L

His name was Mark and he was addicted to meth. He had a girlfriend with pale pasty skin who always reminded him that he was an asshole. Whenever she told him this, Mark would just scratch his shaved head and walk away, he knew she was just coming down. She had loved him once, if that was possible, but now all mystery had been stripped away and that was why she knew the truth about him, that he was just an asshole.
His brother was a construction worker and still had a life to live. He would leave early in the morning at an hour Mark was never awake, unless he was high. They all lived together, Mark, his brother Joe, and his girlfriend Suzie, in a small trailer. Joe got the bedroom (he paid rent) and Mark and Suzie would share a mattress on the floor that was splitting at the seams. It was a wonder Joe hadn’t kicked them out yet, all they’d do was bicker and get high. Joe and Mark barely talked anymore, Joe didn’t want to get roped in to Marks world, and Mark couldn’t face the shame in Joes eyes. They had never been particularly close as children.
Sometimes Joe would come “home” for lunch; the new mall he was working on was just a few blocks away. Mark and Suzie would still be passed out on the mattress, with the broken Venetian blinds spilling jagged light on their bodies. Suzie lay there, topless, sprawled out on her belly with her holey underwear riding up. Joe never stayed long, even though he found the scene peaceful.
Finally, after several months of Mark and Suzies fighting getting worse and worse, Joe just gave the damn thing to Mark and moved into an apartment complex with asbestos paint and thin walls. Mark never respected Joe, he knew all he did at work was whistle at young girls, and when Joe had tried to get him a job, Mark had rejected it knowing Joe had done it out of pity. Now, sitting shirtless on the end of the mattress with Suzies heavy breathing and the broken fan in the background, staring at the ripped screen door and smelling urine, all Mark wanted to do was get high.

Mark drove the shitty old ford down to Safeway. He sped there, and when he parked by the corner his breaks squealed. Mark had a headache and wiped his sweaty palms on his stained jeans. He walked towards the grocery store in a hurry. His slouching, heavy walk. Mark was thinking about Suzie.
He went in and bought a box of crayons and a large pad of paper. In line he asked Billy the bag boy where he could find some “L”.
“Out back,” Billy said, “from the Mexicans”.
Suzie was an acid freak. She would trip for hours, lying on her stomach in her underwear drawing what she saw with crayons. It was the only time she left Mark alone. This was when he would get high. While Suzie drew her multi-colored muscular figures on the floor of the trailer, Mark would sit in the corner with his fathers old typewriter and pound out letters. He would type a page, crumple it up, toss it to the side and type another page. When Suzie and Mark both came down they would hit the mattress and sleep for days. Marks crumpled paper would look like tissues from someone with a bad cold. Suzies drawing scared mark a little, he often wondered what she thought about and the things she saw. She could draw very well, but all she would do was doodle on diner napkins or when she was hallucinating.
Sometimes Suzie would wake up before Mark. She would quietly uncrumple the sheets and read what he wrote, then crumple them up again. His writing was mostly a blur but here and there there would be words or phrases that would make Suzie wonder about the asshole she spent every night next to.
Mark went behind Safeway. There were two Latino men next to the dumpsters, like Billy said, smoking cigarettes and spitting.
“Uh, Billy said you guys have some acid?” Mark said, shifting his weight.
The two men stood up straight and put their hands in their pockets. They pointed their chins out and looked down their noses.
“What are you? Narc?” one said through a thick accent.
Mark scratched his head and slouched a little.
In the end he got it, but it had been an uncomfortable interaction.
Around five am the next morning, Suzie had stabbed Mark to death, she had had a bad trip.