Red Pills

The bus pulled away from the bus stop. The guy that stood on the sidewalk now looked around. The summer air was warm, although it was early in the night. He crossed the street and began walking to his friends house.

Tony lived a block from the bus stop. His house was old, almost neglected. The front door had no lock, the basement door was nowhere to be found. The grass on the lawn was brown and crisp. A group of friends stood on the porch of the house. Tony turned to look down the street. "Jay!" he called. "What took so long?"
"I missed the first bus, dude." Jay called back.

Before he got to Tony's place, he popped a few more pills into his mouth and swallowed them, washing them down with a half empty water bottle. Jay's palms were sweaty, and his fingers had faint red stains from the pills and sweat.

In what seemed like a blink of his eyes, he was standing in Tony's kitchen. A group of friends stood around Jay, all of them holding cans or red plastic cups.

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asked. Jay looked around, unsure of who asked. He ignored the question, pushed past everyone, and headed for the basement. Another blink and he found himself sitting on the couch. A thick pall of smoke hung in the basement, blurring Jay's vision.

"Fuck. Guys, I think I fucked up." Jay said, as he stood to try to get to the bathroom. He realized he didn't recognize anyone in the basement, but he wanted someone to comfort. Another 'blink' goes by.

His reflection in the bathroom looks like shit. Pale skin, dark, purple bags under his eyes. His body feels heavy. Without feeling it coming, he vomits into the toilet. Red liquid fills the water in the toilet bowl. His stomach is on fire, his throat burns, his head is pounding.

Then it's gone. The pain, the sickness, gone. Jay stands up, wiping his mouth clean. He reaches to flush the toilet, but immediately vomits again. Now it's a clear, thick liquid. The pain returns, this time doubling.

The third time he vomited he could taste blood. It filled his mouth, running down his chin, and dripping onto the floor. The pain was tremendous. He started to panic. When he had another black out, he's out for hours.

He woke up in a park, early in the morning. Someone laid him out on a bench. The sun was already beating down. He could still taste blood, vomit, beer, and another, unidentifiable taste. Dry blood was spattered in small droplets all over his shirt. Think to himself about the night before, he realized he had, once again, overdosed on Coricidin.