I know that this was posted on Bronzehairedgirl620's profile, but we both decided that it would be better to post it on Stephanie's profile, since it is her story. This is the original Cigarette Burns. Make sure to review.
"Drugs have taught an entire generation of American kids the metric system."
"Stop hovering over me!" I yelled at Mike as I cut the rock of coke.
"Let me do it." Mike reached for the razor in my hands.
"Move your hand another inch and I slice off a finger," I snapped as I raised my razor in the air, warningly. He pulled back his hand. "Besides, last time someone else cut up the coke, they didn't cut it fine enough and I got a rock stuck in my nostril. Now shut up or you get shit."
He sat back on the couch and lit a cigarette. My hands were shaking with anticipation as I continued to cut the coke. Coke, or cocaine, was my drug of choice, everything else was nice, but nothing tasted as sweet as the numbness you get from coke. The minute it hits your veins its like adrenaline rush, nothing else feels like it. Not even meth can match up to what coke does to you.
A small piece fell onto the side of the table near me. I fought the urge to lick it, wanting just a teaser of what was about to come. I looked at Mike; he was staring at me with hawk eyes. I sighed and pushed it back with the others with my razor. "Fuck," I whispered to myself as I started chopping the lines again. A rock star line for him and a rock star line for me, that was the deal, we were going to share it fifty, fifty.
"Fuck it." I screamed, throwing the razor on the table when the lines were straightened out. "Mike, pick your line, so you know I didn't jizz you."
He crawled to the coffee table and examined the lines. I kept an eye on him as I reached into my pocket for a tampon. He was examining the lengths as I unwrapped it. "Hurry up! I don't have all fucking day," I ushered him.
He pointed the one closes to him. I nodded and pulled out the tube that pushes the cotton into the vagina. My hands were still shaking.
"What is that for?" He asked. I looked at him, this was the first time he snorted coke with me. He had a lot to learn.
"You're using this to snort it." I said stuffing the plastic tube up his nose. He pulled it out and stared at it, disgusted. "Don't worry I haven't used it and I don't plan onto now that it's been up your nose."
"Why don't we just use money?" He asked still staring at the plastic tampon inserter.
"One. I don't have any money. Two. It's easier because the coke doesn't get stuck in cracks like it does when you use bills. Now snort up your line or else I'm snorting it up for you."
He sighed before leaning down, the end of the tube stuck up his nose. I laughed to myself; it was always funny watching guys stick tampons up their nose while snorting coke.
Mike inhaled, I could see the coke fly into the tube up his nose he cleaned the line in one try. He pulled the tube out of his nose and sniffed loudly.
"Lift up your head." I told him. I looked up his nose to see if there was still any left in his nostrils, they have a tendency to hide in people's nose hairs. I leaned over the coffee table and put my fingers on the bridge of his nose. "When I push up I want you to sniff hard." He nodded. I pushed up he started to sniff, I could see his body jerk as his eyes widened.
"Fuck." He screamed.
I smiled as I pulled my fingers from his nose. I licked my finger and ran it over the line that he just snort picking up little pieces of the coke. He looked at me. "Open your mouth." He did and I stuck my finger in his mouth, moving it over his gums and tongue. He jerked his head back. Mike wasn't new to coke; he's just never done it right. I was taught by the best so I knew what I was doing.
"Where did you learn all of this?" He asked, shaking from the adrenaline rush.
I smiled. "Years of practice." I said as I leaned over my line, my tampon in my right nostril pushed on my left nostril and started to sniff hard, the coke flew into my nose and my body jerked from the contact. I finished the line and threw my head back sniffing hard. I pushed the bridge up my nose up and sniffed again. My shoulders jerked up as the coke invaded my blood stream. I ran my finger across the table where my line used to be and stuck it in my mouth. The numbness hit instantly. I bit my tongue and looked at Mike. "I fucking love coke."
He laughed and I followed along.
"Fabulous Edward, fabulous." Professor Higgins congratulated me, again. He patted my shoulder. "Where do you get your inspiration?"
I shrugged and stared back at the painting. It wasn't one of my favourites; in fact it was my least favourite. If I had my choice it would be burned at the stake. It was just a painting of the hotel I was staying at, nothing unique or significant about it, but people all over the world were praising thousands of dollars to hang it up in their living rooms. I was thinking about placing money on it just to burn it.
"Thanks, Professor Higgins." I smiled at him, realizing that a shrug was rude. "A lot of things inspire me; it's not fair to only point out one." He laughed and patted my shoulder again, before taking two glasses of champagne, handing one to me.
"That's my boy." He smiled, clinging his glass with mine and taking a big gulp. I followed his lead, holding my lips shut, I was never much of a drinker, the taste of alcohol made me sick, but I pretended to drink the carbonated liquor to please one of my favourite clients. "Carlisle, you have a special boy on your hands," he yelled out to my adoptive father when he was done. I turned around to see Carlisle wrap his arm around me.
"I know," Carlisle smiled giving me a tight hug. I smiled at him before politely excusing myself from their company. I dropped the champagne glass on a table and weaved my way through the crowd. Smiling and thanking random guests for coming. I walked out of the front door when I was sure no one was paying attention. I needed some fresh air.
I stood outside the art studio, a small smile crossing my lips. Mike kicked me out of his apartment. His girlfriend was coming home soon. She didn't know about the drugs, so I was never allowed over there when she was around. It used to bother me, but not anymore. No one likes a drug addict, we lie, steal, cheat- anything to get our fix. A lot of people think we're stupid, we're not stupid, we know what we're doing, and we take advantage of everyone that we can, that's our job. I'm not proud of what I am. Before I started drugs, I had family, friends, and a place to stay. But that all went away the first time I smoked meth.
I was coming off the coke. That always made me feel like shit. I ran my hand through my hair. The only problem with coke is it never lasts long enough, you get the greatest skitz of your life and within the hour, you're coming down faster than an airplane on 9-11.
The door opened. I jumped and looked to see who was coming out. A tall bronze haired man walked out, he smiled at me before looking at the ground. I smiled back and blushed as I reached in my pocket for a cigarette, trying to distract myself. I pulled out a Camel Frost and was about to light it when I realized that my lighter was at Mike's house. I cussed softly to myself, before turning to the man that was walking past me.
"By any chance do you have a light?" I asked.
He stopped in mid step and looked at me. "You know that smoking is bad for you, right?"
I rolled my eyes; I didn't bother to respond with a comment. You always had one good law abiding citizen that had to put their two cents into your life. I shook my head and walked off.
"Wait." he called after me.
I turned around to see him pull out a lighter; it was one of those lighters that you get at Spencers, the one that can be used more than once as long as you had lighter fluid. I smiled at him as he lit my cigarette for me; I took a drag, letting the tar fill my lungs.
I pulled the cigarette away from the flame and pulled it out of my mouth, letting out the smoke from my lungs. My body started to relax. "Thanks," I continued to smile. I leaned up against the wall; he followed my lead standing next to me. I stared at him through the corner of my eye. "Why do you carry around a lighter if you don't smoke?" I asked. I wasn't a big fan of awkward silences.
He shrugged. "In case anyone asks for a lighter. You meet a lot of interesting people that way." He shot a glance towards me. I rolled my eyes as I shook my head.
"Do you always give the 'you know it's bad for you' speech before you give someone a lighter?" I asked, taking another drag out of my cigarette.
He shrugged. "Depends on the person."
"I guess I'm lucky." I mumbled as I let out the smoke.
"You know what's ironic?" he asked, staring at the steet in front of him. He was smiling to himself. I and shook my head. "I came out here for fresh air," he laughed as he looked back at me.
I laughed along with him. It wasn't that funny and if anyone else told me that I would have said something smart, but he was really cute. "Nice." I mumbled. He chuckled before sliding to the ground. I did the same, stretching my legs out in front of me. "So, you a big fan of art?" I decided to further the conversation. He shrugged. "You like shrugging don't you?"
He blushed. "Habit, I never talked much during high school, so I shrugged a lot. I try not to do it as much because it's rude, but it's hard to break a habit sometimes."
I nodded, looking at my cigarette. I could understand having a hard time breaking a bad habit.
"Besides you can tell a lot from a person by how they react to a shrug."
I laughed. "How? You've caught my interest."
"Like take you for example, you don't take a shrug for an answer, that means you're head strong and determined. As for people who do take shrugs for an answer, they're usually laid back and go with the flow," he explained I smiled slightly to myself.
"That was actually kind of clever," I nodded. "But you never answered my question."
He laughed. "Yes, I am into art."
"See? Was that so difficult?" I teased. "All of that for a four word sentence."
He rolled his eyes. I finished off the rest of my cigarette before pulling myself to my feet. He got to his feet shortly after I did. Standing next to him I felt like a Smurf. He was at least six feet tall. "Are you a fan of art?" he asked, brushing off the imaginary dirt off his black slacks.
I shrugged, realizing what I did, we both laughed. "I am a big fan of art; I just suck at drawing. An untrained monkey could draw better than me."
He smiled. "Would you like to join me then?"
I stared at him through squinted eyes. "This isn't going to be one of those moments where I'll wake up in the morning strapped to the bed naked, is it?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Can it be?" I joked, smiling.
He laughed as he led me to the art studio. I was the kind of person that trusted everyone they met. When I was little, I almost got in a car with a group of strange men because they told me they were looking for their lost dog. They were about to drive off when a police officer pulled me out and asked if I knew the men. I shook my head and started crying, thinking that I was the one in trouble.
"What about this one?" I asked her. She was the most interesting women to ever cross this Earth. I stared at her as her eyebrows squinted together, she tightened her lips. Her facial expressions were adorable.
"It's just a painting of a hotel room. What's so great about this? I can see a copy of something like this in any fancy bathroom." She turned to me as she spoke.
Most artists would be offended by her remarks, but I thought they were amazing and unique. I laughed as she looked around the room at the other paintings. I had to agree with her, this was not one of my favourite paintings, either.
"I love your opinions," I said as she looked at it again.
She smiled and turned to me, she had the most beautiful brown eyes. "Thanks, most people think they're silly, and uneducated."
I shook my head. "Silly, maybe, but definitely not uneducated."
She went back to staring at the paintings. She kept her hands behind her back. She reminded me of a five year old on a trip to an art museum. I fought the urge to go hold her hand so she would have a buddy. I looked around the studio, Emmett, my adoptive brother, was winking at me lifting his champagne glass in the air. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. He laughed, which I could have sworn made the chandelier shake.
She turned to me. "Did he just wink at you?"
I nodded. Her eyes widened in surprise, realization hit me. "It's not like that!" I added quickly.
She giggled. "Sure it isn't." Her voice was laced with sarcasm.
"It's not," I said again, feeling embarrassed. "He's my adoptive brother, who has an imagination that likes to run with him." I shot him a glare, he laughed again.
She smiled and shook her head. "Your personal lifestyle is just that, yours."
I rolled my eyes. She was making fun of me. She stopped in front of a painting, her eyes widened. I smiled, this one was my favourite. She kept her hands behind her back as she gawked at it. I leaned close to her. "You like it?" I whispered I was afraid if I spoke too loud I would frighten her.
She nodded. "It's beautiful," she gaped.
"It's a painting of my mother, before she died. It's one of my favourites." She turned around so fast that she almost ran into me. Her eyes were still wide with amazement.
"Your mother?" She asked.
"You're Edward Cullen?" She almost screamed.
I nodded. "The one and only," I smirked.
Her face turned red and her jaw dropped. "You got to be shitting me!"
I laughed. "Now that you know who I am, who are you?" I asked, I forgot to ask her name earlier and I was wondering about it all night. I felt that this was the perfect time to ask, so I didn't have to nickname her 'that girl.'
"Bella, Bella Swan." She handed me her hand.
I smiled and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Bella Swan."
I spent the night with Edward Cullen. Part of me was thinking that I was having an acid flashback, the other part didn't fucking care it was Edward Cullen. He was a child prodigy, to say the least. I don't know the story of his life. I just knew that he was well known and could play the piano just as well as he could paint.
People stared at us, but most of them kept their distance. I knew that they probably didn't want to talk to me. I didn't look so great today. My hair was dirty, my clothes smelled funny, and I had bruises running on the side of my neck. Word of advice, never call your drug dealer a crack smoking monkey. They don't seem to like that too much.
He led me outside as everyone evacuated the building. He pulled out his cell phone; I stared at the silver razor, jealousy piercing through my veins. "It's getting late…" he trailed off.
I nodded knowing that the tour ends here. "Thanks for the tour. It was really nice meeting you."
I threw my hood over my head and started to walk off, not wanting to waste anymore time. "Wait!" He called after me.
I turned around to look at him. "Yeah?" I asked, scared that he realized that I stole his lighter out of his pocket when he wasn't looking.
"It's dangerous to walk out here alone. Do you want a ride?" He asked.
I sighed in relief. I didn't want to give back the lighter, it was too cool.
I shook my head. "No thanks, I'm not sure where I'm staying tonight anyways." Like I said, we're not stupid. We know how to play the pity act. I had him wrapped around my finger, now all he had to do was take the bait and I had a place to stay for the night. Though, I wasn't sure what the consequences would be. People aren't so generous these days.
I started to turn when he yelled at me to stop; I smiled to myself before turning around to look at him, again. He sighed. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?" he asked.
I nodded slowly; years of practice made me the queen at this game. "If it's ok with you…" I trailed off.
"It's not a problem." He smiled. My heart jumped into my throat. No trashcan fire for me tonight, and I still had a line of coke that I stole from Mike in bra. The night was looking up.
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