The black water flushes down the sink drain. I feel a weight release from my chest as inky hair stares back at me, blonde colour long gone. A shaky breath escapes my lips. The dye washes off my hands with a bit of hard scrubbing, chipping my purple nail varnish. My lips pull up in imitation of a smile as I wipe my hands on the back of my skirt. Another night, another night out. Another few hours before Monday hits.
My fingers grip the litre bottle of vodka.
I hope I don't remember tonight.
By the time two in the morning strikes, I'm steaming. The club is hot and the music loud but all I can hear is my heart beating. I feel alive. The rave moves as one, a steady pulse to the music. It's liquid euphoria. That's why we come back weekend after weekend, pretending it's happiness. I try to ignore those same familiar faces.
A body pushes up against mine. At first, I think it's unintentional, a side effect of a small room full of wasted people. Then a hand circles my waist, deliberate. I'm about to tell the person to fuck off when I catch sight of him. My mouth closes.
"You didn't say you were coming tonight," Max yells over the music but it feels as close as a whisper.
"Didn't think I had to," I respond. I haven't decided if I'll fuck him yet.
"You haven't come for weeks, Jen." His mouth rests by my ear.
"Been busy," I lie. I can't remember what busy feels like.
"Too busy to come over mine? I've got some stuff I think you'll like."
It's enough to win me over. My lips are on his in moments, kissing him with a fervor, trying to make up for a fortnight's withdrawal. He tastes like a downwards spiral. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth. A flash of pain before his tongue explores my mouth. I lean into him, let his hands grip my newly-darkened hair.
It barely feels like a second later that he's leading me down the street, the cold barely hitting my bare legs. Maybe I'm drunker than I thought. I don't even know where the vodka is. It's not like I paid for it anyways.
We're in his shitty studio apartment minutes later. He was right, I do like his stuff and am sufficiently high as shit. My top is off, his jeans unbuckled. The bed is hard beneath my back. No matter how long it's been, I can never forget this feeling. I straddle him, his hands fiddling with the clasp of my bra. This is desperation in its purest form. It feels amazing.
He flips me over like I weigh nothing and then I'm under him. Control relinquished. Any complaint I may have dissolves when he takes a breast in his mouth, tongue flicking over a sensitive nipple. I shiver. His shirt is off in the next moment. The heat of his skin on mine makes me smile. He takes my underwear off, the fabric trailing my thighs, followed soon by his hot mouth. When his tongue hits that sweet spot, a groan slips past my lips. He knows my body like the back of his hand, knows what makes me tick, and uses it to his advantage. I can barely think by the time his cock replaces his mouth. He pushes into me and it's enough to push me to oblivion.
The edges of my vision darken.
Everything feels like air.
When I crash back to reality, his face is flush to my neck, gasping breaths in my ear. I feel him pulse inside me.
"Fuck," he bites out. He pulls out and lies beside me, our chests both rising and falling quickly to the same tempo. "I missed you, Jen." It's the kind of thing he'd only say post-coitus.
"You missed fucking me, Max." Not quite the same thing. I can already feel myself coming down from my high. Not just yet. "You got any more?" I'm not ready for rational thought - I need to be miles from here before that happens.
He looks at me, almost surprised, and grins. "Jesus, for such a tiny girl, you go hard." He rummages around in his messy bedside table, bags of different powders fluttering to the ground. Max is the untidiest drug dealer I've ever met. God knows how he keeps his customers. His hand reemerges with a hypodermic needle, a colourless fluid already drawn up. "I'm out of Mandy but I've got some leftovers if you're up for it."
My heart pounds. I've always drawn the line at needles and snorting things. But I can feel the come down, like the aura of a migraine, pushing at the back of my head. I need this night to last a little longer.
"What is it?" I ask, stalling. Am I really stupid enough to do this?
