I was so wasted. So absolutely. Wasted.

I still had enough wits about me to know that I would die in the shoes I was wearing if I tried to walk another step farther. I sat on the dance floor and pulled the high heels off. My vision and senses spun watching the people dance above me. I felt nauseous from the contrast of colors in the room. Strobe lights colored the smoke a thousand different colors every second. People wore too many different colors. I felt like I was going to puke. Nausea was why I didn't drink. I should have never taken my friend's challenge to try to drink a whole fifth of vodka. I had thrown up afterwards.

Some random stranger pulled me to my feet.

"Aha, th'nks... man!" So fucking wasted.

My body swayed. I threw up on my feet.

This was the last time I would ever touch alcohol. I could snort as much coke as I wanted, but I couldn't even handle a drink. Fuck. I was going to go home after that last guy, but no, I just went and fucked that up. Damn friends and their alcohol.

I stumbled out of the night club and paused outside the door. The Strip glowed in a thousand colors, hundreds of cars filling the roads. The air seemed cleaner outside. The heavy smell of cigarette smoke, sex and drugs was gone. It was almost like learning to breathe again.

God, I felt so sick. Kill me now.

I stumbled over to Penny, my little red Pinto, and collapsed into the driver's seat.

✈ ✈ ✈ ✈

I woke up and puked on the passenger floorboard. I must have passed out. Alcohol. Never again.

I shook as I pulled myself up and shut the driver's door. Everything was so fuzzy. My nose felt weird. Where was my purse? I looked around in a panic. The glovebox clattered open; the armrest screamed as I yanked it up. My throat constricted. Shit, shit, shit. I pulled myself into the backseat, throwing cassette holders and boxes of condoms out of my way.

I didn't have time for this shit.

I crawled back into the front seat and moved to get out of the car only to find I had been sitting on my purse. I sighed.

Moving around had made my stomach do a flip. I hunched over the steering wheel and groaned, more tears staining my cheeks. Alcohol was bad. So bad. I forced myself to sit correctly and reached for my purse. Drugs were a cure-all. A bag of coke sat on top of my bag of crack. I grabbed it and poured out some onto Penny's dashboard. I clumsily raked them into two lines and pulled myself to sit on the armrest between the two front seats to snort the lines.

The rush hit me immediately. The stomach ache was gone. Everything came into focus, all the lights along the Strip, each car flying by. I jumped back into the driver's seat and fell heavily onto the door. I grabbed the steering wheel to help me sit right and started up the old Pinto. I focused on the clock: Three A.M. Shit. I put the car in gear and we rolled out and onto the Strip. Traffic lights, neon signs and cars flew by in thousands of colors. Warm night air filled the car from the windows. I felt like I could do whatever I wanted.

I floored it until I saw the traffic light to our street.

I turned right, cutting across traffic to our road. Headlights flew at me, swerving to avoid head-on collisions. Horns honked, people yelled. I clumsily weaved through traffic, my hands curled painfully around the steering wheel and gearshift. I didn't even know what to do with my feet. I felt like I was going to throw up again. Every movement sent the world swaying.

Where the hell did I leave the parking lot? I didn't feel like dying because I was drunk.

The parking lot was where I had left it. Thank God. The car slid as I pulled her into a hard right turn. I parked Penny at the far end of the lot, killing the engine and just allowing the still, dry night air fill the inside my car. My body shook. Fuck. Shit. Damn. I laid my head on the steering wheel and let my hands shake wildly. I felt like I was on a boat. A boat in a hurricane.

"Calm down, Da-ko-ta," I told myself before raising my head. The world swayed. Cocaine powder glowed on Penny's dashboard under the bright light I had parked under. I scraped the cocaine remnants into a small line and attempted to balance as I straddled over Penny's gearshift. I did the line. It didn't do much other than a brief shock to my senses. The dull ache in my stomach was zapped away completely. I calmed down.

I pulled myself out of my awkward position to sit back into the driver's seat. I grabbed my purse and keys before climbing out of the Pinto. Penny's dull red paint danced in splotches under the bright white light. I closed the door and began toward our apartment. The white stucco walls blurred in and out of focus, tilting every which way as my body swayed.

I passed through the door to our building. My footfalls echoed loudly in the concrete space. I only had to walk up one flight to get to our maroon door with a 206 painted on it. Mom never locked the house. I walked in and shut the door quietly behind me, setting my purse and keys on our grody formica counter.

"Hi Dakota!" I glanced over to see a blob that vaguely resembled Michael, our boss, sitting on our faux leather couch. Static echoed in the room that was decorated in fashionable wood paneling.

"I'm not gon'... Gonna?" I stopped. What was I saying? I glanced at the shifting figure on our sofa. "Gon' tune the tube."

My feet were happy for the worn yellow shag carpet that covered the entirety of the living space. I narrowly missed the tube that was conveniently placed in the center of the room as I stumbled over to the couch. I plopped down by Michael. He put his arm around me.

"Damn, girl!" His loud voice made the world completely fall out of focus. "You reek of booze. I thought you didn't drink?"

"I dun; t'was a bet."

"Man, you don't hold your liquor well. You have puke all over you!" He scooted his feet away from mine. "Anyway, how much did you make tonight?" I looked over at him. His black hair matched his dark goatee. He was dressed stylishly in a black suitcoat and jeans.

"Uh thousand, maybe?"

"Really?" He looked and sounded surprised. Duh, I made a thousand bucks. That was only ten guys.

"Where's Ma?" Michael ran his fingers through my hair. It felt nice. "I've'a gots some... some... Some news. Yea, I gots'a some news. My newest boyfriend's a dealer." He stopped. I huffed unhappily, crossing my arms.

"Your mom's tending to a customer, that's why the tube's on static," he paused for a moment. Moans could be heard coming from Mom's room. I didn't blame him for the static. He continued, "You have a real good knack at pickin' up the best guys, don't'cha, Dakota?"

"Best damn whore in V-Vegas!"

We laughed.

I stood from the couch and pushed my unruly mass of red hair behind me. I made my way to our freezer and pulled out a bottle of Jack. It shook in my hands. I needed to drink until I passed out all night; I didn't want to spend the night over the toilet.

"Hey, you've got a nosebleed."

"Shuddup, Mike!"

I sat the whiskey down and rubbed the blood off my face with my arm. There was a quiet click and the static ceased. My ears rang. I threw a glare at Michael, who had his ear against the wall. Man, was he getting off on sex noises? I would never understand men.

I turned away and pulled two shotglasses out of our grody wooden cabinet. Setting them on the counter sounded like a bull crashing through a china shop in the sudden silence.

Wait.

With the tube off, Mom and her client would have been heard. A loud thud shook our apartment. My eyes widened and I cast a worried glance over at Michael. He would protect us, right? He was standing up now, making his way slowly to Mom's door.

Crash!

My eyes went wide and one of the shotglasses shattered against the ground. Mom! Where did we keep the gun? My heart threw itself into my throat as panic constricted my chest. Tears flowed down my face as I stumbled around the kitchen to find our pistol. Michael kicked the door open as another loud thud reverberated through the floor. Drawers clattered to the ground as I desperately searched. I could hear Michael and another male voice yelling from Mom's room. Another thud came through the floor. Someone got punched. Hard. I pulled the toaster out of the wall. Where was it!? I fell to the ground and pushed the silverware along our grody yellow linoleum floor.

Where?

I heard sounds of a struggle and pulled myself up using the counter. There was only one thing left untouched in the kitchen.

I opened the breadbox.

There it was! Without a second thought, I grabbed the pistol and staggered toward my mom's room. Mom was on the floor next to the wooden frame of her bed. A large, burly bald man stood over Michael, a massive hand on Boss' shoulder and his other pulled back ready to punch.

"Motherfucker!" I fired. The bullet hit the guy in the shoulder. He roared in pain, letting go of Michael and turning his attention to me.

Bam, bam, bam! I unloaded the gun in his general direction before he could get to me. The big guy went down. I dropped the gun and ran to my mother. Tears were running down my face. Mom. I gently grabbed her arms and helped her to her feet. I don't know how I stood up straight. I pushed her matted red hair from her face. Half of her face was bloodied. Her nose was broken. Her left eye was black. The other one was red from tears.

I heard a loud crack behind us and a shot of panic surged through me. My grip tightened on Mom's arms.

"He... wasn't... knocked out."

Breathe. It was just Michael.

I led Mom to her bed and sat next to her. I didn't know where her robe was. I held her bruised and bloodied body close to me, carefully rubbing her shoulder. My body shook. Or maybe it was her. Everything swayed as the water bed rolled under us.

"Mike! Bathroom 'as... stuff. Please help 'er." I stared at the lightswitch. His footsteps shuffled out of the room and back in. It felt like no time had passed.

A box of Band-Aids smacked the side of my head. I blinked. Thanks, Mike. I helped my mother sit up straight as Michael doctored up her smashed face and various other wounds. He looked pained. I ran my fingers through Mom's coarse hair. Her hands were shaking in her lap.

What if we hadn't been here? Mom could be dead. We had managed to save her, but she wasn't doing well. I could tell she was holding in tears. Michael threw a bloody dishcloth on the bed next to me and grabbed the box of Band-Aids. I felt tears rolling down my face.

"Stop that, Dakota!" Michael's sharp voice made me jump. Mom shivered. "Go take this stuff back and get Roseanne the pipe!"

"Can you sit up on yer own?" I concentrated hard to try to make sense. She shook her head. "Mike, please."

He moved quickly, confusing my eyes if I tried to follow his movements. There was a stack of pillows on one side of Mother's water bed in no time. I helped her get comfortable and clumsily covered her in a blanket. Mom. I blinked away tears.

Michael thrust the small pile of medical supplies into my arms.

"Didn't you know 'e was mean?" I asked at him in a whisper. I could feel his eyes on me as I made my way back to the kitchen. The bathroom door was open, the light on. I sat everything inside our pink sink, glancing at my pink reflection in the matching mirror tiles. Dried blood stuck to my upper lip. I licked my finger and rubbed it off before going back into the kitchen.

The pipe was in my purse and always on top, along with a small bit of crack wrapped in Saran Wrap and a lighter. They seemed too heavy. Mom. I entered her room and sat on the edge of the bed. I set up the pipe and took a hit. The panic floated away. I handed the pipe to my mother and helped her light it.

"I need to take care of this guy," Michael said. "Dakota, can you go drop him off at the hospital?"

"Mike, you dum'," I slurred stupidly. His hazel eyes glared at me.

"No I'm not, the fuzz'll wanna know what the gunshots were." Oh, the gun. "I'm going to stay here with your mom and we'll play it off. Did you really make a thousand bucks? We might need it to bribe them."

Crash. My body fell to Earth. Any "okay" feeling was gone. Panic welled through me again. I needed another hit. And another. Mom needs it. Don't be dumb. I looked up at Mike and nodded in defeat. Bribes and crack-- two main uses of money.

"Mommy, will 'ou be okay?" She nodded. I helped her light the pipe again. "'Carry 'im out ta Penny, Mike."

I slid off of Mom's bed and walked over to get a look at the man who had attacked my mother. He was ugly, big and bald. Blood was everywhere. The smell made me gag. Mike grabbed him by the feet. He led and held Mom's door open for me. I let go of the man's arms and stumbled to get my purse. I closed the apartment door behind me.

Clunk, clunk, clunk. Asshole's head bounced off every step. It sounded so hollow. His face dragged on the concrete. Mike was having a hard time moving Asshole; he was twice Mike's size.

"The police aren't on your terms, Dakota!"

I was just standing at the top of the steps, watching. I needed to help. Right. I almost fell down the steps. At the bottom, I grabbed the guy's arms and we half-ran between the rusty, beat-up cars filling the eerily-lit lot. Micheal threw Asshole in the passenger seat.

"Just push him off onto the curb at the hospital." I nodded dully. Micheal's hand rested on my shoulder. "I'll watch after your mom. Try to be safe, I know you're drunker 'n hell." A brief peck on the lips. He sprinted across the parking lot back to Mom. We could have a worse boss.

I heard sirens in the distance. I hopped inside Penny and flew out of the parking lot, making sure to go the right way down the one-way street this time. Asshole swayed unconsciously in the passenger seat. I rolled down my window; the blood smell was making me nauseous. I focused too hard, driving a headache into my skull. I drove five under the speed limit and tried extremely hard to stay between the lines on the road.

A few minutes later, we rolled up next to the hospital. It was a gray single-story building. The emergency room had neon red lights, but half the letters were burnt out. I didn't bother putting Penny in neutral. I pulled the parking brake and stumbled around the car to the passenger side and yanked Asshole out of my car and onto the curb.

People turned to look.

"Getta nurse!" One person ran inside the building. The rest stared. Goddammit.

I slammed the passenger door shut and climbed in, taking off and away from the hospital. I turned onto the Strip and drove. And drove. I drove away from Vegas and pulled Penny off the road next to a large cactus. I couldn't drive anymore. Cars whirred by in blurs. I shut the Pinto off and looked in my purse. I left my lighter with Mom.

Mom.

I could have lost her.

I sobbed.