it
until
I
am
no
longer
the
one
consuming
but
the
one
consumed.
35
NIA
“Where’s your money?” Bobby’s voice is annoying in my ear, but it’s his incessant nudging of my shoulder that forces me to open my eyes.
Not
asleep
not
awake
not
quite
here.
“Front zipper,” I mumble.
“There’s only forty here.” His voice is stern, the paper bills fanning my face.
“Then you already took the rest.” I push him away, my tone sharpening the more he invades my space.
He doesn’t move though, his body turning into a solid wall. “You owe me money.”
“Fuck off, Ryan,” I groan, too high to do more than swat infront of my face.
“This isn’t Ryan’s house, little girl.” He shakes me harder.
“You’ve done just as much of my shit as I’ve done of yours.” I’m alert now, but I’m incredibly fucked up still.