CHAPTER ONE

Circumstance

It was sort of strange and illegal, how they came across the place. The story they recounted was simple: John and Sascha were particularly smashed and wandering the streets like always; the bottle of Patrón that John had bought earlier was well-over half empty and racing through the two men’s blood streams a mile a minute. John always was a happy drunk no matter what he drank. It was John’s philosophy that liquor was God’s gift to him to make him God’s gift to women. Where John loved to drink, Sascha lived for it. He loved the taste of liquor so much that he allegedly had drank himself to immunity. Sascha had (since the beginning of his junior year at least) never been seen even slightly intoxicated, much less inebriated. It was about three in the morning when the duo was kicking up the sand on the outskirts of Cabal, New Mexico when they first laid eyes on it.

“Hey, what’s that over there?” John slurred, pointing towards a house up on a hill.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone lived around here,” Sascha said.

While the two wandered off to investigate the matter further, back home in his apartment, Tanya, John’s girlfriend since senior year, was wondering where her boyfriend and his pain-in-the-ass friend were, and what kind of trouble Sascha had talked him into.

Back on the edge of the desert, the duo were standing before an ancient, but very abandoned house. It was three stories tall with all the windows and doors boarded up, and with no street lights to illuminate it, it was too dark to make out much else. Sascha took a swig of the tequila before sitting down on the stairs leading up to the sinister porch. He cried out as he fell through them.

“God-dammit the wood’s rotted!” Sascha cursed, the smell of the tequila soaking into his clothes stinging his nostrils.

“You fell through!” John bellowed, falling to his knees in the sand.

“And I spilt the tequila,” Sascha pointed out, swearing again. This didn’t ease his friends laughter.

“I’m surprised you didn’t correct me for using god’s name in vain, preacher,”

“Don’t use God’s name in vain,” John said immediately, his laughter dissipating. John considered himself religious, even though he didn’t attend church or abide by the rules of the bible.

“Anyway, the booze is all gone. I should probably get you home before Tanya cracks my head open with one of her heels,” Sascha said, pulling himself out of the rotted staircase.

“That’s my Tanya!” John said cheerfully as Sascha helped him off the ground.

“That’s your Tanya, alright,” Sascha mumbled to himself.

After John had sobered up, the two returned to the house. Upon inspection with aid of light, they found that the entire front porch had rotted through and was unsafe to walk on. All the windows were boarded up and could hardly be peeked through. The building was small width-wise but shot up to a rickety three stories, sided in dirty, rotting wood shingles. Around back, however, they found that there was a back door with a set of trust-worthy stairs. Using a crowbar the two had found in John’s closet, they managed to pry the boards holding the door shut and forced their way inside.

“I get the feeling this isn’t very safe,” John remarked, looking around at the belly of the decaying structure. They had entered what appeared to be a beyond-ancient kitchen. The kitchen sink was full of a nasty green grime; the stove looked to be prehistoric; the fridge was nothing more than an icebox.

“You’ve always been a pussy, Mikhaelek,” Sascha teased before turning his attention to the cracked porcelain water-pitcher on the counter top. Sascha enjoyed teasing John.

“You’ve always been a bastard, Karolek,” John shot back autonomically as he rifted through the kitchen drawers. They were still full of tarnished silver flatware.

“We could probably sell these,” John remarked, holding a spoon up in the light bleeding through the cracks between the boarded windows.

“It’s a wonder no one stole them before us,” Sascha voiced. He wandered out of the kitchen into what once must have been a dining room. There was a fireplace with dust-slathered hot pokers still standing erect at its side. John took one step into the room and sneezed, stirring up a cloud of dust.

“Bless you,” Sascha cooed. John glared at him.

“Don’t mock me, you Godless windbag,” Sascha smirked and took out his lighter.

“Don’t make it so easy, you conceited lady killer,” Sascha fired back as he fired up his lighter and attempted to use it to get a better look at his surroundings. John reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight.

“A boy-scout always comes prepared,” John remarked cheekily. Sascha rolled his eyes. The two further examined the house and found that the ceiling above the foyer and parlor had collapsed. The stairs heading to the second floor looked particularly treacherous, and the two decided it would be best to return another day with a ladder.

On the way home, an epiphany struck the both of them: an abandoned house would be a perfect place to party. From that day forth, the two never drunkenly wandered the streets of Cabal in the wee morning hours: they stumbled around a hazardous house in stupors until the break of dawn.

“You two are going to kill each other someday,” Tanya muttered, watching her Johnny and his tumor trying to figure out how to make carrying a twenty-foot ladder look inconspicious down in the back alleyway from the safety of her bedroom window.

- - -

Months later, Sascha was spending a Saturday night with a bottle of vodka, a pack of cigarettes and a Deftones album. He was sitting on the floor under his open window, letting the cigarette smoke and the sound waves drift off into the cold desert night. His head lulled on his neck as the liquor and nicotine coursed through his veins and the music pulsated in his ears. He sat limp against the wall, going through cigarette after cigarette and swallowing swig after swig of the burning booze. He only rose to take a piss or to turn the album over.

Sascha’s girlfriend had broken up with him today. Sure, they’d only been dating for a few months and she’d been cheating on him the whole time, but it didn’t make it hurt any less, and pouring alcohol on the wound wasn’t soothing the sting. She was too damn sexy to be dating a train wreck like him anyway, and too damn old for him too. A knock on his door roused his attention.

“Honey, turn the music down, would you?” It was his mother’s voice, muffled behind the door and nearly swallowed by the roar of the music from his speakers. Sascha said nothing, did nothing in reply.

“Your father has to go to work in the morning and your sister really needs her rest, with her condition and all,” Sascha’s sister, thirteen years old, had a chronic cough. His parents fussed over her far too much for her own good.

“Dammit, boy! Turn the music off already!” was the biting growl of his father’s voice. Ex-military voices, Sascha decided, always had a bite to them. He wanted to do something to stop him from yelling, from upsetting his mother, but the vodka had tied his limbs to the floor.

“I’m going to come in there and turn it off if you don’t,” was his father’s final warning. Sascha slumped a little more until only his neck was propped up against the wall. Thirty seconds passed, and the door came flying open. His mother let out a little cry as her husband burst in and unplugged the racket from the wall. Only once they could hear themselves think did they notice the disheveled body laying limp on the ground.

“Sascha!” his mother exclaimed, falling to her knees at his side. She was a registered nurse and instantly checked for his pulse. With effort, Sascha turned his head and looked at her. People had always commented how they had both shared the same eyes; a clear, sky blue. Now, hers were tear-stained and his were bloodshot.

“Get outta here, Ma,” Sascha slurred. With his mother’s help, he managed to sit upright. Sascha’s eyes followed his father’s every movement. He watched him pace the room, eye the pack of cigarettes and empty bottle of pills, and lastly fall on the vodka bottle, drained of every drop.

“You were trying to kill yourself, weren’t you?” His mother’s face contorted in horror.

“You weren’t trying to do that, were you, honey? Dan’s being crazy, aren’t you, Dan? My Sascha wouldn’t do something that silly, especially after his father died the way he did, God rest his soul,” Sascha dropped his eyes from his mother’s probing gaze and said nothing.

That bitch, thought Sascha. That fucking cunt and her sleeping around. A woman should be with only one man.

“I told you to keep your boozing out of the house! Your mother can’t handle it!” The old man said, holding his sobbing mother to his chest.

“He said he wouldn’t do it again, Dan!” The old woman cried.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of you! Get the hell out of my house, if you can even stand up,” His voice was serious, angry, and strangled with withheld emotions. His eyes held Sascha’s long and firm, hatred freely passing between the two. Sascha’s eyes focused on the figure standing in the doorway. Her eyes were dewy and nearly hidden between a mountain of thick bangs on her forehead.

“Daddy?” Sascha was sure she’d never heard him talk like that in her entire life.

“Oh, baby! I’m sorry you had to see that,” Even though the girl was thirteen years old, he scooped her up in his arms as if she was half her age. She looked directly at Sascha’s crumpled form on the floor and Sascha dropped his eyes from hers.

“Is Sascha okay?” A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched his father stiffen around his daughter.

“No, he isn’t, baby,” The man said as he walked out of the room, carrying the girl with him. “No he isn’t...”

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Sascha?” His mother asked in earnest. Sascha curled up on the floor and turned his back on his mother.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Sascha?”

- - -

Over at John and Tanya’s apartment, a steady knocking awoke the sleeping couple.

“Who could that be at this hour?” John groaned. Tanya rolled over in bed and checked the time. 5:04 AM.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Tanya muttered into a pillow. “Go answer the door. I’m sure its for you,”

“Sascha?” John sounded surprised to find his friend slumped against his doorway, even though Sascha would be the only person he or Tanya knew that would come calling at five in the morning.

“I need a place to sleep,” Sascha said bluntly. “And to stay,”

“Get in here,” John said, ushering the misfit into his abode. “There’s the couch. We’ll talk in the morning,” Sascha stumbled over to the couch and fell face first into the cushions. John stumbled over to bed and fell face first into the mattress. Both were asleep instantly.

In the morning, Sascha was roused by the smell of waffles. His head was killing him and he desperately wanted something hydrating to drink. He rolled over to find the sun streaming in from a big bay window assaulting him.

“Agh!” he exclaimed, hiding his head back in the welcoming, dark folds of the couch.

“Rise and shine, beautiful,” John said from above him. Sascha peeked to find his dear friend decked out in an apron with a plate of syrupy, buttery waffles and a glass of orange juice waiting for him. Sascha lunged for the orange juice and downed it in a few gulps.

“Someone’s thirsty,” John said with a chuckle. Sascha licked his lips and shot a blood-shot death glare at the man as he wiped the excess juice from his chin.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sascha snarled. He snatched the waffles from John’s hands and proceeded to dig in. John was momentarily surprised by the viciousness in Sascha’s voice before a thought struck him.

“By God, are you hung over?”

“I said, shut the fuck up,” Sascha warned, brandishing his fork and waving it threateningly in John’s direction. John was tickled pink by the very idea that the man who claimed to be immune to alcohol was sitting on his couch was able to even get a little tipsy, much less as hammered as he would have had to have been to be as hung over as he was then. John was content to watch his friend fly through all of his waffles and waited until the opportune moment to pose the most important question.

“So, Sascha... what happened last night?” John sounded innocent, but Sascha knew very well that John was almost always completely full of shit. Sascha took a breath between eating and sighed.

“Liz dumped me,” John winced.

“Ooh, tough break, tiger,”

“Because I couldn’t ‘fulfill her needs,’” Sascha continued.

“Didn’t she want you to like, have sex with her, like, all the time?”

“She wanted to do it when I didn’t have any condoms on me,” Sascha explained. “And I wasn’t about to impregnate her, or stick my thing in her and get some sort of disease,”

“Or get it bitten off,” John added. Sascha smirked. A silence fell.

“I caught her sleeping around,” Sascha added. “With the guy she said was her brother,”

John was stunned. “I’m sorry, man. I see why you got wasted and shit,” Sascha nodded.

“Say, what’d you drink to get you drunk like that? I haven’t seen you like this since before I graduated,” Sascha went real quiet. John’s gaze got more and more probing, and Sascha reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m not supposed to smoke in here?” Sascha said after he had lit up. “Or that I’m rotting my lungs off?”

“Not until you answer my question. What did you do, Sascha?” John was growing serious now. Sascha let out a sigh and put his cigarette out in a pool of maple syrup.

“I cleaned out the medicine cabinet, and drank a full bottle of vodka,”

“Sascha!” John exploded, jumping to his feet. “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Sascha knew the correct answer was ‘I wasn’t thinking,’ but he was a smart-ass. “I was bored,”

“Sascha, you know that sort of shit can really mess you up! Taking pills together, with booze no less, can kill you...” Another thought struck John, a thought that caused his voice to go quiet, so quiet that the next thing he said was barely over a whisper “You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you?” Sascha glanced at him and quickly averted his eyes. He swallowed hard before answering.

“Hey, life was getting boring, so maybe death would have been more interesting,” he replied. John fell to his knees in front of Sascha and placed his hands on his cheeks.

“Look at me, Sascha,” Sascha struggled against John’s hands and refused to meet his eyes. John delivered a swift backhand across the boy’s face and looked into his startled eyes. “Sascha, she not worth that much, and you know that,”

“I know,” Sascha replied, his voice still full of spite.

“I know she was your first and everything, and I know you liked her a lot,” John continued, and Sascha began struggling against him again. John lifted his hand to smack again, but having learnt his lesson, Sascha stilled. “You can’t go leaving me here alone, you understand? You’re my best friend and I need you. Who else will drive me around when I’m too intoxicated to walk?” Sascha smirked.

“Get your woman to do it, dumbass,” John grinned and rested his forehead against his friend’s, both sitting there a moment and enjoying, eyes closed with small smiles on their face.

“Get your hands off of me, you queer,” Sascha said as soon as he caught himself, shoving the older gent off of him.

“Oh, you know you want me,” John retorted as he rose to his feet, the moment of peace already spent. “All the ladies do,”

“I don’t see any ladies,” Sascha responded stonily, his words cold and deliberate. John chuckled and collected the dishes and headed off towards the kitchen.

“I do,” John said, a sardonic grin stretching his features. At that moment, the boys heard the front door creak open. Tanya soon appeared, a big brown grocery bag resting in her arms. Her eyes met the icy blue ones of the degenerate sitting on her couch and she frowned.

“What is he still doing here?”

“Is it a crime to visit my favorite lecher?” Sascha answered.

“Visits, Sascha, are made with warnings in advance and only last a few hours,” She replied cattily, her eyes narrowed into pretty blue-gray slits. Thick, wavy golden hair cascaded down her shoulders and swished as she walked towards the kitchen.

“Your roots are showing,” Sascha called after her. True to his word, in the bottom of the grocery sack waited a box of hair-dye to kill the brown creeping up from the woman’s scalp. Tanya let out a groan of frustration as she ran her fingers through the dark roots of her wild mane of hair and stomped out of the room.

“You know I hate it when he’s here,” Tanya said as she sat the grocery bag down on the counter. John was washing the dishes in the sink.

“Go easy on him. His girlfriend broke up with him last night and now he has to go back to living with his parents,” John explained, shaking his hands dry.

“Actually, they kicked me out last night,” Sascha announced from the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tanya cut him off.

“No,” Sascha furrowed his eyebrows. John went to open his mouth, but Tanya cut him off.

“No, John, he can’t stay here. I don’t care what the situation is, but that cesspit on legs is not staying here and that’s the end of the matter,” She said passively, unpacking the groceries with a cryptic ease. John and Sascha’s eyes met and John shrugged his shoulders. Both of them knew that if Tanya didn’t want to do something, there was absolutely no way to talk her into it. John had been desperate for a threesome since they had started dating, and no matter how much he begged, Tanya wouldn’t give in. She was by far the most stubborn woman he had ever known.

“Any ideas as to what we should do with him then?” John asked.

“I don’t know. He could sleep in a deserted barn for all I care,” Imaginary light-bulbs went off above John’s head, images of the abandoned party house playing across their eyes.

“That’s perfect! Thank you, honey!” John wrapped his arms around his woman and tilted her back and kissed the living daylights out of her. Gasping for air, Tanya righted herself when he was done.

“I wasn’t being serious!” She said, but it was too late. John and Sascha were already getting ready to head over to the house. In less than five minutes, the duo were out the door, leaving Tanya with her box of hair-dye.

“Oh, why do I even bother sometimes?” She asked the model on the box.

The model didn’t answer.

Commentary:

This is my first attempt at a short story. It will be seven chapters long, and made of win. Please, leave a comment and tell me what you think! Love, Skylar Alexander