Two Doors
February 1st, 2023 (finished on December 22nd, 2022)

  It's morning and I wake up crying in my car. I dreamt I was bathed in white light, floating weightlessly among the clouds. Gently, I was ushered onto one of the clouds, where two doors sat in front of me. I knew the one on the left was heaven and the one on the right was hell. I'm not certain how. Suddenly, a fire burst out in front of me and out of it came the devil himself. At once, he began to viciously berate me, telling me that the door to salvation was already locked and there was no point in fighting to get inside. His voice boomed throughout my body, causing shakes in my teeth. Regardless, I tried to push past him. My attempt was futile though, and I found myself burning at his touch. Becoming impatient, he gripped my shoulders, threw me back, sighed and began to speak softly. His voice was gentle, but my tears wouldn't stop as he repeated that there's nothing we can do. I'm bound to the same door forever. I wipe my blurry eyes and check the time. School starts in twenty minutes. I shake Evelyn, sleeping next to me silently and calmly with my jacket draped over her like a cape. She shifts around and groans, stretching out as far as she can in the compact Corolla.
  "What?" She rubs her palm over her face.
  "Do you want to go to school today?" My voice shakes, which I immediately cover with a cough. I'm not grounded yet after the dream— the burns on my shoulders still feel so tender. I don't tell Evelyn about it on the drive to school. I just sit quietly. Once we get to the parking lot, I unlock the door so grabs her backpack and step out, looking back at me with worry and disdain while she holds the door.
 "You can't do this much longer."
 "I know... I know." I always say that, I always know. I'd be stupid if I didn't.

  Mr. Z's got a drop off for me today. I pull up to his house and shuffle out of the car, shivering and chattering my teeth while pushing my hands deep in my coat pockets. It still smells like Evelyn right now, and I really wish it didn't. My head hangs low with my black hair forming a curtain over the top of my face. My knuckles feel sore against the cold wooden door when I knock on it.
Mr. Z opens the door wide and spreads his arms.
  "Little Jay! How's my J-man!" His shaggy, curly blonde hair moves wildly with his movements and I can't make out his face. He grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me inside his dimly lit living room.
  "Where the hell have you been man! I've been waiting man!" He speaks with a light-hearted urgency that gets me nervous. I'm too anxious to tell him I'm actually on time.
  His voice fills the house and my ears while I notice two college kids, unphased by his tone, sitting on the couch. They are both shaking with their eyes wide, looking at each other with a wild intensity. I wait for one of them to start biting the others face off. I don't know if Mr. Z is all here right now. He's erratic and thinly-veiled irritation. It's probably the same thing those kids are on. My attention fades back to his words when he starts going off about one of his other boys who ran off last night with some of his Xanax. I feel prideful when he speaks violently against the people who betray him. I would never do that. I'd never let myself get dependent on the product. Mr. Z dips into the kitchen and comes back with a brown paper bag. The weight of it surprises me as he presses it hard into my hand.
  "Ok man, those silos down by Mud Lake. He wants it ASAP. Two hundred, are you kidding me? Don't run off either. Clean swap." I must've been acting nervous because he grabs my shoulder and begins to try his best to reassure me. "You got this J-man, he's crazy but you've seen crazier guys before. Right?"
He asks that question like I should answer, but the energy of the room would feel off if my voice interfered, so I stay quiet. This seems to make him angry. His stare grows more intense until he lets off a little explosion.
  "Why the hell are you still here? Get out! Get out!"

  It's a pretty short drive to the silos. I really wish it wasn't that short. My mind continues on its streak of anxiety and nervousness. Mr. Z's voice just keeps replaying in my head— "He's crazy. He's crazy." I shouldn't be that worried though, right? Mr. Z wouldn't put me in danger. He wouldn't let me die, right? He'd be heartbroken. He'd have to be. I pull up to the site and see some smoke rising from around the barn next to the smallest silo. Red paint peels from the barns walls and there's a permeating smell of whiskey and other undefinable stinks. Before I even begin to second guess myself, a trio of figures makes itself visible. The leader is wearing a beanie and a leather jacket, and he's all scrawny and tall with hints of wrinkles in his face. He honestly looks like he'd kill me. The guy to his left is pudgy and Italian with a black scratchy beard and a baseball cap. The guy on his right is probably my age.
  The tall one starts. "You the delivery boy?" I nod quickly and present the bag to him, a little awkwardly. I stare at him with wide eyes, failing to keep my cool already. I get even more freaked out as he squints at me and leans in. His long legs let him get close quickly, and the bag falls out between my fingers when I instinctively stumble backwards. He flashes his wicked yellow teeth and I can smell the ethanol in his breath.
  "Pick that shit up!" He demands of me with a Midwestern twang, the sound going through my ears and shaking my brain. I do as he says as quickly as I am able.
  "C'mere."
  I follow them around the barn and find a makeshift living room on the gravel. A beat up sofa and a steel chair surround a graffitied trashcan fire. The Italian guy grabs my bag from me and hands it to the leader.
  "Y'know some of this kills? Real death." He lifts up the bag for me to see. He's not articulate by any means but his aggression forces me to fear him.
  "My buddy, god rest his soul, took too many one night. You think that's ok? Laced with some shit you can't even pronounce. You think that's ok?"
  I'm just stuck there, standing too close to the fire and and staring at the ground, like I'm being lectured by my father. His dirty hand reaches out for my shirt and I'm pushed hard onto the sofa.
  "Do you want to kill me boy?" His index finger is pressed into my chest and his spit flies onto my face. He lifts up the bag and empties it out onto my lap. A few dozen bags of God-knows-what spills over my legs, some tumbling to the muddy floor. He rummages through the pile and grabs a bag of unmarked pills. He calls for his friends and they hand him the bottle of whiskey the've been silently passing around . He grabs a handful of pills from the Ziplock and forces two into my palm.
  "Take em'. Let me see where your loyalty lies, brother."
  I stare at the pills and then back up at him. My entire body is shutting down. My breath is faster than my heartbeat and my soul feels like it's scratching against my stomach to be let out of this hellish moment. His dirty hand slaps against my cheek, stinging me. He forces my shoulder into the sofa and screams at me.
  "Take it!"
  His grimy hands shove the drug past my lips and onto my tongue. He pushes the bottle of whiskey against my face and it bangs against my teeth. I don't swallow and let it flood my mouth, spilling onto my shirt and pants. He forces his palm against my lips now, screaming things I don't understand.
  I swallow.

  I come to in the dark violet sunset. I'm completely alone now. I don't remember what happened, or what is happening. I must've passed out, but the effects of whatever I took have not left my body. I look up towards the sky. It's beautiful.
  Wait. Oh my god, I don't have the money. My eyes go wild and I spring up. I turn around and start digging my hands all throughout the couch with urgency. I start running around on the gravel, searching desperately. It has to be here. I can't leave without the money but I know it isn't here. What the hell am I going to do. What the hell is he going to do to me? I slowly drop to my knees and press my face against the couch. I don't think I've ever cried this much before. I want to look up to the sky but I know there is nothing there to look up at. Nothing in the sky will help me now. I convince myself to drive to Mr. Z's house to explain everything. Once I make it up the steps on my unsteady legs I knock weakly against the door and stare at my shoes. I lean my head against the wall and feel it pulsating through my skull. I'm crying again when the door opens. All he can see is my shoulders rising in falling in a staggered rhythm. I'm making these shallow, pathetic noises that are impossible to hold back.
  "Oh man what happened man? Shit man, come in." I'm immediately seated next to some girls from a school one town over. They rub my back while and Mr. Z listens while I sputter out what happened. His hand presses against my shoulder. I'm still so scared to look at him in the face.
  "Please... please don't be mad at me," I finally murmur after telling my story.
  "Man... It's ok man. I'm not mad man. Calm down."
  When I hear that, it's like an entire world's weight has been lifted off of me. It's like the jury has declared me not guilty. I start thanking him repeatedly under my breath while I reach for him and try my best to hug him with my weak arms. He squeezes back.

  Before I leave he gives me another job for next Monday. I drive to the mall and fall asleep in the driver's seat. I dream of floating and I land on a gray cloud. But this time it's different. This time there is only one door.
-- > i want to go back home < --