Shoot Down The Stars (The Stars Duet 1)

David

Dani kickingme out makes me realize how much I miss Emily. Whatever situation we get into, Emily always remains by my side. When I don’t deserve her touch, she touches me like I am worth more than I am. She forgives me when I can’t forgive myself. I shouldn’t have abandoned her at our apartment, but she hasn’t been alone. She and Kevin are thriving as I am withering and dying. Emily is the only one who can nurture me back to life, and if there’s any hope for me, she will.

I pack my belongings into a suitcase and sigh as I look back at Dani.

“So this is it?” I ask, although I know the answer.

I open the door and look back at her once more. Her body language is dismissive and distant. She doesn’t respond as I close the door behind me.

I drive toward our old apartment. I have driven this route hundreds of times, yet I’m unsure of what waits for me at the destination this time. I scratch at the festering blister in the crook of my elbow. My body shows so many signs of drug use now. I consider taking a different exit versus allowing Emily to see me like this. She will read me like one of her books and what she learns as she turns the pages will devastate her. My rapid spiraling decline.

I pull into our parking lot and take a deep breath as I keep my hands planted on the steering wheel. I lower the visor and look in the mirror at myself. It’s a stranger’s reflection. I have bags around my eyes and the slate gray color of my irises is now faded and sickly.

“Who even am I anymore?” I whisper. “How did I let this happen?” I don’t respond, unable to form the words to explain my monstrous transformation.

I grow winded on the long walk from the parking lot. I lean against the railing at the staircase as my body begs for breath. When it’s satiated, I take the steps up to our apartment at a snail’s pace. I stand outside the door and struggle to feel like this is still my home. I lift my hand to knock before I remember the key in my hand. It slides into the lock and twists with ease, welcoming me home.

* * *

Emily

I am lyingon my bed reading a book when I hear a key in the door. It opens with slow apprehension. I sit up with the book splayed across my lap. Thirty-five days. It’s been thirty-five days since I last saw him.

David peers into the open doorway of my bedroom. His face is that of a stranger’s.

“Emily,” he whispers as he shuffles toward me.

He appears from the shadows and I lay eyes on him for the first time in over a month. Before I can reply, he drops himself onto my bed and melts into me. My arms wrap around him out of habit.

His skin is cold and clammy. He looks so small and fragile wrapped up in me. We lie in silence as he trembles slightly, blanketed in the sound of our breathing. I don’t know why he's here. We can worry about that later. For now, I bask in his presence. My phone vibrates.

Kevin: Hey Babydoll.

Me: David came home...

Kevin: What?! Do you need me to come there?

Me: No, we're fine at the moment.

Kevin: Alright, text me if you need me.

I put my phone on the bed beside me and turn back to find David's eyes fixed on me, his lips pursed.

“Is that… that dude?”

“Yes, and that dude's name is Kevin. We've been seeing each other for—”

“Dani left me.”

He turns away from me. My hand races along his side as I nuzzle my face into his neck. He smells like cigarettes and sweat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“No,” he mumbles, and closes his eyes.

* * *

David

I wakeup to darkness and Em's soft snores. I glance at the clock. It’s two in the morning.

While I’m not physically alone, this is the loneliest I’ve been in a long time. I feel like shit. My heart races through my chest as beads of sweat gather on my skin. I close my eyes and try to remember myself before heroin. My dreadful new friend hasn’t been hanging around very long, but it’s been long enough to wreak havoc on my body and mind. I’ve lost thirty-five pounds. And my sanity.

I reach over and scratch the blisters on my arm as my skin crawls. These blisters are the same ones I saw on my father’s arms. Neither of us had been very good at shooting up, apparently.

I would get shaky and sloppy and miss my vein, allowing the poison to leach into the space under my skin. My flesh would show its discontent by creating a welt I would inevitably scratch open. This blanket—as light and soft as it is—over stimulates the nerves of my skin until I can’t stand it any longer. I pull it away and get out of bed.

The ticking of the clock breaks the silence of the room. I walk over to Emily's dresser and open it as quietly as I can with such shaky hands. I stop for a moment and listen for Em's snores. They continue at an even pace. I push around the fabric in the drawer, searching for fallen pills or the small tin she used to keep in here, filled with lovely powder. I find no tin, no baggie, and no loose pills. Nothing. Since when did she clean up? Did she hide them somewhere else?

I ease the nightstand drawer open. Emily stirs and turns over, but her light snores resume. I didn't realize I had been holding my breath and I release it with a sigh.

* * *

Emily

I wakeup and hear David rummaging through my things. I pretend to sleep. His silhouette becomes that of a grotesque monster rifling through my drawers. My beloved is unrecognizable.

His gaze catches mine. He's trembling. He sits on the bed and puts his head in his hands. His breathing is labored and he’s in a panic.

“Emily,” he whispers.

“What are you looking for?” I’m stern. I have to be.

“I just need a bump, is all...”

His eyes dart, and he jumps to his feet, pacing like a caged thing. He rushes toward me, and for a moment, I worry about what he might do to me. He lets out a loud sigh and puts a tremulous hand to my cheek. I flinch, either out of fear or surprise at his cold and shaky skin.

“You know I would never hurt you,” he says, caressing my cheek. “You know that, don’t you?”

I close my eyes and lean into his touch, but my body remains tense and rigid. Something doesn’t feel right. What did that girl do to him?

I look up at him. He's hardly my David any longer. His eyes are wide, sunken, and tired. His skin is pale and sweaty. Almost ashen. His muscles are less defined and his frame is a lot skinnier. Did he even eat while he was gone? I place my hand over his and try to steady his shaking.

“Of course you wouldn’t hurt me,” I answer with caution.

David wouldn’t hurt me, but this is not David. I don’t trust who he has become.