There ain’t no rest for the wicked.
That’s what he told me, With an evil grin on full lips, and a mischievous glint in those light green eyes.
His bronze hair, tucked under a Deadpool beanie. Skin so flawless, you’d think he was made by angels.
I knew I was getting myself into more trouble than I wanted too, but I couldn’t help it. Down the rabbit hole I went, with this perfect white rabbit leading me deeper into the abyss.
“You’re not as wicked as you claim to be.” I had reminded him. A smirk played on full lips at my words.
He knew how bad he had gotten in the last two years I had known him. We both knew how much he loved bad things.
Especially when it came in the form of white lines on a mirror, chopped and separated into neat, individual lines, and snorted through a hookers dollar bill.
‘Straight to the brain'
Was his favorite saying as a big smile spread across his handsome face. Followed by blue or yellow pills of ecstasy, and a dangerously large amount of booze.
At times, I wished I would have stopped him at the first line. Or even when he held those pills in the palm of his hand, getting ready for the trip ahead.
Did I stop him? Hell no.
Why? Because that was the only time he truly showed my body that he loved it.
It’s like society says, “who could love someone with scars?”
He wouldn’t on a sober day. Oh no he wouldn’t. He would go back to his girlfriend and treat me like I was no one.
But in reality, he loved me.
Or was it just in my head? Did I put up walls just so he couldn’t hurt me when he wasn’t flying high?
Or did I fall so far into wonderland that the white rabbit took me for a joy ride and left me strung out and a fiend for hurtful words?