Wasted Youth

Wasted Youth

A Chapter by MCrouch

I was okay the next morning when I woke up, besides the dull queasy feeling in my stomach. I had admitted to myself that what I’d done was stupid, but I wasn’t sure if I regretted it yet.

As I shed my clothes and got in the shower, I noticed the address written on my arm in big black letters and tried to clear the smog in my memory enough to remember the conversation I’d had with Madison. There was so much uncertainty that went along with her invitation and a lot to decide when it came to the whole drugs thing. I sort of liked it though. It gave me something else to think about, even if it would most likely eventually become a “big deal”. Madison said that Rob could help me more than drinking could, and I was ready for any opportunity to chase away my… sadness, if that’s what we were calling it now.

            I got out of the shower and dried off, put my clothes on, and headed back to my bedroom, toweling my wet hair. I opened my door to find Collin sitting on my bed.

            “Hey,” he said, standing up.

            “Woah, hey Coll,” I said, not even attempting to hide the confusion in my voice.

            “I just… I wanted to make sure that… that you were okay,” he said.

            “You wanted to make sure that I didn’t do what I did yesterday…” I said quietly, styling my hair in my mirror.

            “Well, yeah. And… I want to know what’s up. Annie told me about some notebook of yours?” he said, looking at the floor with his hand on the back of his neck. This was his “I’d rather be anywhere but living in this moment right now,” stance.

            “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. I’m fine- I’ve just been a little stressed out,” I said. Sure, it was the largest understatement I’d ever made, but it wasn’t a lie. And of course Annie had told him. I was relieved that Collin had found me yesterday and not her. She probably would’ve reported me to the school office.

            In a way, I was sort of glad Annie had talked to Collin. That meant that I didn’t have to explain to him why she and I weren’t on speaking terms. Normally, I would have been doing everything in my power to fix what had happened with her, seeing as I only had two friends and she was one of them, but something was getting in the way in my head. It just wasn’t the top priority.

            “Is this about Wyatt? Or… your dad?” he asked. My eyebrows knit together and I looked down at my dresser.

“No,” I mumbled.

            “Okay,” he mumbled back, probably worried that he’d made me upset by mentioning my b*****d father. He took a step closer to me, but I walked over to my desk and took a pen and scrap of paper out and scribbled Madison’s address on it from my arm.

            “What’s that?” Collin asked, jumping at the opportunity to change the subject.

            “A thing- do you want some Poptarts? Because I do,” I said, shoving the paper in my back pocket and heading for the door.

            “Yeah, but uh… I really am worried about you, Tony. You can talk to me. I… um… well, I care about you, so, if you need someone to talk to…”

            “You’re so awkward. Come on,” I interrupted him and led him down to the kitchen.  

            We ate Poptarts in near silence, except for the occasional screech from baby Alex in the dining room. My mom offered us a ride to school that morning, and we accepted graciously. I said nothing on the ride to the godforsaken hell-hole, but listened to my mom and Collin mindlessly chatter about lacrosse and homecoming.

            “Are you going to ask that Samantha Reed to the homecoming dance? Tony mentioned you went on a date with her,” my mom said.

            “I don’t like Samantha,” Collin said bluntly from the back seat. Alex flung his stuffed animal onto the floor of the car as if to add emphasis to Collin’s words. Collin calmly picked it up and gave it back to the baby. I shot my mom a “What the hell is wrong with him?” glance, and she raised her eyebrows.

            “Well, there are plenty of fish in the sea, I suppose,” she said, stopping the car just outside the front doors of the high school.

            “Yeah, um, fish… thanks for the ride,” he said, getting out of the car. I followed suit.

            “Yeah, thanks mom,” I said.

            “Have a nice day, boys,” she said, driving away.

            Collin and I entered the building together, slipping past Wyatt and the other jackass group that Collin hangs out with, and I noticed Samantha Reed sitting with some of her friends at a lunch table.

            “So, why don’t you like Samantha?” I asked. Yeah, I was gay, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t tell Samantha was a good looking girl. She had long, red, wavy hair and a soft complexion, and she seemed nice enough. I didn’t think guys like Collin were looking for much more in a girl. Then again, I guess I didn’t really know all that much about what guys like Collin were looking for.

            “Why did you come to school drunk yesterday?” he shot back defensively.

            “Woah, Collin, it was just a question,” I said.

            “Yeah, well mine was just a question too. I’ve had a lot of questions for you lately, and they’re all unanswered. Why are you fighting with Annie? What the f**k is the notebook she keeps talking about? Why would you just come to school s**t-faced? Is this for attention?” he ranted.

            “No! It’s not f*****g for attention! I just… I…” I stopped and looked around for a moment. People were starting to stare at us. I glanced to my right and saw Ryan in my peripheral vision, and was completely unable to form words anymore.

            “Whatever, Tony. Just… whatever,” Collin said. He turned towards the lacrosse guys, leaving me to stand awkwardly by myself.

            It was funny, I thought, how he had been fine until the mention of some girl. Now I had fucked things up with Annie and Collin. Even though I knew things with Collin would blow over by the next day, I felt so alone in that moment, standing there after he’d gone to his other group. I think that was one of the first moments that I felt completely ready to off myself. Then, I remembered Rob and saw a small flicker of hope again.



            Every day for the rest of the week, I would snoop around the little concrete room in the courtyard hoping to run into Madison again. I never saw her there again, but I thought I had seen her talking to the other guy that I had briefly encountered in the bathroom that one day. She looked pretty upset, so I decided not to interrupt.

            The day after Collin had snapped at me, we apologized to each other but it felt weird. Things didn’t feel the same. He knew I was keeping things from him, and I felt like he was keeping things from me. I kind of wanted to tell him about Madison, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop talking if I got started. There were many things that were just best if Collin didn’t know about. I didn’t want to unnecessarily worry him any more than I was. I thought maybe I’d tell him how I felt about Ryan someday, but even I, myself, didn’t know how to explain that. So, we settled on an uncomfortable, sort of unfinished-feeling apology, and called it a day.

            When Friday arrived, it was very bittersweet. On one hand, I had the party to go to. I would talk to Rob and hopefully fix something within me. On the other hand, I had absolutely no idea how to go about talking to this guy. What the hell was I supposed to know about borderline drug deals? Was this an actual drug deal? I suppose, we were dealing with drugs. I didn’t dwell too much on that fact, for the sake of what sanity I had left.

            I walked to my dad’s house after school, which was another s****y detail of Friday. I unlocked the back door and let myself in, knowing that he wouldn’t be home from work for another hour or so. I walked straight up to my bedroom, set down my backpack, and took off my shoes. I couldn’t keep those things on the first level of the house, because my father didn’t want to be reminded of my existence… or maybe he just didn’t want my s**t cluttering up his place; maybe a bit of both.

            The thing about my father was, he was nothing but a big f*****g liar. He drove to his little cubicle job every day, 9 to 5, came home to his little suburban ranch home, made himself a TV dinner and then drank a six-pack of beer until he was convinced that somehow, he was no longer living the miserable life that he led. He refused to acknowledge that I was actually his fucked up accident son, and sometimes, he refused to acknowledge my existence at all. He hid all of his problems away in a little box somewhere, filling up, waiting to explode along with his mental stability. He waited until he was good and drunk to actually accept that I was gay, and when he did, he just pushed me around and called me a f****t. Sometimes, he’d actually try to fight me, but ended up collapsing in a pathetic drunken stupor instead. It hurt me just as much as it would if he’d actually beat me, knowing that he disliked me enough to even try. His story was so much like every other single middle-aged man that it made me sick. I just tried my best to stay out of his way.

            When he did come home, I was watching TV in the living room. I knew that would be his first destination when he came home. He would forget that I would be there when he came home, because he would forget what day it was since all of them were grey and blended together anyway. He’d notice that the door was open when he got home and it would take him at least a good 60 seconds to realize that it was just his only son, home for the weekend, not an FBI agent there to take him away after tracking all of the porn he’d downloaded on his laptop. Just as I began to wonder if there was anyone in my life that wasn’t so f*****g predictable, he walked into the living room and looked down at me, frowning.

            “Hi,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts. He just nodded at me and sat down in his armchair across the room. “I wanted to ask you something,” I continued.

            “I’m listening,” he said quietly, scratching his graying head.

            “Is it okay if I go out tonight?” I asked hesitantly.

            “What do you mean ‘go out’?” he shot back sternly.

            “Well, Collin invited me over… we might go see a movie or something,” I lied.

            “I don’t care, sure,” he said, focusing on the TV which he had switched to ESPN. I nodded and went back up to my bedroom, silently thanking God he hadn’t seen through my lie (or at least just brushed it off if he had).

            I sat down on my bed and took the piece of paper with Madison’s address on it out of my pocket. I looked at it for a while, mapping out how I would get there in my mind. I started to really think about what I was about to do: I- a freshman- was going to a party of all upperclassmen to go buy drugs from the most infamous kid at our school. Nothing in that sentence sounded like Tony Aisely to me at all… and that made me very, very happy. I think the whole point of what I was about to do was to get rid of myself without actually getting rid of myself. I also hoped that somehow I would get better coping skills out of this. Writing all of these letters to Ryan weren’t doing much to help me on that level.

            I waited around the house until about ten, trying on different clothes, trying to find something to make me look older, and eating the stale, s****y food my dad kept in his cupboards. I eventually decided that, instead of trying to look older, I was going to try to make myself completely invisible. I wore a black V-neck tee shirt with a pair of skin-tight black jeans that I knew I had to hide from my dad if I wanted to leave the house, and a dark grey hooded jacket. I took my cell phone and thirty dollars, hoping that would be enough to pay for whatever the f**k I was buying. I knew I was going to end up looking like an idiot- I just had to roll with it.

            “Bye dad,” I said at a normal talking volume from the back door, slinking off into the night without waiting for a response. I pulled my hood over my head and shoved my hands into my pockets. It was pretty cold for being mid-September. The fresh air felt good though- refreshing after being suffocated by the confines of the small house. I knew where I was going, and I was going to get there fast. Madison lived a block away from the elementary school I had gone to, which I thought was kind of humorous. Walking past it gave me a chance to say a formal farewell to my youth- my wasted youth.

            I reached the white paneled suburban bungalow home, which was also humorous in a way. The house seemed to be somewhat well tended to, and gave the affect that a nice, normal family lived there and ate supper together at the table and read bedtime stories to one another. It was funny because it was all a lie. I could hear the bass-heavy music from the opposite side of the street, and people swearing and shouting and laughing from the backyard. I knew the type of people who were inside that little house, and they were not reading bedtime stories, that was for sure. This house was like my father. It appeared normal, verging on pleasant, but if you looked inside, it was a disaster- a whole mess of ugliness waiting to be unleashed on the world.

            I walked in the side door, glancing around to make sure no one noticed me. I could tell that the source of the music was coming from the basement, so I figured that was where most of the people were, but I also heard voices from the kitchen- one in particular that sounded like it belonged to Madison. Instead of taking the stairs down to the dark basement, I took about three steps up to a doorway to the kitchen. Sure enough, Madison was sitting on the countertop with three other stupid upperclassmen kids, talking and drinking out of a large bottle, half full of what looked like rum.

            “Hey I know you!” she slurred excitedly, jumping down from the counter to put her arm around me. “What is your name again?”

            “Um, Tony,” I mumbled uncomfortably.

            “TONY!” she screeched, “You look like you need a drink.” She pulled my hood down from my head and handed me the bottle she had been holding.

            I took it in both of my hands and nervously took a swig, feeling the familiar burn on the back of my throat and tongue. I coughed a bit, handing the bottle back to her, and she patted my back a few times.

            “Rob is in the basement, okay? You need to talk to him and get the stuff. You know him, right?” she asked, her words stringing together in a sloppy mess.

            “Yeah, I’ll find him,” I said with fake confidence. I barely remembered the guy, having seen him for about five seconds. He looked like he was spinning around me for the entirety of our meeting. I was screwed.

            “Good,” she said, nudging me toward the stairs. I descended reluctantly, being swallowed by the darkness as I traveled further underground.

            The basement was lit only by a strobe light and a bunch of purple and white Christmas lights strung about the ceiling. There seemed to be about fifteen to twenty kids- some I recognized from school, others I’d never seen before- dancing with each other in a fucked up haze to the dubstep beats that seemed never ending. I walked over to the perimeter of what these kids were using as their dancefloor, and searched the faces.

            After about two seconds, I found him. His gaze cut through me like sharp glass. Those eyes… those huge blue eyes… they were intoxicating by themselves. I was so scared. I looked down at my shaking, sweaty hands and took a deep breath. This is the guy, I thought, my last glimmer of hope to remain sane and alive for a just a little while longer.

            I approached him, sitting next to his blonde sidekick at the opposite side of the crowded room. He looked around distastefully at the people surrounding him. I could tell he hated everyone here. That was good, because so did I. We already had something in common. This would be easier than I anticipated.

            “Um… hi? Rob?” I said meekly. He looked up at me, his face softening a bit.

            “That’s my name,” he said.

            “Yeah, um, I’m Anthony. Well… Tony. Um, d-do you think you could… I was looking for, um,”

            “You need me to hook you up?” he asked.

            “Yes,” I breathed out, relaxing a bit.

            “Follow me,” he got up and I walked behind him, outside into the cold. He led me around to the back of the house where a few people were smoking and laughing, and a couple was making out in the shadows. F**k, I thought, my stomach lurching as I witnessed their disgusting public display of affection. My mind flashed to Ryan for a split second, reminding me exactly why I was in this situation in the first place.

            “How can I help you, Tony?” he asked, lighting a cigarette and stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.

            “I need… something to… to numb me.” I said slowly, biting my lip.

            “Ah, alright. I know your type. So, pills,” he said, looking around. I shrugged.

            “I guess, yeah,” I nodded, thinking it over, “Pills,”

            “Follow me,” he said. I did as told, trailing close behind him. “Madison told me to take good care of you, you know,” he said casually as we walked down the driveway.

            “Oh, well, that was nice of her I guess,” I mumbled stupidly.

            We reached our apparent destination- a large burgundy Astro van that looked like it would contain a most-wanted sex offender. Rob took some keys out of his pocket and unlocked the back doors. He reached inside a small compartment that had been cut out of the wall of the van and pulled out a bundled piece of paper towel. He handed the taped up, makeshift pouch to me.

            “There, you’ve got 10 Prozac and 5 Xanax. I need $35 up front, $40 next week if you want more, and I need you to say, ‘Thank you Dr. McCormick’ like the good little f*g you are,” he said, almost as if he’d rehearsed it. He’d probably done this so many times that it just became a routine for him.

            “Um… I only have $30 on me. Can I give you $45 next week?” I asked, completely unaware of how I was going to obtain this money.

            “Yeah, sure. You’re alright, kid,” Rob said, slamming the doors to his van shut and locking it up again. He pushed some of his shoulder length, stringy black hair out of his face and nudged my shoulder.

            “Thanks,” I said, looking into his crazy eyes again.

            I had finally found some people who weren’t so f*****g predictable.


            Dear Ryan,

            I’ve finally decided to do something about the way I feel about my life. I met some new people, Madison and Rob, and they seem to really like me. I mean, I’ve never met Madison when she was sober, and Rob is a drug dealer, but beggars can’t be choosers. At least they like me for who I am.

            Rob sold me some pills- Prozac and Xanax. I haven’t taken any yet, because I’m a little scared of what will happen to me, but at the same time, I can’t wait to find out. I’m literally thrilled- ecstatic- that I’m finally going to flush my feelings down the toilet. I’m not going to let them fester inside of me any more. I’m doing something about it. I’m f*****g doing something about it.

            I wish I could actually talk to you about this. I want to know if you’ve ever done drugs. I want to know a lot of things…Most of the time when I think about you, I just feel completely hopeless. I just can’t seem to move on.




© 2011 MCrouch

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Added on November 14, 2011
Last Updated on November 14, 2011




Hey there. My name is Madison. I love writing realistic fiction, mostly LGBT related. If you have any questions about my writing or anything, message me. c: more..

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