Nobody Knows (Razes Hell 1)

White powder, wrapped in cling film.

The colour drained from Jason’s face. “Ellie, it’s not... it’s nothing, really. Let me explain.”

For a second, everything went fuzzy, and I was transported back. Back to that day.

I went into Drew’s flat, closing the unlocked door behind me, and headed for the living room expecting to see Jason zoned out in the chair he’d barely moved from in two days. He’d been clean for eight days, only because he’d been forced to stay with Drew so he wouldn’t be on his own for too long during the worst part of the withdrawal. For the first few days, Jason was restless and angry to the point of violence. He made his feelings clear when he kicked and shattered Drew’s 42-inch television screen, then attempted to smash a window with the remote. But as time wore on, he’d become quieter. His sleeping patterns were messed up, and without cocaine in his system to keep him wired, he’d grown lethargic.

He wasn’t in the chair.

Jason sat on the floor, shaking as he struggled to make neat lines out of the white powder in front of him.

My stomach lurched. His hair was lank, greasy, and he looked as though he’d been wearing the same clothes for days. What happened to the Jason Brooks I used to know? The one who always had a smile on his face. Always eager to book the next gig, always wanting to rehearse and write new songs. He’d gone. He’d been gone for a while, but I was done mourning the loss of the boy I’d worshipped during my teen years. Instead, rage ripped through me.

“Where did you get that?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, his hand slipping, and knocking some of his charlie onto Drew’s carpet.

“Ellie,” he stammered. “I… It’s not-”

The little colour left in his cheeks drained away, highlighting the darkness under his eyes. He clumsily got to his feet.

“Where did you get it?”

“I... I... It…”

“Have you used any of it yet?”

He shook his head, but his eyes flashed with the hunger to score.

“Get rid of it. You get rid of it now, and I won’t tell Drew.”

Not to save your ass, but because I cannot stand the idea of putting him through any more of your crap.

Watching Jason’s downhill spiral had left both Drew and me helpless. No amount of interventions, or trying to show him what would happen if he kept using made him understand how much damage he was doing to himself. Drew made me promise not to tell their father how much trouble he was in, but during the last few months, it had become impossible to hide. Still, it all fell on Drew to clean up the mess; not because their dad didn’t want to help, but because Drew wanted to protect him from dealing with Jason while he was at his worst. He hurt in ways I couldn’t fix with kind words, and my patience with Jason ran out a little more every time I heard Drew’s heart breaking during our – now regular – evening phone calls.

“I need it, Ellie.”

He looked down at his fingers, his hand twitching to get even the smallest speck of powder inside him. The tiny white particles clung to his fingertips.

“It’s been eight days, Jason. Don’t ruin it. Please.”

He took in a ragged breath. “You need to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you’ve cleaned that up.”

“I mean it, Ellie.”

His tone darkened. A smart person would have run away screaming. I knew first-hand how strong Jason was when he was desperate for a hit; I still had the bruises on my arms from the last time, but I refused to let him snort another line.

“I’m not messing around here. I will vacuum that shit up if you don’t. We’re not going through this again.”

He turned away as if he hadn’t heard me. Before he could get back on his knees, I grabbed at his musty-smelling t-shirt and yanked him towards me, causing him to stumble. He crashed into me, the base of my spine colliding hard with the dining table. I let out a yelp of agony while Jason twisted around, pinning me in place. The pungent smell of his breath on my face made me flinch. “I told you to get out!”

I didn’t want to be scared.

He’s my best friend, I don’t need to be scared.

But his face contorted with anger, and he pressed me harder into the table, his hands digging into my hips so hard I felt new bruises forming beneath them.