Sweet Tasting Drugs

All day we smoked cigarettes dipped in black sweet tasting drugs. And we waited for the lights to go out so we could go to bed. The sun began to set and the road was windy. The air warm. No music played, no sound was heard. Every sense was muffled with motion and unrealized sleep.

The sky turned that twilight, after the reds and pinks have faded color. A pale dark blue with the chill coming in.

They sat there with dead faces playing cards or talking. I couldn’t hear.

I read a book of small size with pictures and it might have been fairy tales. Everything was heavy and lethargic. Windows open I saw him slither through, like a snake. A black jacket, not trench, sideburns, but thinning hair. He looked devious and his gaze unstable. He smiled at me as he sat in the passenger seat. No. the words echoed in my head but my mouth wouldn’t form it. I knew what he wanted. I knew what he was thinking. His face didn’t move but I could hear his thoughts. I knew what he wanted. A pressing sinking feeling got harder and harder to swallow as my mind raced. As I realized what I had to do.

He sat in the driver’s chair. Just that much closer. The Panic made my heart race. The thumbtacks were orange and my nails ripped the plastic as I knew he laughed but didn’t hear a thing. My breath was screaming. I lunged for him, to push him away, to do what I could. I stabbed the tack into his hand. I punched. I slapped. I pulled. I grabbed. I reached for what I knew would be soft but was scarily hard. But he was too quick. Pushed me back to stop the damage. I needed to get out. I reached for the car door, I looked through the window. They were there. Sitting at that same table with their unexpressive faces and they didn’t move. Nothing was stirred by the wind. There was growing pain in my chest, it stopped my lung. I wished the adrenaline would kick in. I needed to fight back. Every hit I threw weakened me. Every thought of escape wearied me. I was so heavy. So tired.

The air felt too thick and my arms were too heavy and suddenly he was in the back seat. He sat next to me, his breath brushing my neck that I didn’t seem to feel. I needed to scream. They needed to hear me. They needed to see I was stuck. I fought harder, I grew weaker.

Nothing worked and he kept laughing inside my head like a maniac. The more I struggled the more it turned him on. He kept laughing inside my head like a maniac. It grew louder. It grew louder. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t scream and the laughing kept growing louder.

I pushed the door open but the air didn’t change. I opened my mouth. I thought their names. But their faces were unresponsive. I saw a long needle on the seat and I slipped it in my fist. If I could just stop him for a second I could get away. I could get away. The seatbelt tangled around me like chains to a horrible future, ropes pulling me closer. Closer to the man that looked like the devil. I had the door open and I had something to fight back with and the seatbelts held me tighter and tighter and I couldn’t get away. They couldn’t hear my screams.

I didn’t hear a thing.

He got a hold of my hair. He pulled me further in. I knew what I had to do.