

Walking into the apartment, I realized I probably wouldn’t even get to do that.

First of all, the door was unlocked. Shawn had given me a key, but apparently I didn’t need it this time. I was met with music and laughter as stepped over the threshold. I found people, strangers, when I peered into the kitchen.

It was a small kitchen, but there were five frat boy looking guys all holding plastic red cups. Among them were three breathtakingly pretty brunettes. I’m talking Instagram models, wearing sparkling crop tops and skin tight leggings. They were all laughing about something until they saw me at the doorway.

“Rock on, emo queen,” one of the frat boys said, holding up the rock and roll sign.

Yeah. Even in my work uniform, which was a button up with the company name on, was in fact black. Not to mention, the eyeliner I had put on in the morning smudged so much throughout the day that I now looking like a raccoon having a mental breakdown.

Awkwardly, I continued padding down the hall, finding more people standing and talking amongst themselves. Again, more ridiculously pretty girls and their dates. All I could smell was weed. I tried to keep a stink eye off my face, but it was the only thing that made people move out of the way so I could get to the living room.

Finally, there were people I recognized. Brian, Connor, Teddy, and Shawn were among a bigger group of strangers sat on the L-shaped couch. So this was a couple of friends?

Shawn noticed me first and raised his arms in the air, making me notice the red cup in his hand. “Look who’s here!”

That caused several pairs of eyes to turn to me, causing me to feign a smile. Everyone raised their drinks and cheered. Oh god, I was in a room of drunk toddlers. I was in a whole ass apartment of drunk toddlers. And my fucking boyfriend was the toddler hosting the other toddlers.

“Come, sit here,” Shawn said, waving me over. “I missed you!”

I still felt awkward and tired and far from the vibe everyone else was currently on. I stepped over and went to take the empty space next to Shawn, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. My face went hot at the gesture, but not because of the affection, or the fact that he chose to rest his hands on top of my thighs. His chin rested on my shoulder, and I could smell the alcohol in his breath. Oh jeez.

“Man, let your girl breathe!” Brian joked, seeing the discomfort on my face.

“It’s fine,” I said sheepishly. I noticed several empty plastic cups and shot glasses on the coffee table. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

“Yeah,” Shawn agreed, “I mean, I’d sit on her lap, but my poor baby had surgery. Wouldn’t wanna hurt her.”

Before I could retort, Teddy spoke up. She, too, had her own cup and was very obviously under the influence. “Oh yeah! How did that go? What even happened?”

I was going to reluctantly explain, but Shawn spoke for me again.

“My little fighter looked death in the face and said ‘fuck you!’”

Several gasps and fascinated expressions came from the group on the couch. I resisted the urge to plant my face in my hands. There goes my business, out in the open for everyone to put their noses into.

“You almost died?” Connor asked in shock.

“Ooh, story time!” Teddy announced. “Spill! Now!”

Been home for ten minutes, and I was not in my pajamas lying under the covers. For me, this was a couple of steps away from a worst case scenario. All eyes on me, expected to talk about things I wanted to keep quiet about. And it was all prompted by my drunk boyfriend, of all people.

“I had a bowel resection, and then I hemorrhaged,” I explained curtly. Then, I moved Shawn’s hands off my thighs and got to my feet. “And now I have to stay here and recover for the whole summer. The end.”

Some people booed at the length of my story. I’m sure I was expected to tell an awesome tale about the battle against my infected guts, but I was really not in the mood for that. I had to tell the story twice at work, and that was enough for me.  I didn’t really care about being a massive party pooper at the moment.

“Baby, where you going?” asked Shawn as I stepped away from the group.

I sighed and turned back to him. “I’m gonna change out of my uniform, and then I’m going to sleep.”

He pouted and got up to approach me. He came up close, so things felt a little more private. “Come have fun with me. We never have fun anymore.”

The plea in his voice was a jab straight to the heart. But I couldn’t find it in me to change my mind and stay with him.

“I’m not really in a party mood,” I said apologetically. “I had a long day, I’m really tired.”

Shawn’s face fell even more. His hazy, tipsy eyes filled with concern. “You want me to kick everyone out? I’ll do it! I’ll do it right now!”

I quickly got ahold of his wrist before he could rally the troops. I already had enough guilt on my shoulders. “No! No, no, no, don’t do that.” I held his hand in both of mine, and I ran my fingers over the swallow tattoo. “Have fun with your friends. You’re right, things haven’t been fun lately, and I’m sorry for that. You deserve a good time, even if I’m not there. Just have a drink for me, okay?”

He could have put out some things about how the party would be better if I was there. He could have sweet talked me into sitting on his lap again for the whole night. Instead, he squeezed my hand and said, “Straight tequila, right?”

Relief washed over me. “Yes. Remember to drink water too.”

“I gotchu, honey.”  Then, he leaned in a pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “Keep the bed warm for me.”

The taste of alcohol on his lips made me one percent more likely to join him in the festivities. The other ninety nine percent yeeted my ass to the bedroom. Once I was alone, the crushing feeling of deliberate isolation sent me to the surface of the bed.

I was the type of tired that kept me from actually sleeping. I could sleep through plenty of external noise, living in a college dorm was enough experience. It was just my foggy brain and burning throat getting in the way. I grabbed my Switch from the nightstand and played Smash Bros, tuning out the sounds of people having a better time than me.

Every so often, I heard people cheering or chanting, “chug, chug, chug!” I remained curled up in bed, fighting people online to get my frustrations out. Taylor Swift’s Love Story came on around 1AM and everyone screamed the lyrics, while I brought my t-shirt to the bridge of my nose to catch oncoming tears. I felt guilty and selfish every moment I wished Shawn was here to spoon me til I fell asleep. He spent so much time worrying about me, he deserved to forget it all once in a while. God knows I wanted to do the same, but my insides were still recovering.

I had put my Switch away and I was lying on my side by the time people were saying their goodbyes out in the apartment. Some guy was praising Shawn for having such “epic parties” as they put it. Weird, this was the first party of his that I witnessed. We’ve been together just over six months. How much of himself was he holding back because of me?

“Whoo!” I heard Shawn yell, followed by a glass shattering loudly.

The sound woke me up a little. Meaning, my legs got me standing and dashing out to the living room. My eyes scanned the place, which was now vacant of people and full of trash, but I found Shawn sitting on the floor just outside the hallway.

The place was a mess. Half empty cups, food, and mysterious stains covered every surface in the apartment. I was only worried about my boyfriend.

“Hey, cutie,” I said affectionately, bending down so we were at eye level.

Shawn’s eyes were hooded, but sparkling. He gave me a toothy grin and held up a peace sign.

Then, Teddy emerged from the kitchen. “Oh, did I wake you? I dropped a cup, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t exactly sleeping,” I told her, still looking at Shawn. I waved my hand in front of his face, only for him to blink slowly. “Uh, how much has he had to drink?”

Teddy chewed her lip as she thought about it. “I lost count after his fourth shot.”

“My girlfriend told me to have ten tequilas,” Shawn slurred, belching right after. “I think I had like, six.”

I held my breath and waved off the stench. Someone was in for a long night, longer than normal. I didn’t think he would take me seriously, but then again, I did not tell him to have ten shots of straight tequila.

“Oh yeah, he mixed his liquor too,” Teddy said.

I sighed and moved Shawn’s long arm over my shoulders. “Okay, vamos mi chulo. Let’s get you to bed.”

Teddy stepped in to help get the six foot toddler to his feet. Shawn stumbled and swayed, his long arms hanging heavily on our shoulders. I baby talked him as we slowly strolled to the bedroom, and I told Teddy I could take it from there.

Shawn burped again as we got closer to the bed, and he groaned. “Ugh… this isn’t fun anymore.”

“Okay, let’s go to the bathroom,” I said, steering him the other way.

It took a minute to get him positioned in front of the toilet. It took less than a second for him to lean over the bowl and return everything he drank. As much as the sights and sounds of vomiting brought me dark and lonely flashbacks, I went and sat on the edge of the bathtub. I rubbed Shawn’s back and practically waited for it to end.

Once that was overwith, I really couldn’t go back to sleep. I managed to lay Shawn down on the mattress. The sparkle in his eyes was gone, now replaced with chilling emptiness. I took the liberty of pulling his leather boots off his feet, and I removed his socks as well. Then, I draped the comforter over his long body.

“Stay with me,” Shawn mumbled, his arm reaching out to me. “Let’s forget all the bad shit…”

It seems that no amount of alcohol could make him not think about the last couple of weeks. My heart began to ache all over again.

“Go to sleep, okay?” I said gently. “I’ll be with you when you go to sleep.”

Shawn whined. “You always die in my sleep. I love you too much to let you go.”

I had a feeling that that’s what he had been dreaming about. But I really could not get myself to lie down with him. I was too antsy from the vomiting.

“Wait for me, okay?” I told him, stroking his hair. “I’m only gonna be a few minutes, and I’ll come back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He’s drunk. He’s going to sleep no matter what.

Once Shawn was all tucked into bed, I left the room and quietly shut the door behind me. In the living room, Teddy was picking up plastic cups and shoving them into a giant trash bag. I really wasn’t expecting her to still be here. Wordlessly, I began helping her clean up. Anything to get my beating heart to slow down.

“What were you doing this whole time if you weren’t sleeping?” she asked me. “Was the music too loud?”

“No. It wasn’t anything from the party,” I replied, scooping up paper plates and used napkins. “Just had a long day. I wasn’t in the mood for a party.”

“Oh.”

She glanced at me a couple of times as she dumped more trash into the bag. This was supposed to be the part where I bare my soul to my boyfriend’s friend and make her my friend, but… Enough of my business was out there already.

Teddy, however, was persistent. “So, how come you didn’t want visitors at the hospital? Or when you got out, for that matter?”

I busied myself with fixing the sofa cushions so I could come up with a decent answer. “Uh, I like my privacy. Especially in moments where things are messy.”

“Hm. Well, aren’t messy moments the times when you need friends the most?”

That thought lingered in the air as we continued tidying up the living room. I could have had my video game club friends there, or Shawn’s friends, but instead I left most of the burden to Shawn himself. What kind of a person am I?

At last, Teddy got the last of the garbage in the bag, and she tied it shut. Then, we moved onto the kitchen. More cups, spilled booze, and the broken glass from earlier. Oh, how I did not miss house parties. I was at the prime age of partying, being 21. I should have been the type to be as drunk as my boyfriend was, to just have fun and forget the stresses of life. But I found myself on a completely different level than the people who were here tonight.

“Do you stay up late often?” Teddy asked, trying to fill the silence yet again.

We both paused as the sounds of loud, monotonous humming came from the bedroom. Teddy scrunched her brow and tilted her head. My shoulders tensed with chills, like ice cold water had been spilled down the back of my shirt.

“To answer your question,” I told her, “yes.”

She followed me to the room, but she stayed at the doorway while I went to Shawn’s quivering body.

“Baby, wake up,” I said urgently, shaking his arm. “Wake up, it’s only a dream, baby…”

He was on his back, head moving from side to side in harsh moments. He groaned, completely spastic, so I coaxed him some more.

My voice shook. “Shawn… please. I’m here, please-”

His eyes flew open with a loud gasp. He sat up, breathing hard and fast. I placed my hands on his broad shoulders, getting his attention.

“Hey, look at me. You’re okay, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Brown eyes were wide with panic, and then sadness. Within a second, they were filling with tears, and Shawn was wrapping his arms around my waist. With a shaky sob, he buried his head in my neck and cried quietly.

I had a pained looked on my face while he wasn’t looking. I just held him and stroked his hair. I was whispering the things I always said when he was in this state. “You’re safe with me. It was just a dream, it’s not real.”

I was able to coax him back to sleep for the time being. It was only going to happen again, though. I didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

When I stepped out of the room again, I leaned against the wall by the doorway. Teddy was gone, probably fled the uncomfortable situation. Can’t say I blame her. I sighed heavily and brought the palms of my hands to my misty eyes. I was beyond exhausted now. I was at a loss.

A hand went on my shoulder all of a sudden, making me jump. I looked up, finding that Teddy was still here, glass of water in her hand. Her blue eyes were concerned and upset, like the world had just ended in front of her. I pushed past the feelings, though.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were still here,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Uh, did you need a ride home?”

She shook her head and held up the glass. “My fiance is coming soon. Here, drink.”

I offered a weak smile and accepted the gesture. As I sipped, Teddy said something that threw me off.

“He told me he was handling his nightmares. Had it all taken care of.”

“Why would he say that?” I asked in return.

“Didn’t want anyone to worry, I’m guessing. But I can see how tired he is. I can see how shaken up he is. I mean, he never goes as hard as he did tonight with the liquor. And worst of all, he hasn’t written a song in weeks. He hasn’t been in the studio at all.”

And it was my own damn fault.

“Does he tell you what he dreams about?” I dared to ask.

“No,” Teddy said. “I don’t think he tells anybody. I think he needs something beyond our help.”

“You’re right. I need to talk to him about this, because I know he’s not gonna talk to me.”

She placed her both her hands on my shoulders. “Hey. I’ve seen Shawn with quite a few girls over the last couple of years. I’ve never seen him head over heels until you came along. He loves you so much, he can’t fathom the idea of losing you. He loves you so much that he won’t talk to you about this because he doesn’t want you to feel bad.”

I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make me feel better, because I was barely coherent as I spoke. “I already do…”

~

For once, I was up and running before Shawn was. His last nightmare happened around six in the morning, and after that he slept normally. The hangover probably had something to do with that. I left him a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand, and then I went to the kitchen to attempt a type of breakfast.

By the time had eggs scrambled on a plate, Shawn was stumbling out of the room, glass of water in hand. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and then he ran his fingers through his curly hair. He was still in the navy blue t-shirt he wore last night, but he ditched his jeans and went for the underwear look.

I met him halfway from the kitchen, presenting him with his mediocre breakfast. “Morning, sunshine.”

“For me?” he asked, and I nodded. “You’re the best.”

He sat at the round glass dining table as opposed to going to the living room. He must have been really hungover. I sat next to him and basked in the silence as he ate. My hands were tingling from the nerves.

“How ya feelin’?” I asked in a stupidly gently voice, reaching over to rub his arm.

He hummed through a mouthful of eggs. When he swallowed, he spoke. “My head is pounding. But I took the pills you left for me. Thank you for that, by the way. Who cleaned the apartment?”

“Me and Teddy. After you knocked out, we just decided to tidy up so no one had to worry about it the next day.”

“Well, thank you. One less thing to worry about.” He ate in silence some more, and then spoke some words that truly had me puzzled. “I slept the whole night for once. Feels good.”

Must be nice to not remember your night terrors. However, I had to tell him.

“Shawn…” I said slowly. “You woke up like five times. You had a panic attack one of those times.”

He slowed his chewing, staring at the table top in thought. He stayed quiet, and it freaked me out. He practically shut down, and it scared me for multiple reasons.

“I don’t know how to help you,” I admitted, watching him carefully.

“It’ll wear off,” he said weakly.

“You don’t know that.” I had to be firm. “I don’t know what you’re seeing in your sleep, but I know it scares you so much that you won’t talk about it. And you talk about everything, so that’s how I know it’s bad.”

Shawn looked down, still silent. Not giving me a possible solution to this. Does he even want help? Or am I just exaggerating and losing my mind?

“You don’t have to talk to me about it,” I continued. “Just talk to somebody. Last night, Teddy told me that you were taking care of all of this, but you’re not. I don’t know how you’re functioning during the day, because I’ve been exhausted and sleep deprived. I know you are too, and I’m not the only one who sees it. I, I don’t know how much longer I can watch you go through this.”

Again, he was quiet. He was never quiet. Shawn was feisty and passionate, ready to say anything to prove his point at any given moment. He had strayed from the Shawn Mendes I loved in such a short amount of time. It was happening so fast, watching him slip through my fingers. It felt like I was the one in a nightmare.

“Please,” I mumbled, my voice quavering. My bottom lip began to quiver.

Shawn suddenly looked up at me, eyes wide at the sounds coming out of me. Even when he was sinking, he still paid more attention when I was about to cry.

“I’ll, I’ll give you my therapist’s number,” I offered, losing my composure. “I-I don’t know if she’s taking anymore clients, but I-I-I’ll give up my sessions for you. I’ll do anything if it means you’ll get some help. Shawn, I… I’m begging you. I’m begging you to get help, because I don’t know what to do anymore… a-and it’s because of me why you’re like this, a-a-and I’m sorry-”

I gasped when I realized Shawn had placed his hands on either side of my face. His thumbs rubbed my tear stricken cheeks, and he spoke calmly and gently.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll get help. I promise. I don’t wanna go through this anymore either. I promise I’ll figure this out.”

I guess that’s how I knew I was falling in love. The want and need for him to be okay was so great, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make that happen. The fact that he was not okay was ripping me a new one. I couldn’t even breathe when he slept. I couldn’t even think about how much I wanted to be in California, because then I’d have to think about leaving Shawn all alone. Who would talk him down from his night terrors?

My hospital stay alone triggered nightmares and eerie silence from him. But what would Shawn have done if I had died altogether?

[ladydisdain81]

prompt: Write how someone finally snapped while working in retail and how they became the world’s greatest villain.

(I wish I could find the original post from @writing-prompt-s)

It only took 10 seconds for her to start beating her nails against the glass counter.

She had handed me 20 items to ring up.

Oh goody.

I heard a high pitched shriek from behind her.  

Her freakishly blonde child was pulling folded shirts off the tables and dropping them on the floor.  

It had taken me an hour to get those table organized.

Every muscle in my body tensed. The center of my chest burned with the desire to scream at the idiot toddler.

I didn't.  I needed this job.

I scanned everything as fast as I could.

She held off from sighing loudly for a full minute.  I wanted to clap my hands and congratulate her.

Her dumb toddler completed the destruction of one table and moved on to the next.

She didn't even turn her head.  She just stared at me.

I kept my lips slightly turned up.

Just scan her shit Kelly, and get her out of here.

“Are you a member of our rewards progr-”

“I don't care about your stupid program!” she snapped.

The burning center grew.

Look lady, I am required to ask every person who buys something in the god-forsaken store about the rewards program.  You could just say 'no thank you' instead of snapping at me.  Who the hell raised you? I thought.

“Okay,” I said.

I finally finished scanning her crap.  I told her the total.

“That's not right.  The pants are on sale you idiot.”

I clenched my fist in order to not punch this bitch in the face.  I stretched my lips as far as I could.

“I did apply the sale discount to all the applicable items.... ma'am.”

“Then you double charged me!” she shrieked.

I did not need this.  I needed this job.  But I didn't need this.

“Let me go get my manager.”

I walked away from the counter before she could say anything else and before the urge to shank her with a plastic hanger became too strong.

I heard her son giggle.  I did not turn around.  I didn't want to see.

I walked into the break room where Tanya was sitting while on her phone.

“Where's Mike?” I asked.

“He's not here,” she said without looking up.

“Then who's the manager today?”

“Deena.”

Oh Christ.  

See, if you had a problem with a customer Mike would sort them out and send them on their way.  He knew that sometimes people were deranged psychopaths.

But Demon-Bitch Lord was from Corporate.  She actually, genuinely, honestly believed the customer was always right.

I took a deep breath, walked over the manager office and knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

Deena didn't talk to us mere plebs.  She barked at us.

I poked my head into the office.

“Hi Deena.  The customer at the front needs help.  She doesn't agree was the total.”

“What did you do wrong?”

I didn't do anything wrong!  I scanned the bar code and hit enter. It's not like I can fuck it up.

“I scanned everything and applied all the discounts.  She still disagrees.”

As if on cue, “Where is the damn manager?!” drifted back to us.

Demon-Bitch Lord sighed, stood and walked out the customer.  I heard her chipperly ask “Hello miss, how can help you?”

I sat down in the break room alone.  Tanya had bounced at some point.

I tried to unclench my muscles.  I felt like I was collection of springs twisted way too tight.  The customer's voice drifted back to me.  I couldn't understand what she was saying but the sound grated on my nerves.

Four hours.  I only had to be here for 4 more hours.  I could totally handle it.

God, I wanted to scream.

Paper bags rustled.

“Ok miss, you have a nice day now,” Deena said.

I forced myself to stand and walk back to the register.

I froze in the doorway.  The kid had pulled EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. of the shirts off of the table and left them on the floor.  It looked like a tornado had hit the store.  

I turned to Deena. She was smiling sweetly at me.

I thought about slamming her head into the register.  Repeatedly.  

“You're welcome,” she said as walked past me.

I went to stand at counter.  I needed a moment to assess the damage.  It was almost hard to breathe.

What the fuck was wrong with people?!

I looked down at the register.  The women's purchase was still showing. Five of the items had been zero'd out.  Meaning she hadn't been charged for them.  But my name was still showing as logged in.  It looked like I had given away almost 100 bucks worth of stuff.

I turned to Deena who was standing the doorway.

“You didn't log me out,” I said.

“You made me fix your problem.”

“But... it will look like I just gave that stuff away,” I said.  

My voice was tightening.  My words were short and clipped.  My fists trembled at my sides.  (My bestie said when I got really pissed I almost sounded British).

If someone reported me then the cost would come out of my paycheck... if I didn't get fired.

If? You mean when.  She's going to write that email the second she sits down at her computer.

“But-”

“Look Kelly, I am not in the habit of fixing my employees mistakes.  Next time don't double charge.”

“I didn't-”

“Just clean up your mess,” she barked.

Your employees?!  My mistakes?! MY MESS?!

“By the way, your request to have Monday off is denied.  You are covering Lucy's shift all day.”

“I put in the request 2 weeks ago and I have 2 finals that day-”

She turned and shut the door to the breakroom.

I stood there in shock.

That... BITCH!!!

The burning in the center of my chest expanded.  It reached out.  It snapped.  It broke.

No.

It broke free.

Everything around me became like fire.  It wasn't on fire but it moved like it was.  The colors whipped back and forth.  

I took a step back and my hand landed on the counter.

 A black powder like substance made a hand print for a second and then spread.  It reminded me of spilled printer toner.  Once the entire counter was covered it began to float away like ash from a bonfire caught in a gentle wind.

It was almost... beautiful.

I fucking hated that counter I had to stand at for hours at a time.

Maybe the rest of the store will go too.

The moment I had the thought the powder spread out from me and covered the entire inside of the store.

The ashes gently lifted into the air.  Then they became nothing.

The shelves were gone.  The walls were gone.  I could see the studs and wiring. Better not mess with that.  Didn't want to cause a fire.

I wouldn't have minded a fire truthfully.  But this was a mall. There was other people here.

Someone screamed.

I turned.  

The floating ash had attracted a few people.  They were standing in the entrance way.  The woman who had screamed had her hand over her mouth.  A couple kids were pointing their phones at me.

Oh no, we can't have that, I thought.

Their phones were nothing in moments.  Now they screamed.  All of them ran.

OK, that had been mean but that was not how I was going to end up on YouTube.

“Kelly!  What is-”

Deena walked out and froze.  Her eyes went very round in fear, her mouth dropped open and she let out a small squeak.

I don't know what I looked like but I hoped it was terrifying.

I walked towards her.  Slowly.  

Now she screamed.  She tried to back away but instead she tripped and fell on her ass.  She waved her hands in front of her as if it would protect her.  Tears were running down her cheeks.

Good.

“Now you listen to me, you stuck up bitch,” I hissed.

My voice had a different tone to it.  Slightly deeper, more raspy.  My words were still short and clipped.

Maybe I would go full British.  Wasn't that what super-villains did?

Deena shrank away from.  She was whimpering.  I felt nothing for her.

“I am not your servant or your scapegoat.  If you ever try that shit again with me, I will incinerate you where you stand.”

Deena curled up into a ball as she cried.  

I caught a look at myself in the mirror of the breakroom.  

There was an... aura all around me.  It was like I was made of flame.  My hair whipped around my head.  My clothes shook and vibrated.  But my eyes...

My eyes had gone completely white.  They glowed like arcs.  

Ok.  That's awesome.

I heard more screams from outside what was left of the store.

I needed to leave.  

How do I turn this off?

The next instant everything was normal again. Well...

My thing? power?  ability? stopped.  The store was still trashed.

I stepped over Deena and got my purse from one of the tiny lockers they let us use.  I saw the side door to the alley/dumpster was open.  

I went out the door.  I glanced up and down the alley.  No one was there.  I turned to my left and headed for the parking lot.

I knew I should scared.  Or worried.  I had just disintegrated my job.  I had threatened my boss.  People saw me.  It wasn't like I could pretend it hadn't happened.  I should be freaking out.

I should not feel relieved.  Be damned if that hadn't the most cathartic thing I had ever felt.

There was a man leaning against my car.  He wore a simple black 3 piece suit with a white shirt and he was wearing shades.  He looked at me as I walked closer.

Normally a situation like this would have scared me.  But today? Now?

Nope.

Whatever I had unleashed in the store I could still feel it.  It was still there. Swimming under the surface.  Waiting.  

Waiting to be used.  Waiting to be let out.

“Excuse me.  That's my car,” I said.

He straightened and took off his sunglasses.  He was the most nondescript human being I had ever seen.  Dark eyes and hair, yeah. He had features. Nothing about him stood out.  He was just... there.

“That was quite a display you put on in there, Kelly.”

How did he know my name?  

“Yet for someone just discovering their abilities you should an incredible amount of control.”

“Whatever Agent Smith.  I'm going home.”

He moved out out of the way.  I opened the driver's side door.

“They are going to know it was you within the hour.”

I stopped.

I could hear sirens in the distance.  They were growing louder.

I turned to the man.

“Do you want something from me?” I asked.

“I am part of an agency that employs people like you.  I'd like you to introduce you to my boss.”

Several police cruisers screeched into the mall parking lot.  They stopped in front of the entrance.  At least 5 officers jumped out of the cars with their weapons drawn as they rushed inside.  

And still there were more sirens in the distance.

I heard myself ask “Does your boss pay well?”

The man gave a small smile.  “Kelly, I promise you, money will the last of your concerns. Ever.”

Black laughter bubbled up and spilled out of me.

“I am so in,” I said.

[yournintendogsaredead]

Weirdest day ever

I don't even know how to describe today. Like, I'm convinced it's all a big fever dream. So, I get to the preschool I teach at. I'm super excited because we're starting our Polynesian theme which I've worked really hard on. I get there at 8, my first class is at 9. So I start decorating, and I wait for the smart board to boot up. It starts freaking out. Like really freaking out. So I ask the assistant director to help me with it because she's better with technology. About 5 minutes into us both fiddling around with it, she gets the idea that maybe it's the projector. So she takes a look at it and says, "um, does that look like a flame to you?" Sure enough, the projector is on fire. The night crew left it on all weekend and it overheated. So we get my mom, who also happens to be the director, and she empties a whole fire extinguisher into it because it just will not go out. Boom. Fire alarm. Directors go on the walkie to tell all the teachers, "this is real get the kids out". So the art teacher and I take off down the hallway toward the infant rooms and each go into a different room. Me and the two other teachers in that room start running the babies into the cribs. We have evacuation cribs with wheels, so we've got four kids in each crib. One teacher grabs the sheet we use to track our kids while the other teacher and I start running the cribs out along with the other two infant rooms. The toddler, preschool, and k-prep kids meet us in the parking lot. Now, the babies are obviously screaming, so each of us has a baby in our arms that we're trying to comfort while entertaining the babies that weren't crying yet and explaining what was going on to the other teachers. Here's the issue. St. Louis is hot as fuck. It hit 108 Saturday. Today was better, but still hot. We're in a parking lot. My school is on the campus of a university, so we form a sort of parade led by the cribs and get the kids into a business building with ac. Now, my school is wonderful. All of the teachers got our kids out in under two minutes. Everyone was helping other classes. We had preschool teachers going to get infant bottles and toddler teachers giving preschool teachers diapers and wipes. Since it was hot af and we had just been hauling bigass cribs a pretty fair distance, I went and got the teachers some waters graciously provided by the business center we were in. So the directors send out a message that the center is closed and kids need to be picked up. This is a slow process. The teachers are all incredible. We had people telling stories, playing games, doing fire safety lessons, and more with the kids. I pretty much kept with my infant room, but I stopped to talk to a few teachers and kids in other rooms. It is at this point that I start noticing a lot of irritation in my chest. The assistant director says her throat feels bad, so we decide it's the chemicals from the extinguisher fumes we inhaled. I'm allergic to everything, and the worst reactions are in my chest, so I take some allergy meds and chalk it up to physical exertion (I had to go back to get all the car seats since we couldn't let families in the building) and adrenaline. Finally, around 11 the last kid gets picked up. We clean up, thank the people that let us crash their building, and head back. At this point there are really only the three of us that were there when the fire broke out. I'm noticing that it's getting very difficult to breathe. My chest is tight, I keep coughing, and I'm getting dizzy. So we go to urgent care. Yay workman's comp. They promptly send us to the ER, where I am seen very quickly. I basically live in emergency rooms, and I've never gotten in that quick. I guess the key is telling them you can't breathe. So mom and I go back, I get some x-rays, and then I get to my room. A guy asks me to come do insurance stuff. Bear in mind, I still can't breathe. The nurse is standing there with my breathing treatment tank asking if I can go do it, and he says I have to do this first. Dude, I'm about to pass out. So my mom steps in and makes a few rude comments, but they work and I get to go put a mask on my face and breathe oxygen mixed with drugs. At this point I realize I must be pretty important, because I have two doctors and five nurses. No, I'm not exaggerating. Though one was really hot. But I digress. So then every single one of them needs to take turns listening to my breathing. They call poison control about the chemical I inhaled, and they said it irritates the throat and mouth but does not enter the lungs. Yay! But Odd, because again, can't breathe. So they determine that I'm having anaphylaxis. Wonderful. That explains why the other people who were exposed had other symptoms, but could still breathe normally. While there was slight irritation in my throat, my stupid body that is allergic to everything freaked out, and my bronchial tubes and other things in my chest that I wasn't paying attention to the names of got inflamed and stated to close. So then comes a flurry of activity. Several treatments and unsuccessful needle pricks later, I'm loaded up with an iv full of drugs and steroids. That shit is magical. So after a bit of music trivia with mom to kill time (we're great at it), a single doctor comes in and I tell her I'm breathing easier. She says she thought so because they couldn't hear me coughing down the hall anymore. She listens to my chest, and says, "there we go! Somebody is breathing again!" So then I get discharged, say goodbye to hot nurse man who stabbed me, and thank the literal team who helped me out. Bringing fluids, offering me blankets, telling jokes, asking about the school, etc. Plus, you know, making sure my chest didn't close up. That was helpful. Go get lunch with mom because at this point we're starving, and go pick up my prescriptions which will suppress my immune system in case there's any more powder at work that the cleaning crew missed, and a rescue inhaler that I take every four hours for a few days and then any time my chest spontaneously decides it doesn't feel like breathing after that. Got home, took a nap, started figuring out ways that I can do my lessons from another room in school without a board. Jesus. So that was my day. Started with a fire evacuation of a preschool and ended with an emergency room visit for anaphylaxis. Happy Monday!

[pitz182]

How I Supported My Heroin Addiction by Selling Meat

It was the blistering hot summer of ‘75 in Los Angeles. I was over-dressed as I headed to the supermarket in a brown corduroy jacket, jeans, and a faux leather purse that bounced off my bony hip.I pushed my cart through the automatic doors, my eyes darting back and forth behind my $10 aviator shades. I was on the lookout for the store manager. I knew that he was in his early 40’s, with a crew cut and a paunch belly that hung over his belt.Relieved that he was helping a customer on the far end of the store, I rolled straight for the cereal aisle, but I wasn’t there for the Cocoa Pebbles or Frosted Flakes. I just used the boxes for cover. I was there for meat. And not just any meat would do. I wanted only the most tender, most expensive cuts, with the USDA stamp of approval on them.I was 21 and strung out on heroin for the first time. I had been shooting up in moderation for years until my boyfriend Max and I crossed some sort of invisible line. I can still remember the first morning I ran to the toilet throwing up until there was nothing but slimy yellow bile.That was a game changer for me. I was now addicted and had to find a way to support my habit. But how? I couldn’t sell my body like some of the junkie girls did. The thought of sleeping with a greasy old man made my skin crawl. Instead I asked Sammy, another junkie, to teach me his trade. Boosting: what the police would refer to as petty theft.At my first day of on-the-job training with Sammy, we pretended to be a married couple grocery shopping. But in reality I was watching him steal with laser-like focus. By the end of the day it was apparent I had a natural talent for stealing meat. After we stole the meat we’d sell it half price and get our dope money. It didn’t take long before I had customers all over town who wanted to buy my meat. I soon had a reputation with other junkies for being the best cattle rustler west of the 405.I sped down the cereal aisle and grabbed three boxes of Corn Flakes. I then headed to the butcher section. My gaze landed lovingly on the bulging pink meat packaged in tight saran-wrap that lined the open freezer. I took a deep breath before loading my cart up with filet mignon, New York and T-bone steaks. In less than a minute I had what I considered to be a pretty good haul. I covered the packages with my Corn Flakes boxes and did a 180 with my cart.I headed down the back of the supermarket until I found an empty aisle. There, I stopped midway and loosened my belt. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it beating inside my brain. I bent over, grabbed a steak, and shoved it down the back of my pants. It was cold. Goose bumps erupted all over my sun-starved flesh. I moved fast, stuffing one steak after another around my waist.Suddenly, a fresh-faced mother with a toddler tucked in her cart headed toward me. I dropped the steak back into my cart and reached for a can of Campbell’s soup, pretending to read the ingredients. The click-clacking of the other cart’s wheels drew closer.Whenever I boosted, my super powers kicked in. My mind could easily shift between thinking, observing, and analyzing my surroundings for any threats. This hyper-vigilant state was the direct result of growing up with a schizophrenic mother who was loving one minute and ballistic the next. When I was 7, my mother drowned herself in the bathtub but by then the neural pathways in my brain had already been set. This vigilance, which had once been a handicap, became a gift whenever I boosted.The cart was behind me now and the mother’s voice sounded soothing as she spoke to her child: “You can have a cookie after dinner sweetie.”Hearing their tender interaction turned my stomach into a tight fist. I felt the familiar pang of resentment. I often imagined how things might have been different if my family hadn’t been so fucked up. What if I’d had a loving mother who was there for me through all the benchmarks in my life? Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be standing in a market with a steak stuck in my pants and blood dripping down the back of my legs.I watched them disappear around the corner before stuffing more meat around my emaciated waistline. By the time I was done I resembled a suicide bomber ready to blow the place up. With meat.Once the last two steaks were securely tucked away I abandoned the cart and moved stealth-like towards the front of the store. My goal was to slip out without any employees noticing me. But with blood seeping down my legs I was afraid I’d draw unneeded attention to myself. All my favorite jeans were ruined.My breath grew shallow as I turned sideways through a closed cash register aisle. I was several feet from freedom when the paunch belly store manager yelled from his station, “Excuse me miss. Hold it right there!”I quickly assessed the situation. The manager was walking toward me. I could see my car parked close to the front of the store. I asked myself if I should run or wait to see what the manager wanted. It turned out to be a no-brainer. My foot instinctively hit the rubber mat causing the automatic doors to spring open. I ran as fast as I could, my arms and knees pumping, my tennis shoes slapping the hot asphalt ground beneath me. A steak slipped out of my pants. I hoped this minor obstacle would slow the manager down. But no.Having watched plenty of nature shows as a kid, I could imagine how this scene might have resembled a cougar chasing his prey. Unfortunately, in this action adventure I was the prey and I was afraid a claw would reach out and grab the back of my coat any second. And then what? I’d be arrested. I’d heard plenty of horror stories from junkies kicking heroin in jail. I was determined not to let that be my fate.I don’t know if I imagined it but I felt the manager’s hot breath at the base of my neck. I leaped inside my Volkswagen Bug and punched down the lock. The manager grabbed the door handle at the exact same time. With his face inches away, I could see his nostrils flaring, his eyes wild with rage.“Open this fucking door!” he yelled.My hands shook as I fished inside my jacket pocket for the keys. The car rocked as he pulled on the door, the peace sign hanging from the rear-view mirror swaying back and forth. I slipped the key into the ignition and the engine sputtered and popped. I made a mental note: If you don’t want to go jail, get a frigging tune up ASAP.I hit the clutch and threw the gears in reverse. As I backed up the manager pounded the driver’s window with his fist and yelled “Get the hell out of the car!”After clearing the parking spot, I shifted into first gear just as this wannabe hero stepped onto the running board. He grabbed the mirror with one hand and the door handle with the other. All I could think was: What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with this crazy idiot?I pushed the pedal to the floor, picked up speed, and shifted into second gear thinking surely he would jump off. But he appeared to hold on even tighter. I yanked the steering wheel and made a hard right. He finally lost his grip. I watched him in my rear-view mirror tumble away like a loose hubcap.Oh God! Had I killed him?Relief coursed through me when he hopped up, yelling and waving his fist as I pulled onto Venice Boulevard. My chest heaved as I peeled the steaks from my waist and tossed them onto the passenger side floor. My mind raced with paranoid thoughts: someone must have gotten my license plate number, the entire police force would be out looking for me. I had to get the hell out of there.My eyes darted to the rear-view mirror and I twisted my head from side to side like the Exorcist on the lookout for any patrol cars. I had to get rid of the evidence and fortunately, I had plenty of people around town who would buy it.Fifteen minutes later I pulled up in front of a house in the suburbs. I hopped out of the car, walked up the path and rang the front door bell as casually as an Avon lady. Moments later, Mrs. Wilson appeared, dressed in polyester pants, head crowned with pink sponge curlers under a paisley scarf. She squinted over my shoulder. “Oh, hi there, Wendy.”I nodded toward my car. “I have something for you, Mrs. Wilson.”After we did a quick exchange, I had 100 bucks and she had double that in meat.Ten minutes later, I was a rat-a-tat-tatting on the drug dealer’s door. Eddie opened it just a crack and glared at me with bloodshot eyes. With a taut nod of my head I handed over all my cash. In return, I got four colored balloons the size of marbles. I followed standard junkie protocol and tossed them inside my mouth. This was done as a precaution in case you got busted. Hopefully you’d have enough time to swallow the evidence before the cops could get their hands around your throat. Thankfully, I made it home that day in one piece.Max was still at work so I had the place to myself. Our apartment was six blocks from the beach. A tourist destination for some, but the ocean wasn’t even on my radar back then. Beauty and nature ceased to exist when I was doing drugs.The living room was a strange landscape of overflowing ashtrays, beer bottles, and trash from the night before. Others could accuse me of slacking on my domestic duties but who had time for dishes or dusting when you were supporting two people’s habits every day?After retrieving the tied red bandana in my panty drawer, I headed for the bathroom and straddled the toilet to face the wall. I laid everything out on top of the tank. Syringe, matches, a cup of water, spoon and cotton. Biting the tiny knot of the balloon I ripped it open with my teeth. I was careful not to spill any as I poured the contents into the spoon. I used the syringe to squirt water and then lit an entire book of matches, holding the flame underneath the spoon until it started to simmer. As the powder dissolved, the smell of Sulphur, burnt sugar and dope filled the air.I pulled the brownish liquid into the syringe, spun around and wrapped my left bicep with a belt. There was a bit of resistance before the needle popped through my calloused vein and then my blood mushroomed like a bomb going off inside the syringe. I pushed down on the plunger with my thumb and I was instantly filled with a soothing warmth as the heroin turned me inside out.Afterward, I dabbed the blood with toilet paper while my chin drifted down to my chest.All the anguish, self-hatred and regret faded into blackness. Heroin was an anti-depressant and the only thing I found to ease the constant sadness that clutched my throat.My life was never meant to look like that. I went to a private Catholic school, for Christ’s sake. I knew the difference between right and wrong. When I was a little kid I didn’t see myself growing up to be a junkie. What happened to the little girl who desperately wanted to make a difference in the world? Sadly, she was in a dark place where she would remain for nearly two decades before reappearing tattered and broken in the county jail.It was there, while lying in a cell, I realized I had been blaming others for everything that was wrong with my life. It was my mother’s fault, my father’s fault, and then, in a moment of clarity, I realized I was the one who had broken my own heart. And if that were indeed the case, only I could fix it. But how?I knew I’d have to be sober to find out.In the last 25 years I’ve learned that my mother’s absence left a huge black hole inside my heart. Everything I knew, planned, or imagined for myself changed in an instant. But I was a 7-year-old child and no one seemed to notice my despair. My sadness eventually morphed into anger and I took my anger out on the world. If I were to stay sober, I needed to forgive my mother. It didn’t happen overnight but over time. When I was finally able to let her off the hook, I was the one who was set free.I underwent a deep and profound transformation, but some things never change. Every once in a while I find myself craving a steak: medium rare.

[alexdmorgan30]

How I Supported My Heroin Addiction by Selling Meat

It was the blistering hot summer of ‘75 in Los Angeles. I was over-dressed as I headed to the supermarket in a brown corduroy jacket, jeans, and a faux leather purse that bounced off my bony hip.I pushed my cart through the automatic doors, my eyes darting back and forth behind my $10 aviator shades. I was on the lookout for the store manager. I knew that he was in his early 40’s, with a crew cut and a paunch belly that hung over his belt.Relieved that he was helping a customer on the far end of the store, I rolled straight for the cereal aisle, but I wasn’t there for the Cocoa Pebbles or Frosted Flakes. I just used the boxes for cover. I was there for meat. And not just any meat would do. I wanted only the most tender, most expensive cuts, with the USDA stamp of approval on them.I was 21 and strung out on heroin for the first time. I had been shooting up in moderation for years until my boyfriend Max and I crossed some sort of invisible line. I can still remember the first morning I ran to the toilet throwing up until there was nothing but slimy yellow bile.That was a game changer for me. I was now addicted and had to find a way to support my habit. But how? I couldn’t sell my body like some of the junkie girls did. The thought of sleeping with a greasy old man made my skin crawl. Instead I asked Sammy, another junkie, to teach me his trade. Boosting: what the police would refer to as petty theft.At my first day of on-the-job training with Sammy, we pretended to be a married couple grocery shopping. But in reality I was watching him steal with laser-like focus. By the end of the day it was apparent I had a natural talent for stealing meat. After we stole the meat we’d sell it half price and get our dope money. It didn’t take long before I had customers all over town who wanted to buy my meat. I soon had a reputation with other junkies for being the best cattle rustler west of the 405.I sped down the cereal aisle and grabbed three boxes of Corn Flakes. I then headed to the butcher section. My gaze landed lovingly on the bulging pink meat packaged in tight saran-wrap that lined the open freezer. I took a deep breath before loading my cart up with filet mignon, New York and T-bone steaks. In less than a minute I had what I considered to be a pretty good haul. I covered the packages with my Corn Flakes boxes and did a 180 with my cart.I headed down the back of the supermarket until I found an empty aisle. There, I stopped midway and loosened my belt. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it beating inside my brain. I bent over, grabbed a steak, and shoved it down the back of my pants. It was cold. Goose bumps erupted all over my sun-starved flesh. I moved fast, stuffing one steak after another around my waist.Suddenly, a fresh-faced mother with a toddler tucked in her cart headed toward me. I dropped the steak back into my cart and reached for a can of Campbell’s soup, pretending to read the ingredients. The click-clacking of the other cart’s wheels drew closer.Whenever I boosted, my super powers kicked in. My mind could easily shift between thinking, observing, and analyzing my surroundings for any threats. This hyper-vigilant state was the direct result of growing up with a schizophrenic mother who was loving one minute and ballistic the next. When I was 7, my mother drowned herself in the bathtub but by then the neural pathways in my brain had already been set. This vigilance, which had once been a handicap, became a gift whenever I boosted.The cart was behind me now and the mother’s voice sounded soothing as she spoke to her child: “You can have a cookie after dinner sweetie.”Hearing their tender interaction turned my stomach into a tight fist. I felt the familiar pang of resentment. I often imagined how things might have been different if my family hadn’t been so fucked up. What if I’d had a loving mother who was there for me through all the benchmarks in my life? Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be standing in a market with a steak stuck in my pants and blood dripping down the back of my legs.I watched them disappear around the corner before stuffing more meat around my emaciated waistline. By the time I was done I resembled a suicide bomber ready to blow the place up. With meat.Once the last two steaks were securely tucked away I abandoned the cart and moved stealth-like towards the front of the store. My goal was to slip out without any employees noticing me. But with blood seeping down my legs I was afraid I’d draw unneeded attention to myself. All my favorite jeans were ruined.My breath grew shallow as I turned sideways through a closed cash register aisle. I was several feet from freedom when the paunch belly store manager yelled from his station, “Excuse me miss. Hold it right there!”I quickly assessed the situation. The manager was walking toward me. I could see my car parked close to the front of the store. I asked myself if I should run or wait to see what the manager wanted. It turned out to be a no-brainer. My foot instinctively hit the rubber mat causing the automatic doors to spring open. I ran as fast as I could, my arms and knees pumping, my tennis shoes slapping the hot asphalt ground beneath me. A steak slipped out of my pants. I hoped this minor obstacle would slow the manager down. But no.Having watched plenty of nature shows as a kid, I could imagine how this scene might have resembled a cougar chasing his prey. Unfortunately, in this action adventure I was the prey and I was afraid a claw would reach out and grab the back of my coat any second. And then what? I’d be arrested. I’d heard plenty of horror stories from junkies kicking heroin in jail. I was determined not to let that be my fate.I don’t know if I imagined it but I felt the manager’s hot breath at the base of my neck. I leaped inside my Volkswagen Bug and punched down the lock. The manager grabbed the door handle at the exact same time. With his face inches away, I could see his nostrils flaring, his eyes wild with rage.“Open this fucking door!” he yelled.My hands shook as I fished inside my jacket pocket for the keys. The car rocked as he pulled on the door, the peace sign hanging from the rear-view mirror swaying back and forth. I slipped the key into the ignition and the engine sputtered and popped. I made a mental note: If you don’t want to go jail, get a frigging tune up ASAP.I hit the clutch and threw the gears in reverse. As I backed up the manager pounded the driver’s window with his fist and yelled “Get the hell out of the car!”After clearing the parking spot, I shifted into first gear just as this wannabe hero stepped onto the running board. He grabbed the mirror with one hand and the door handle with the other. All I could think was: What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with this crazy idiot?I pushed the pedal to the floor, picked up speed, and shifted into second gear thinking surely he would jump off. But he appeared to hold on even tighter. I yanked the steering wheel and made a hard right. He finally lost his grip. I watched him in my rear-view mirror tumble away like a loose hubcap.Oh God! Had I killed him?Relief coursed through me when he hopped up, yelling and waving his fist as I pulled onto Venice Boulevard. My chest heaved as I peeled the steaks from my waist and tossed them onto the passenger side floor. My mind raced with paranoid thoughts: someone must have gotten my license plate number, the entire police force would be out looking for me. I had to get the hell out of there.My eyes darted to the rear-view mirror and I twisted my head from side to side like the Exorcist on the lookout for any patrol cars. I had to get rid of the evidence and fortunately, I had plenty of people around town who would buy it.Fifteen minutes later I pulled up in front of a house in the suburbs. I hopped out of the car, walked up the path and rang the front door bell as casually as an Avon lady. Moments later, Mrs. Wilson appeared, dressed in polyester pants, head crowned with pink sponge curlers under a paisley scarf. She squinted over my shoulder. “Oh, hi there, Wendy.”I nodded toward my car. “I have something for you, Mrs. Wilson.”After we did a quick exchange, I had 100 bucks and she had double that in meat.Ten minutes later, I was a rat-a-tat-tatting on the drug dealer’s door. Eddie opened it just a crack and glared at me with bloodshot eyes. With a taut nod of my head I handed over all my cash. In return, I got four colored balloons the size of marbles. I followed standard junkie protocol and tossed them inside my mouth. This was done as a precaution in case you got busted. Hopefully you’d have enough time to swallow the evidence before the cops could get their hands around your throat. Thankfully, I made it home that day in one piece.Max was still at work so I had the place to myself. Our apartment was six blocks from the beach. A tourist destination for some, but the ocean wasn’t even on my radar back then. Beauty and nature ceased to exist when I was doing drugs.The living room was a strange landscape of overflowing ashtrays, beer bottles, and trash from the night before. Others could accuse me of slacking on my domestic duties but who had time for dishes or dusting when you were supporting two people’s habits every day?After retrieving the tied red bandana in my panty drawer, I headed for the bathroom and straddled the toilet to face the wall. I laid everything out on top of the tank. Syringe, matches, a cup of water, spoon and cotton. Biting the tiny knot of the balloon I ripped it open with my teeth. I was careful not to spill any as I poured the contents into the spoon. I used the syringe to squirt water and then lit an entire book of matches, holding the flame underneath the spoon until it started to simmer. As the powder dissolved, the smell of Sulphur, burnt sugar and dope filled the air.I pulled the brownish liquid into the syringe, spun around and wrapped my left bicep with a belt. There was a bit of resistance before the needle popped through my calloused vein and then my blood mushroomed like a bomb going off inside the syringe. I pushed down on the plunger with my thumb and I was instantly filled with a soothing warmth as the heroin turned me inside out.Afterward, I dabbed the blood with toilet paper while my chin drifted down to my chest.All the anguish, self-hatred and regret faded into blackness. Heroin was an anti-depressant and the only thing I found to ease the constant sadness that clutched my throat.My life was never meant to look like that. I went to a private Catholic school, for Christ’s sake. I knew the difference between right and wrong. When I was a little kid I didn’t see myself growing up to be a junkie. What happened to the little girl who desperately wanted to make a difference in the world? Sadly, she was in a dark place where she would remain for nearly two decades before reappearing tattered and broken in the county jail.It was there, while lying in a cell, I realized I had been blaming others for everything that was wrong with my life. It was my mother’s fault, my father’s fault, and then, in a moment of clarity, I realized I was the one who had broken my own heart. And if that were indeed the case, only I could fix it. But how?I knew I’d have to be sober to find out.In the last 25 years I’ve learned that my mother’s absence left a huge black hole inside my heart. Everything I knew, planned, or imagined for myself changed in an instant. But I was a 7-year-old child and no one seemed to notice my despair. My sadness eventually morphed into anger and I took my anger out on the world. If I were to stay sober, I needed to forgive my mother. It didn’t happen overnight but over time. When I was finally able to let her off the hook, I was the one who was set free.I underwent a deep and profound transformation, but some things never change. Every once in a while I find myself craving a steak: medium rare.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 http://bit.ly/2T1T1a7

[emlydunstan]

How I Supported My Heroin Addiction by Selling Meat

It was the blistering hot summer of ‘75 in Los Angeles. I was over-dressed as I headed to the supermarket in a brown corduroy jacket, jeans, and a faux leather purse that bounced off my bony hip.I pushed my cart through the automatic doors, my eyes darting back and forth behind my $10 aviator shades. I was on the lookout for the store manager. I knew that he was in his early 40’s, with a crew cut and a paunch belly that hung over his belt.Relieved that he was helping a customer on the far end of the store, I rolled straight for the cereal aisle, but I wasn’t there for the Cocoa Pebbles or Frosted Flakes. I just used the boxes for cover. I was there for meat. And not just any meat would do. I wanted only the most tender, most expensive cuts, with the USDA stamp of approval on them.I was 21 and strung out on heroin for the first time. I had been shooting up in moderation for years until my boyfriend Max and I crossed some sort of invisible line. I can still remember the first morning I ran to the toilet throwing up until there was nothing but slimy yellow bile.That was a game changer for me. I was now addicted and had to find a way to support my habit. But how? I couldn’t sell my body like some of the junkie girls did. The thought of sleeping with a greasy old man made my skin crawl. Instead I asked Sammy, another junkie, to teach me his trade. Boosting: what the police would refer to as petty theft.At my first day of on-the-job training with Sammy, we pretended to be a married couple grocery shopping. But in reality I was watching him steal with laser-like focus. By the end of the day it was apparent I had a natural talent for stealing meat. After we stole the meat we’d sell it half price and get our dope money. It didn’t take long before I had customers all over town who wanted to buy my meat. I soon had a reputation with other junkies for being the best cattle rustler west of the 405.I sped down the cereal aisle and grabbed three boxes of Corn Flakes. I then headed to the butcher section. My gaze landed lovingly on the bulging pink meat packaged in tight saran-wrap that lined the open freezer. I took a deep breath before loading my cart up with filet mignon, New York and T-bone steaks. In less than a minute I had what I considered to be a pretty good haul. I covered the packages with my Corn Flakes boxes and did a 180 with my cart.I headed down the back of the supermarket until I found an empty aisle. There, I stopped midway and loosened my belt. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it beating inside my brain. I bent over, grabbed a steak, and shoved it down the back of my pants. It was cold. Goose bumps erupted all over my sun-starved flesh. I moved fast, stuffing one steak after another around my waist.Suddenly, a fresh-faced mother with a toddler tucked in her cart headed toward me. I dropped the steak back into my cart and reached for a can of Campbell’s soup, pretending to read the ingredients. The click-clacking of the other cart’s wheels drew closer.Whenever I boosted, my super powers kicked in. My mind could easily shift between thinking, observing, and analyzing my surroundings for any threats. This hyper-vigilant state was the direct result of growing up with a schizophrenic mother who was loving one minute and ballistic the next. When I was 7, my mother drowned herself in the bathtub but by then the neural pathways in my brain had already been set. This vigilance, which had once been a handicap, became a gift whenever I boosted.The cart was behind me now and the mother’s voice sounded soothing as she spoke to her child: “You can have a cookie after dinner sweetie.”Hearing their tender interaction turned my stomach into a tight fist. I felt the familiar pang of resentment. I often imagined how things might have been different if my family hadn’t been so fucked up. What if I’d had a loving mother who was there for me through all the benchmarks in my life? Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be standing in a market with a steak stuck in my pants and blood dripping down the back of my legs.I watched them disappear around the corner before stuffing more meat around my emaciated waistline. By the time I was done I resembled a suicide bomber ready to blow the place up. With meat.Once the last two steaks were securely tucked away I abandoned the cart and moved stealth-like towards the front of the store. My goal was to slip out without any employees noticing me. But with blood seeping down my legs I was afraid I’d draw unneeded attention to myself. All my favorite jeans were ruined.My breath grew shallow as I turned sideways through a closed cash register aisle. I was several feet from freedom when the paunch belly store manager yelled from his station, “Excuse me miss. Hold it right there!”I quickly assessed the situation. The manager was walking toward me. I could see my car parked close to the front of the store. I asked myself if I should run or wait to see what the manager wanted. It turned out to be a no-brainer. My foot instinctively hit the rubber mat causing the automatic doors to spring open. I ran as fast as I could, my arms and knees pumping, my tennis shoes slapping the hot asphalt ground beneath me. A steak slipped out of my pants. I hoped this minor obstacle would slow the manager down. But no.Having watched plenty of nature shows as a kid, I could imagine how this scene might have resembled a cougar chasing his prey. Unfortunately, in this action adventure I was the prey and I was afraid a claw would reach out and grab the back of my coat any second. And then what? I’d be arrested. I’d heard plenty of horror stories from junkies kicking heroin in jail. I was determined not to let that be my fate.I don’t know if I imagined it but I felt the manager’s hot breath at the base of my neck. I leaped inside my Volkswagen Bug and punched down the lock. The manager grabbed the door handle at the exact same time. With his face inches away, I could see his nostrils flaring, his eyes wild with rage.“Open this fucking door!” he yelled.My hands shook as I fished inside my jacket pocket for the keys. The car rocked as he pulled on the door, the peace sign hanging from the rear-view mirror swaying back and forth. I slipped the key into the ignition and the engine sputtered and popped. I made a mental note: If you don’t want to go jail, get a frigging tune up ASAP.I hit the clutch and threw the gears in reverse. As I backed up the manager pounded the driver’s window with his fist and yelled “Get the hell out of the car!”After clearing the parking spot, I shifted into first gear just as this wannabe hero stepped onto the running board. He grabbed the mirror with one hand and the door handle with the other. All I could think was: What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with this crazy idiot?I pushed the pedal to the floor, picked up speed, and shifted into second gear thinking surely he would jump off. But he appeared to hold on even tighter. I yanked the steering wheel and made a hard right. He finally lost his grip. I watched him in my rear-view mirror tumble away like a loose hubcap.Oh God! Had I killed him?Relief coursed through me when he hopped up, yelling and waving his fist as I pulled onto Venice Boulevard. My chest heaved as I peeled the steaks from my waist and tossed them onto the passenger side floor. My mind raced with paranoid thoughts: someone must have gotten my license plate number, the entire police force would be out looking for me. I had to get the hell out of there.My eyes darted to the rear-view mirror and I twisted my head from side to side like the Exorcist on the lookout for any patrol cars. I had to get rid of the evidence and fortunately, I had plenty of people around town who would buy it.Fifteen minutes later I pulled up in front of a house in the suburbs. I hopped out of the car, walked up the path and rang the front door bell as casually as an Avon lady. Moments later, Mrs. Wilson appeared, dressed in polyester pants, head crowned with pink sponge curlers under a paisley scarf. She squinted over my shoulder. “Oh, hi there, Wendy.”I nodded toward my car. “I have something for you, Mrs. Wilson.”After we did a quick exchange, I had 100 bucks and she had double that in meat.Ten minutes later, I was a rat-a-tat-tatting on the drug dealer’s door. Eddie opened it just a crack and glared at me with bloodshot eyes. With a taut nod of my head I handed over all my cash. In return, I got four colored balloons the size of marbles. I followed standard junkie protocol and tossed them inside my mouth. This was done as a precaution in case you got busted. Hopefully you’d have enough time to swallow the evidence before the cops could get their hands around your throat. Thankfully, I made it home that day in one piece.Max was still at work so I had the place to myself. Our apartment was six blocks from the beach. A tourist destination for some, but the ocean wasn’t even on my radar back then. Beauty and nature ceased to exist when I was doing drugs.The living room was a strange landscape of overflowing ashtrays, beer bottles, and trash from the night before. Others could accuse me of slacking on my domestic duties but who had time for dishes or dusting when you were supporting two people’s habits every day?After retrieving the tied red bandana in my panty drawer, I headed for the bathroom and straddled the toilet to face the wall. I laid everything out on top of the tank. Syringe, matches, a cup of water, spoon and cotton. Biting the tiny knot of the balloon I ripped it open with my teeth. I was careful not to spill any as I poured the contents into the spoon. I used the syringe to squirt water and then lit an entire book of matches, holding the flame underneath the spoon until it started to simmer. As the powder dissolved, the smell of Sulphur, burnt sugar and dope filled the air.I pulled the brownish liquid into the syringe, spun around and wrapped my left bicep with a belt. There was a bit of resistance before the needle popped through my calloused vein and then my blood mushroomed like a bomb going off inside the syringe. I pushed down on the plunger with my thumb and I was instantly filled with a soothing warmth as the heroin turned me inside out.Afterward, I dabbed the blood with toilet paper while my chin drifted down to my chest.All the anguish, self-hatred and regret faded into blackness. Heroin was an anti-depressant and the only thing I found to ease the constant sadness that clutched my throat.My life was never meant to look like that. I went to a private Catholic school, for Christ’s sake. I knew the difference between right and wrong. When I was a little kid I didn’t see myself growing up to be a junkie. What happened to the little girl who desperately wanted to make a difference in the world? Sadly, she was in a dark place where she would remain for nearly two decades before reappearing tattered and broken in the county jail.It was there, while lying in a cell, I realized I had been blaming others for everything that was wrong with my life. It was my mother’s fault, my father’s fault, and then, in a moment of clarity, I realized I was the one who had broken my own heart. And if that were indeed the case, only I could fix it. But how?I knew I’d have to be sober to find out.In the last 25 years I’ve learned that my mother’s absence left a huge black hole inside my heart. Everything I knew, planned, or imagined for myself changed in an instant. But I was a 7-year-old child and no one seemed to notice my despair. My sadness eventually morphed into anger and I took my anger out on the world. If I were to stay sober, I needed to forgive my mother. It didn’t happen overnight but over time. When I was finally able to let her off the hook, I was the one who was set free.I underwent a deep and profound transformation, but some things never change. Every once in a while I find myself craving a steak: medium rare.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://www.thefix.com/how-i-supported-my-heroin-addiction-selling-meat