Part 2A

AJ

A cell phone, a ride, and a knapsack. Three essential tools needed in order to pull of my plan. In order to pull some strings. Step one - a ride. As I sat in the car on my way to summer tutoring, I couldn’t help but become utterly pissed. I’ve got to be the only kid that has to wake up early and go to tutoring over the summer. Well maybe not the only kid, but the only kid who makes high A’s. That’s Miss Jarett for you. Wonder how long she’ll be a Jarett.
As the car pulled to a stop in front of the Summer Learning is Fun (SLIF) building, I leaped out anxious to free myself from my mom’s burning stare. I watched as she sped away, and wondered what she was thinking. Probably something along the lines of, “Why can’t he just be perfect and make all 100 percent averages.” Sounds like my mom to me.
Dismissing the thought of her over expecting personality, I whipped my cell phone out and held down the number three. Chance’s number. He has been my best friend for years. He is very reliable. He picked up on the third ring.
“What the hell…it’s nine o’clock.” How friendly.
“Did I disturb your beauty sleep?”
“Go…” I cut him off.
“I need a favor,” I asked nervously. I had asked him favors before, but this was a little different.
“What?”
“I need a ride to your house.”
“Why, can’t your monster take you here herself?” He was referring to my mom.
“No, look Chance; you have to keep this on the down low…” Should I tell him?
“What,” he said seriously. He was awake now.
“I’m outta this dump. I’m hooking up with Amelia and going wherever the hell she wants to go.”
“No, dude, you can’t!” He’d miss me.
“I can’t deal with her any longer! She is driving out of my mind. I gotta crash at your place for a few nights until I can get in touch with her. Please.”
“What are you going to tell your mom?”
“My mom, phsst, I’m not telling her anything but see ya. Look I’m all packed, all you have to do is pick me up at SLIF and I’ll be good to go.” Thank God I packed that knapsack.
“What should I tell my mom? I still don’t know if this is a good idea.” He was doubtful.
“Look, I love you man, but I’ve got to do this for myself. She is like a friggin’ trash bag around you head, always suffocating you, earning her living off of your air. Don’t worry about your mom. I can handle it.”
“Dude, I don’t want you to go. You’re like my brother.” He was about to cry.
“If I was your brother you’d want me to be happy right?”
“Well I want you to be happy regardless.”
“Well this is how you can make me happy.”
“Is this really what you want?”
“I’ll be waiting.”

Phase one – complete.

Jenna(This was hard to write)

Blood and no tears. Control and utter despair. Pain and no bite. So this is what hell is like. Digging your own hole. Loving it. Falling in. Hating it. And yes, you guessed it, digging deeper. It’s a cycle. It’s a path. It’s a cycle that I chose to become a part of that bitter afternoon. I opened my eyes. All was gray, like a veil of lifelessness lying harshly over my eyes. My eyes. To see one’s own blood is something your eyes must adjust to.
Dancing with the flame of no emotion is a tricky thing to do. For how do you dance with something that isn’t there? This is what I describe it as. It? Cutting my own flesh. Smelling my own blood. And getting a sick satisfaction from the deed. Was it the pain I longed for? Possibly… that is only to be told by time. For only time can tell what was to happen to me. What type of slopes I would slip down. What type of mountains I would fail to climb, just like all the mountains before.
And with a smile, the water poured over the stained blade, washing away a bit of me into the drain below. I smiled on. A satisfaction of blood is a sick one indeed, one indescribable. One worthy of shame. To step down a staircase unknowing of what lies at the bottom. This is what I chose to do. And I didn’t even know that there was a damn staircase in the first place.
I turn away towards the staircase belonging to my house. I turn away wondering what the effects of my actions this afternoon would be. I turned away just praying that there might just be someone listening to my prayer. Or at least something. More than just my own brain. I’m short circuiting, losing control of my very thoughts. For what I just experienced was indescribable. There is no one word for what I had just done. Well, yes, there is; cut.
But how do you put the experience into words? You don’t. You just know. So I turn away wondering to do with my arm.

For I hadn’t bothered to wipe away the blood.

Zane

The door buzzed green and I strode into an empty hotel room with my new “friend” Clara. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but on the way up I noticed a wad of cash in her back pocket. Was it the cash that excited me, or the feeling in my stomach telling me to do all sorts of naughty things? I think it must’ve been the mix.
“So you like?” That voice again. Like vanilla. So smooth, so seductive. It makes you want to float down a river and never get up again.
“Uh, yeah.” Are you crazy? This place is decked. “Are you here alone?”
“Right now I am. I’m not expecting anyone for a while?”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“Well, my brother is here, he’s 22. How do you think I can afford this hotel room?” She held the wad of cash in front of my face. “Let’s just say he has a knack for blackjack. “
“So what do you do why he brings in the Benjamins?”
“I chill out and enjoy what he earns. I bring in the occasional lucky man from time to time as well.” Am I another lucky man?
“Oh…” What to say. The words are sucked from my chest. She has her hand on my shoulder and we’re on the bed.
“Why don’t we take a gamble and see how good you really are.” Am I really going to do this? My brain says no, my heart and everything else say yes.
“Why not?”
I walked out of the room an hour and a half later. I left something there. You could guess it. The past hour and a half was amazing, all thanks to Clara. Well at least she can’t be pregnant. She isn’t stupid at all.
The world is a haze and my heart is rushing. I need something more. I need a buzz. ‘Why don’t we take a gamble…’ she says. Why don’t we? If she is that good at making my fantasies come true, then there should be no problem getting some cash from her. All I need is to work on my blackjack. Get her to play with me. Get her to practice. And in between practice there can be more fun.

Sex, money, and cards – every man’s dream.