Solitary Confinement: Don't look back

 

I shake my head and drop the cig. I don't feel like smoking right now. I've always been somewhat of a pimp, but I've never had a relationship come to fruition so fast. Plus, the kid had threatened to kill me earlier. I know it was a joke, but still. He was a tough-guy with a dark secret. No insides...whoo. Creepy shit! Now I feel a jumble of emotions rum through my head. Emotons I didn't know I had emerged from out of the closet. Until now, I was sure all I liked was pussy. I loved women rubbing against me, grinding their pelvis onto my hip, flashing me and even attempting to seduce me. Now, all fo a sudden, my freakish savior has a crush on me...I have no clue what to feel. Disgusted? Amazed? Piteous? Fuck, I'm blank. I make my way to the nearest empty seat. My head feels like bursting. I hope to whatever god exists (or doesn't exist) that I hadn't made an enemy with Kimbley. There's no way in hell I'd be able to live with an inasne killer mad at me. I can just imagine him sneaking up behind me, blowing my head up. I wanna laugh, but I can't force it out. Never im ny 200 year old life have I ever felt the range of feelings I feel now. I feel sorry for both Insanity and Kimbley, but at the same time, I feel...something...towards the kid. Flattery, maybe? All I know is that I've never felt any of this before. Dorchet...I can see him out of the corner of my eye. Drunk off his ass, in for one hell of a hangover tomorrow. He'll be as sick as a dog, pardon the pun. I look to the stage. The music had changed while I chatted with Kimbley. A short Japanese guy was belting out the lyrics to the song, and I can understand none of it. Hey, as long as he's having fun. Kimbley returns, Insanity in tow. He looks like hell. He may need an asprin soon. Or a barf bag. Seriously. He's not looking too hot. Kmbley signals to me. I get up and walk over.

"We gotta go home now. It's late." I nod and turn back to the crowd. Time to gather up all my drunk friends.Loa is easiest to find, 3 guesses as to why. The first two don't count. Martel is chatting up as storm, STILL, with Hughes. Dorchet is a little harder to find. I finally find him passed out on the bathroom. Big suprise, huh? Loa easily picks him up, and we leave. Ahhh...the night silence is so relaxing. I realize I had a headache from the music.

"Put me dooowwn..." Dorchet's voice is quiet, but I can still hear the drunkard slur.

"No, I highly doubt you can even stand." Loa means business when It comes to taking care of Dorchet. After all, he is always the first to get beat up.

"You feeling okay?" Kimbley asks real softly. I can barely hear him. Insanity nods. "You okay until we get home?" Another nod. I know why he doesn't speak. When you feel like you're about to blow chunks, I highly doubt you'd open your mouth.

"Home" was a frickin' huge-ass mansion! Holy fuck! You could get lost in the front hall! Walking through the place, I feel like an elf will appear out of no where and say, "Follow me if you want to live!" Huge! In my guest room, the closet was almost as big as the room! The kid must be loaded, being able to live in a place like this. I flop backwards onto the bed, which is as big as whale. Very soft, though. So comfy...getting sleepy...

Next thing I know, I'm jerked awake by my own dream. I felt myself fall, and before I hit the ground, I wake up. Darkness greets me. I love the dark, but this dark was creeping me out. I feel as if I'm not alone. I slowly sit up, my hand brushing against something. I let out a strangled sort of sound, like a mouse being trodden on. I look to my left, and Insanity is there. He still looks sick.

"I'm cold." was all he says to me. I sigh, knowing what he wanted. I scoot over, and pull back the covers.

"Come on..." I feel the bed shift as he gets in next to me. He really is cold. His skin was freezing, not freezer freezing, just cold, Skin-wise. The feel of his flesh gives me goosebumps. He really needs to warm up. He snuggles up next to me, I sub-conciously wrap one arm around his thin frame. He's shaking. So thin, painfully thin. No wonder Kimbley is so protective.