Luca: ReactionsMature

I've realised since that come down, that I've felt like I'm on holiday. Like Gemme and moving to Newberry are all this elaborate vacation package, the house is like a hotel - too big for two people at any rate - and I've been leaving it longer between highs because I want to make the most of it before I go back to the drug den.

I almost miss my mattress on the floor in the dingy little apartment. I miss the screaming junkies, the escape. I know. It's weird.

But I think it's why I've not been freaking out about moving too much, because I feel like I'm just on vacation. But I'm getting tired of abstinence just to try and enjoy the break between highs. I don't like being sober. It's too confusing.

Pulling away from the hug with an awkward smile, I glance up the street at all the people wandering around. I don't belong here. On the outskirts of the town, I could maybe cope. Y'know, where the Wal-Mart and all the trailer trash people live. I belong there. But here in the rich part of town where there's only one charity shop and all these people walking around like they're better than they are...? I think it's beginning to get to me.

Either that or my come down left my cravings in an even worse state than before.

"Um... I'm just gonna go back to the house and dump this," I say, gesturing to my bag of clothes from the charity shop.

"Um, okay," she says hesitantly. I look back at her.

"You don't sound too sure about it," I raise an eyebrow slightly.

"No, it's okay. Go." she says. I ask her if she's coming and she pauses for a second to think, then: "Hmm, nah. I'll stay out. Wouldn't want to drag you round the galleries anyway. I know you don't like art." I shrug, smile and tell her I'll see her later, then walk away down the street.

I feel a lot like a ghost of some kind, just wandering through, not belonging, not being a part of it. Someone bumps into me and doesn't apologise, just keeps walking. I yell at them, but all they do is look around at me, give me this disgusted look and walk off without another word. I didn't even swear at them.

So I find myself back at the house and when I let myself in, my bag rustles. Stupid telekinesis. I know what's trying to get out and I do my best to ignore it. But then it follows me upstairs when I go to my room to put the clothes away. When I turn around, it's just there on my bed.

Grumbling, I roll myself a spliff and wander out into the back yard to smoke it. I take some cigarettes, too, to hide the smell of the weed. I figure if Gemme's busy at the galleries, she won't notice if I'm gone a while.

Heal away the random giggles, heal away the comedown - not that it's exactly noticeable after the last one - and I'm ready to go. Except I should probably change my shirt.

Who cares?

I walk back out into the street and instantly I feel out of place again. It's not so bad in the house, at least. No one to stare at how you look like you just crawled out of a trailer and decided to go wander around town. No one to ignore you.

Because that's all I get. I'm either ignored or stared at.

I hate both reactions.

Anyways I wander around a bit looking for Gemme, and eventually see her in a gallery. I have a mini internal debate about whether I should go in and catch up with her, or if I should sit in a cafe outside until she comes out.

I go with the second one.

The End

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