Let's. Get. Dangerous.

“An ex. He lives maybe.. an hour or so from here. We haven’t spoken in a while but he owes me a favour.”  She shrugged, tucking her hands into her sleeves. She was exhausted, having barely slept since they’d woken her and told her to pack her bags. Her court order was up and they didn’t think they could help her anymore than they had. A prescription for her medications was shoved into her hands, and security has escorted her out. She wondered about Logan, and whether Rebecca thought she was alive yet. 

She caught the bottle, grinning as she opened the bottle up. “What are we having?” She asked, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. 

An ex?  As in, ex boyfriend?  And he owed her a favor?  That sparked Micah’s curiosity, and he cocked his head, raising an eyebrow with wordless inquiry. Beth’s taste in friends - intimate partners or otherwise - was heavily lacking in judgement... her present company excluded, of course.  According to Micah, Micah was pretty fucking awesome.  Or at the very least, a protective and decent influence.  ‘But’, he wondered, ‘what was this favor she had up her sleeve, and could he use it to their advantage?’  “It’s medical grade hospice shit, yo... straight off the generous artery of the Oxycontin express.  Help yourself, ‘cause there’s more where that came from... for better or for worse.”

She frowned for a moment, trying to figure out whether he was talking about food or drugs. Deciding she was interested, either way, she shrugged. “Sure.” She took the drink, sniffing it with a grimace before following orders and drinking it quickly. It soothed her throat.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute or two, allowing herself to enjoy the quiet buzzing that came from smoking a joint. Always allowed her to think a little clearly, or slower, either way, it was easier. She groaned at his words. “Ugh, fuck you like reminding me about that. Probably three days with a stretch.. or without a call to Kevin. I don’t really want to go clean man, fuck you know how it is.”

“Wow, you’ve got a guy already?  Color me impressed.”  There was a cheerful spring to Micah’s voice when he spoke that was slightly unbefitting, especially considering Beth likely found this ‘Kevin’ at a shady truck stop and Micah actively didn’t want to meet him, or even to let Beth use his phone to call anyone within earshot of the safe confines of his apartment.  It felt violating and dangerous, and just the thought brought back memories of Greg and of Ashley’s ((Mom’s)) old dealer.  The kinds of shit Micah used to fantasize about when he couldn’t control how and where his mind wondered, involving Beth and Greg or even Greg and himself flooded back as well, stabbing him with post traumatic stress like it had actually happened; being that Micah’s own interactions with Greg had been so limited, what he hadn’t witnessed was really freaking him out.  

Beth followed along mutely, cluthing her lighter in her hand and resisting the very persistent urge to smoke another cigarette. A little bleary eyed from her joint she climbed the stairs slowly, listening to Miah with a wince. “So.. Same old, same old?” She joked, unable to say anything else as she walked into the flat. “You got any real food? Noodles or some shit?” Changing the topic away from his mother.

“Pretty much . . . I don’t have a spine of jello, like motherfucking Olivia, so since I’m back in charge Mom hasn’t overdosed, at least . . . wanna see what we’ve got?”  He meant in terms of drugs, not food.  Beth was likely starving, yet uninterested in the food he’d plated for them on the overturned hamper.“What?!  No?”  Obviously the shit she’d been living on her whole life in no way resembled what he had available.  

“Drink this, though . . .” Micah held out the bottle of almond milk he was holding.  It was thick and sweet, like melted ice cream; by far the most palatable and satiating bottle of ‘juice’ he’d ordered.  “You’ll feel a little better . . . you can have the coconut shake too, but you should finish the sushi.  You already choked half of it down without a problem, it’s really not that bad.  So . . .”  

After turning the bolt on the door - something Micah would usually never do - he faced Beth and spoke in a deadpan. 

“Well fuck man, that ain’t gonna work. I’ll break the second I start feeling shitty. Don’t you remember we tried that once? We fought over an oxy.” She chuckled, pushing open the door before it could shut. “I can’t smoke cigarettes inside?” She groaned, “Seriously? You’ve got all that fruity shit to cover the smell.”

“Ah right, so you see her now. How’s she doing?”

“Was that your plan?” While swiping the magical plastic teardrop-shaped contraption that unlocked the building’s high tech lock system so they could get out of the chilly breezeway, Micah hushed his voice and in doing so, suggested Beth do likewise.  “Yeah, I remember . . . I remember winning.”  A glint of sarcasm seeped through into his otherwise smug tone because in the closet he’d ‘won’ by basically crying.  The subtle sarcasm disregarded the subsequent fight several minutes later, outside by some tree where the two were again physically fighting about something entirely different.  That time Micah genuinely had the upper hand.  ((Jfc this whole page is heartwrenching))  “Naw, cigarette smoke clings to, like, everything forever.  No more chain smoking or you’ll be doing it outside, where it’s negative asshole degrees out.”

“Pt . . . how is . . . how is she?

“I ain’t asking for shit. I’d.. figure something out.” She replied coldly, not knowing what she would figure out but hating being so helpless.

 “Your mom? I thought you couldn’t see her?”  She asked, nodding but holding up the half of a joint she had left. It had gone out in the wind, though she wasn’t done smoking it. “Can I smoke in your flat?” She asked, vaguely noticing his shivering and realising she must be as cold as him. She’d barely noticed, though her jacket kept the worst of the chill off her damp hair was making her colder. Acutely aware of it now she hugged herself, waiting to see if she could smoke inside. 

“Of course you would . . . unless your plan was to detox here, which would be fine.  I could help you with that, but the second you ask me to help keep you clean I’ll scoff my ass off.  I’d fuck that up so fast . . . and you would too.” 

She took another drag, tapping the joint lightly to scatter the ash onto the floor. She was scared, her heart beating faster as she felt panic overtake her at his words. “I uh.. I guess? Yeah. I’ve got enough for.. tomorrow, if I don’t have anything today, and then… Yeah..yeah. I’m gonna get real sick. I’ve been using heavily.” She spoke a little too quickly, taking another puff and kicking some stones that had collected on the sidewalk. Chewing on her lip as she tried to figure a way to prolong the inevitable. “M-maybe, if I only shoot up once tomorrow, then maybe.. two days till it starts getting awful. I can stretch it out. I’ll start to get a little sick maybe tomorrow, but i’ll wait as long as I can before finishing it up. O-or.. you don’t got a dealer, do you?”

“Are you . . . gonna tell me your plan, or did you just do that already?  ‘Cause it halfway sounds like you’re asking for something.”

Beth stood with her back to the front door, scuffing her shoes on the floor and holding the joint between her lips. She barely fully exhaled before she took another hard drag, holding the pungent smoke in her lungs for as long as she could before turning around.

“God, you aren’t getting it, are you? Do you even know.. Fuck. Look Micah. I haven’t been allowed to just walk around for four years. Four fuckin’ years, and before that I was in some kind of military school for juvenille deliquents since the age of thirteen okay?! I don’t know what plan I should have, how to even get a plan together..I don’t have an education, I sure as fuck don’t think anyone is going to hire me for a real job, and most people remember me as ‘that chick that drowned her Mom’. So fucking. I don’t have a plan, okay? You were the beginning and the end of my plan. Past right now? I got nothing. Dealing I guess, or I could be a stripper. But fuck, Miah? Have you met me? I’ve never had a plan in my life.” The words spewed out of her, and once she was finished she settled into an awkward silence, taking another large drag to try and settle her shaking hands. “I’m t-terrified, okay? Everything moves so fast out here. I’m used to jail cells, isolation. I haven’t been out here in such a long time…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What’s with the . . . naw, I get it.” 

“Don’t fuckin’…” She sighed, exasperated as she stood and walked over to her jacket, plucking out her cigarette packet and a lighter and shoving on her shoes and jacket. “I’m fuckin’ going outside for a cigarette, since I’m 99% sure you’ll just throw it in some fuckin’ water if i light up in here.” 

“I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow night.” She said coldly, practically spitting out the words. She’d come to Miah because she had no where else in the world to go after Eichen had said her court ruled time was up, and her lack of improvement had made them lose all hope on her too. Miah was the last hope she had, and she as she stormed out of the apartment and back down the stairs all she could think was.. ‘Look, stupid fucking beth, no one is there. No one in this whole big wide world cares, so why don’t you just go back into the system. At least you then you have a number badge, a name, and you can punch your way to the top of the fear hierarchy. What are you now? A junkie? Not even a Junkie in rehab. No, you’re like everyother fucking Junkie falling deeper into the abyss.’. She banged open the door, lighting the joint she’d had in her cigarette packet.

Micah stood where he was, stern with his arms crossed while he allowed Beth to storm out dramatically with no resistance.  Once the door had slammed behind her he went for his own socks and shoes, taking his time and neatly tying the laces so she’d have a chance to cool off in the chilly night and smoke a little of her cigarette before she’d have to engage with him again.  If they were going to get anywhere in the conversation, they both probably needed to calm down.  Knowing this, Micah opened the top drawer on his dresser and popped a tab off one of the Xanax bars so he could suck on it while he made his way solemnly down the stairs.  The smell wafting off her suggested she was smoking pot, which she would’ve been welcome to do upstairs had she asked.  It was slightly too cold for this. Micah shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and propped the door open with his body so he could stand in the breezeway.  He sounded neither angry no deadpan when he spoke; his voice matched the solemness in his body language.

“I didn’t ask when you were leaving; I asked what your plan is.”

“I’m fuckin’ calm man. Maybe if you can’t taken my cigarette I’d be a little more chipper.” She chuckled, taking the chopsticks and picking up a piece and gingerly popping it into her mouth. She and her sister had eaten a lot of shitty chinese takeaways, so the she was used to chopsticks. Chewing slowly she found that she didn’t really mind the food, and that was she starving. She quickly ate three more pieces, nearly choking at Micah’s question. She chewed her food and swallowed, covering her mouth to indicate for him to wait a moment. 

“I uh.. had some junk hidden on me when I left. Waited till this morning to use it.. had a joint sometime after that. I’ve got some weed left, little nug of junk but barely enough. Joint too.” She shrugged, “So apart from the shower I’m basically the opposite of clean. They tried to make me go sober again, but I think I may have beaten one of the guards into a near coma. His buddies got there revenge though.” She laughed, motioning briefly to her own battered face. The bruises only a couple days old, and her left eye still basically swollen shut, though her hair covered it most of the time. 

Exasperated from her draining story, Micah dropped his chopsticks so he could rub his temples and run his hand through his hair.  What she said gave him the ominous suspicion that he was now harboring a fugitive, although she was clearly still sporting evidence of ‘the revenge’ that ‘his buddies’ had bestowed - which was NOT how staff were supposed to handle patients.  So . . . had the really let her go?  Were they really that irresponsible?  Considering what she said, it wouldn’t surprise him.

There was a strictness in his tone, an almost venomous way about his expression and manner.  Micah couldn’t shoot this vitriol at the people actually deserved it, so it likely appeared to be aimed at Beth since she was the one delivering the news, as well as the only other person in the room.  “Let’s get this straight, Beth . . . I’m not your fucking sponsor; I’m a goddamn user.  So what’s your plan?  Lay it out.”

She sighed in minor annoyance, walking over to fish her lighter out of her jean pocket before placing them back in the hanger. The lighter she held tightly in her head, flicking it on and off as she watched Miah for a moment. She was wide eyed and in desperate need of a cigarette, and she thought longingly of the joint she’d stashed in between some folded up underwear she had in her bag. “How do you even have vegan sushi? Isn’t sushi just raw fish?” She asked, her voice coming out more irritated than she meant. 

“Uh. Maybe the morning before they kicked me out? Two days, I think.” She blinked in confusion, wondering if that explained why the coffee she’d drank on the way here had made her shake. It was trucker’s coffee, black and bitter, and she’d thought it had simply been the high content of caffefine. She peered over at the meal in front of her, unable to understand what most of it was. She’d never eaten the standard salmon and rice kind of sushi, let alone the concoction that sat in front of her. Not wanting to admit it she simple tucked her hands into her sleeve, staring mutely at the tv for a moment. Part of her craved the soggy fries they served back at Eichen. 

Two days?!  Shit . . . that wasn’t actually terribly surprising, but it was appalling.  “Okay, well calm your tits first, then stuff some of this down your face hole before you pass right out. While you’re at it, you can tone down the ‘bitch’ too . . . the food should help with that . . . “  His voice hushed a bit, but he intentionally spoke loud enough for her to keep hearing. “ . . . cranky little twat.”

She nodded, looking down at herself in a moment of self consciousness. She stank of cigarette smoke and beer, she knew that. Her once clean clothes now looked worse for wear.. Her jeans had been tattered when she bought them but now after owning them for five years (and wearing them for three) they were threadbare and loose on her slender flame. She’d been a good weight when she’d left juvi, not skinny but not chubby. Now she thought she could pass for one of those anorexic patients, and she could feel her ribs jutting out as she hugged herself for a moment. 

Blinking and realising she’d been standing there like an idiot for a good minute or two. She mumbled an awkward apology, heading into the bathroom and resisting the urge to scoff at Miah’s bath products. She chose a selection from the ‘earth’ section. 

-magically time skippy after she’s had a shower and got dressed, she comes out holding the wet towel and her clothes in a bundle. She feels much cleaner, her heavy make up washed away.- 

 She felt much more vulnerable now, felt like she couldn’t run away. Back to the outside world where the chaos made her jumpy. She’d been confined for years, had been unable to roam wherever she liked. The realization made her shake with fear. She wanted back into the system.. Maybe she could steal, get caught selling drugs? Anything to get out of this vastness that threatened to crush her. “So uh.. How’s the outside world going? World war three start yet?..”

Sitting on the futon mattress ((there’s no frame, it’s on the floor)), Micah faced both the TV he was watching and the closet door from which Beth emerged.  Absorbing the political satire that was on when he’d buzzed her in had become too difficult, so the TV was now projecting an instrumental version of Teardrop on repeat; the ambient loop had always been Micah and Olivia’s study soundtrack, and it helped invoke a warm nostalgic feeling that could take the edge off his anxiety.  Not that he was particularly anxious; any uneasiness he felt was just on Beth’s behalf. 

As he stood up, took the wad of dirty clothes and damp towel out of Beth’s hands and threw them in one of the hampers in the closet, Micah spoke, keeping his tone almost completely free of condescension - almost.  “Oh, so we’re gonna talk politics?  Jesus fucking Christ . . .”  He had to squeeze around her to access the hamper, but when he turned around again, now empty handed, Micah pressed his palm gently into Beth’s lower back as a comforting gesture.  “When was the last time you ate?  Hope you like raw vegan sushi, ‘cause that’s what we’ve got.” 

She smiled gratefully, hoping it was implied that she knew she was a mess. She knew she was totally up out of her depth, and that life had just punched her in the face, though her face totally looked the part right now, She mumbled a ‘thank you’, taking the clean towel and clothes. Spying the socks she chuckled gruffly, “Nice socks. Wait, fuck, do I have to meet your girlfriend? Cuz y’know.. I don’t play well with others.” She looked around for the bathroom, while taking in her small surroundings. Beth had always felt more comfortable in smaller spaces anyhow, bigger spaces just made her feel exposed. 

“No, not . . . not today, fuck no.  I won’t even text her now, kay?  She’s got homework and shit, or whatever.”  It was completely unclear as to how long Beth would grace Micah’s space with her presence, but considering her complete and total lack of resources, he had the feeling that she wasn’t planning on leaving by the morning.  Even if she was, he’d likely be sending her off to blow truckers for drugs and rides, and he really didn’t want to do that. No effort had been made to properly rehabilitate Beth, and she’d been chucked out on the streets with no way to navigate real world.  She’d crash and burn at least as hard as the junkies littered all over the park; this was why she’d turned up here, of all places.  But letting Olivia know could wait.

“Bathroom’s on the other side of the supply closet . . . ” 

Questions could wait until she’d rinsed off.  Were he Beth, Micah would feel a million times better after showering.  It didn’t matter if she wanted to resist or dance around his questions so she could put off talking about shit; Micah had no clue if she was clean, if she’d hit him up for drugs, if she’d be going through withdrawal in a few hours and bank on him letting her detox in his apartment.  He chewed the fuck out of his nails while he waited, both for Beth and for the sushi.