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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/912554-Ecstacy
by Jake
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Tragedy · #912554
The insanity of ecstasy.
The hash pipe flares in the darkness. Strobe lights flash and across the room I see two people making out. My house is filled with people, I don't even know half of them. Why should it matter though, my own little world surrounds me again, the little dolphin imprinted pill begins it’s tingle. Soon enough I’ll be imagining love and all this chaos will float out of my mind.

Someone passes a joint to me, I inhale a few clouds and toss it in the tray. Around the house I hear random crashes and spurts of laughter, the low hum of the air conditioner. It's been two weeks since she left me, simply saying
“ We’re through, I’m getting claustrophobic”. Fuck you. My bodies covered in orgasmic tension. You know that feeling right before you climax, it’s constant now. The rooms changing colors and somehow there's a chick laying in my arms. She keeps saying, “I love you, I love you, I love you”, guess she’s on it too. I slide my hand toward the top button of her pants, slowly pulling it out of place then using my index finger to push her zipper down, she grabs her pockets and pulls down, my finger slides in.

Within minutes we're naked in the living room floor. I’ve always wondered what it was like to make love on X, soon enough i’ll know. I slowly start to penetrate her, it’s unimaginable, the feeling, completely sexual but she's still saying " I love you, I love you". It takes complete hold of your body and your mind soars, way above the clouds. The warmth of her makes me shiver with happiness but I keep everything going, slow motion, just feeling the constant climax with no consequence. I stare at her face, there's lipstick across her cheeks, red the color of blood. I love this. From behind I hear a faint scream but nothing could take my concentration off of her. It’s like heaven except here there is no god. The only reason to live is the sex, the feeling.

Still inside of her I hear a door slam closed, it's probably just a drunk, whatever, it doesn't matter right now. If i'd felt this way my entire life, I would have never lived, just fucked. From behind me I hear someone arguing, someone fighting, someone's fist slam into the wall, I think someone just smashed my mothers lamp. There's something jabbing me in the back of the head and with a slight rotation there's a gun in my face. I'd expected this today. Something to push me over the edge. My hand snatches the gun and before I know it my fist are crushing his face. The sound of his nose breaking sends shocks through me but I keep pounding, the feeling is making my breathing stop and the strobe light makes it all so exciting. On ecstasy anger filters into joy and any contact makes your body cringe in amazement. Blood spraying around the room and my fists are still smashing his face. The whole time i'm imagining my own face, my own life, my own ending. So many things devouring my brain cells, sometimes even my soul. Caring isn't part of me anymore.

Bones shatter and pop, louder with each punch, his right eye is hanging down over his temple, my palm smashes into it, his eyeball explodes and his breathing is frantic now, I can't help but laugh. With my right hand I lift the gun and force it into his jagged pointed teeth, forcing it into his throat, skull fucking him with a gun. His teeth scrape across the guns surface reminding me of fingernails on a chalkboard. Metal touches metal and my finger keeps pulling back. Two, three, four, five gunshots. There’s nothing left of his once broken face, only blood, brains and leftover skull, I no longer care for a happy ending.

The houseful of useless fucks has started screaming, moving almost, who cares, I hate every fucking one of them. I tell my one time lover to come to the bathroom, she says, "I can't", so I grab her hand and pull back into the room. Now she's saying, "I really do love you, I think", I tell her, " If you love me you'll help me get away from here, away from this life". She knows what I mean and her eyes swell with tears, I don't think she knows my name. I guess this is love at first sight but I just wanted a blow job before I died. Maybe love is only sex, a pointless race of orgasims, whoever get's off the most wins. I pass the gun to her, my fingers sliding back across hers as she pulls away, fully loaded. She tells me,"I've never held a gun". "Just pull the trigger" I say, "Just pull the trigger.

She pulls the gun up and places it against her own head. I don't know why she's doing this but my eyes can't leave her's. The gun fires and I already hear the sirens, probably for the first victim. I guess she's my second in some fucked up way. The gun still smoking, her blood slowly trailing down my face, part of her skull laying in my lap, the decapitated teenager in my living room, everything, it's all my fault.

I hear someone scream, "Now", the front door smashes in, footsteps echoe through the house, shaking the walls. The bathroom door knob twists left then right, my hand lifts the gun and the flembsy door smashes in. From the hallway I hear, "Drop the fucking gun, NOW." My gun fires of, once, twice, three times, click. A guy steps around the corner. One last heavenly sound and the darkness devoures me.

"Ecstasy"

© Copyright 2004 Jake (mychemicalpain at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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