It had been four years since Grayson died. I wished the pain would have stopped by now. Although, I guess somewhere deep in the back of my mind I'm glad it didn't, it was a reminder. Of what, I'm not really sure yet. I didn't want to forget him completely. I'm just not sure if all the hurt is worth remembering him. I once dreaded the thought of having a child after all I had gone through in my life.
I joined the army when I was 18, just out of high school, because I felt that I had something to offer... plus, I wanted to take advantage of the $10,000 sign on bonus. I finished Basic Training with a promise that I would never have to go to war. Three months later I was activated to Afghanistan for Operation Enduring Freedom. I spent eight months investigating weapons of mass destruction. I found so many faults with the information that lead us to investigate certain sites and locations that all lead to nothing. It wasn't until I questioned my superiors and nearly got thrown into the stocks when a man from the CIA asked me to help him with something. I agreed and when the job was done he offered me an official position as a field agent.
I killed men before as a soldier but never anything like this. After three years of this I found myself numb to pretty much anything. To take a human life was the same as buying a rocket pop at the local gas station. It was at this point in my life that I thought I would be doing this forever. That was until one fateful night that a one night stand ended with two blue lines on a pregnancy test. I don't know how it happened but my heart changed and my desire to kill people left and the only life I cared about was his. His birth changed me and I left the agency to be with my son.
He was blonde with the most beautiful blues eyes I had ever seen. He was only three when the truck smashed into and my jeep and pushed us off the bridge. The love of my life, my son, was ripped away from me as though God was doing it on purpose.
I spent months trying to deal with the pain I felt. I found a job to help get my mind off things but it didn't help. The crying fits were a little too distracting for the other employees, and I eventually had to quit. I tried sports as well as several other activities but nothing helped. I learned that I was not the only one going through something like this, and joined a website and chat room for mothers who found themselves in my position and needed help. It's like AA, but you don't have to leave the comfort of your home.
They all discussed different ways they tried to deal with the pain, but the one commonality among them were heroin and other drugs. Looking back on it now I realize it wasn't the smartest thing to do but I have to admit, they were right.
Through a friend of a friend of a friend, I found the answer to all my problems, or so I thought. My family freaked out and, not knowing how to help me, took me to a local rehab clinic. It helped for the times I was in there but went right back to drugs once I was got out. This cycle continued for several months, until I couldn't take it anymore.
I dealt with family and friends butting into my business and they were eventually stopping my supply of drugs. But I found a way out, a way out of everything. It was the foulest thing I have ever tasted but I was eventually able to drink the entire half gallon of drain cleaner. Sadly for me, I didn't count on my sister bringing over groceries, and before it could complete its intended task I was taken to the hospital and the doctors were able to pump my stomach and transfuse a couple liters blood before I kicked the bucket.
I spent the next year and a half in a Neuropsychiatric Facility. It wouldn't have been so long, but I guess that's what happens when you try to off yourself seven times in a row. But to be fair to me... okay, I got nothing, I just wanted to die. Even now, after having been released as "rehabilitated" the pain really isn't gone; I'm just able to cope.
Of all the things I tried, I did find a few things that helped, nicotine and liquor... oh, and a lot of cock. Those are really the only things that I have found that help. That is, if I want to stay clean.
I began trolling the bars at closing time, fucking my way through the pain. Don't worry, I'm still tight down below. Most of the assholes I went home with were too small to tell if they were even inside me anyway.
I liked hitting the bars up at closing. I may have been 27, but I was still tight enough to walk right in, no questions asked. Plus my natural large breasts always made me a shoe in. It's kind of sad that you can dupe an entire gender by two big 'ol sacks of fat. No offence, fella's. I love your dicks.
It was early on this particular night but I didn't have anything going on, so I made my way my way down to "Cully's". A bar on Fourth Street that was frequented by college kids.
I wasn't in college and I was always the oldest girl in there, but no one could ever tell. I just dropped a few subtle hints like, "Oh I had a 7:30 class," or "That test was rough." They're either too drunk or too stupid to know I'm lying.
I walked to the bar, because I didn't want to be going home. I pre-gamed a little with a half bottle of 99 Bananas before I left with a plan to finish myself off at the bar. It was "call your shot" for two dollars, anything on the shelf for the last two hours they were open. I was buzzed when I entered. The mood was addictive and the energy was electric.
Guys and girls on the dance floor jumping to the music. If you call that dancing. But there was no rhythm to it, no elegance, no grace. All I saw was a bunch of horny little fuckers, so hormonal wanting nothing more than to be rid of their parents yoke and be on their own. They were grinding and macking on each other like animals. As if getting drunk, becoming a slave to the alcohol, wasting money, time, ruining relationships and lives is better than dealing with their parents, who love them. God, I have a lot to learn.
I took a seat at the bar in between two guys, both wearing baseball caps, jeans, polo shirts with the colors flipped up and too tight for them to be wearing, but it showcased their arms, so I was okay with it.
"Grey Goose for me and two more for my fella's!" I yelled to the bar tender. I wrapped my arms around both of the guys on either side of me, pulling them in close.
They both smiled, and raised their glasses yelling in unison "YEAH." And just like that, I was in.
I leaned in to each of them so they could hear me, "I'm Rileigh."
The guy on the right spoke for both of them. "I'm Mike and this is Derik," he said pointing to his friend on my left.
Those were the last three shots I bought the entire night. The two boys I picked out were on me like white on rice from then on. I pulled them away from the group they came with, made up of both guys and girls. But I knew how to flaunt what I had and made the choice of who they would hang out with a pretty easy one. They kept the drinks coming and I made sure they were keeping up with me.
All in all it was a good time, but I wasn't over yet. The cute Jell-O shot girl with a tight little body came by every few minutes. God, I hated her. If it wasn't for her I'd be the hottest one in here. Dam, she's hot.
"I need three of those" I yelled at the top of my lungs, grinding my hips on one of the boys with the other grinding his cock on my ass. I yelled again "You'd better make that six."
