Spit and Mud

The first thing that hit him a blinding light, so bright Chase swore that he retina's must've been burned out. Staring directly into the sun would've been less painful than whatever was hitting him at that moment. Out of desperation, he reached down and grasping at his pillow and throwing it up over his head as a buffer. That helped a lot, but it did nothing for the pulsing in his temples that felt like someone had just taken a hammer to the either side of his head.

He moaned aloud and tried to bury himself deeper into his bed only for his brain to dismally note that he was not, in fact, in his own bed. He was clearly lying on something far less comfortable with a thick corded feeling to it. Suddenly, something latched onto his pillow, that was not actually his, and yanked it away from his face, bringing the incredibly painful light back even as he screwed his eyes shut tight.

Then a glass of what he assumed was water was pressed into his left hand.

"Drink," said a voice.

Without questioning it, Chase did as he was told, drinking the entire glass of water in seconds. As he finished he blinked and tried to look around. He was in a dusty apartment that look like it might've once been nice, but had been since used by a frat house for a party and the owner had simple done their best with what was left over.

The coffee table by the couch he lay on was cracked and scratched. The overhead light was a bare bulb with a slowly rotating ceiling fan. By the door was a space heater, though it was turned off due to the heat of the current season. The carpet was a dull tan and had several rips and stains.

Most of the furniture was old and in bad shape. The walls were peeling and faded and old mail and papers were strewn about. There was an ash tray on the coffee table that didn't have a single cigarette in it, rather a small set of syringes and several small balls of tin foil netted to a lighter. The sight of the place made him shudder involuntarily.

Placing one hand onto the couch, he tried to sit up. The moment his head moved he instantly felt his esophagus reject the motion and looked around, panicked. Thankfully there was a trashcan to his immediate left and he threw up into it, physically feeling his stomach reject whatever was in it. It was more liquid than anything else and his throat burned hot as he puked.

The voice laughed softly and another glass of water was put in front of him.

"Two newbie mistakes," it said, causing and unpleasant throb throughout his ears and head. "You don't drink without eating anything, and drink water. You're completely dehydrated right now, so keep drinking you'll start to feel better."

He did as he was told, glancing over at the speaker. As he saw the figure who he vaguely remembered stumbling all over last night, he spluttered and coughed several times, trying to speak and drink all at once.

"J-Justine?" he finally got out, coughing.

"Drink," she said, refilling the first glass he'd had and drinking it herself before sitting next to him. "And how are we feeling today?"

Chase winced, the sound of her voice causing it to feel like a mallet was hitting him in either ear.

"Could you speak most softly, please?" he mumbled.

"Nope!" Justine said, intentionally raising the volume of her voice which caused him to somehow jump about a foot off the couch.

Chase groaned and finished off the fresh glass, waiting several seconds before opening his eyes again. His stomach was so empty he could actually feel the liquid entering it as his body began absorbing the hydration it had been deprived of for an evening. As he looked around the lights didn't hurt quite as bad and he was able to maintain a little better, even if it still felt like a baseball player was using his head for batting practice.

Unfortunately, Justine wasn't some hallucination or trick of his guilty conscience. She merely sat next to him on her couch, grinning slyly as he rubbed his temples.

"Well princess," she said, mercifully speaking softer, though not enough for his liking. "How many daiquiris did you have last night?"

"It was iced tea," he mumbled. "I didn't think it was that strong."

"Oh, long island iced tea," Justine said, knowingly. "Yep, that'll put you on your ass pretty good if you're not carefully. I take it you don't drink much, huh white knight?"

"Name's Chase," he said, gripping his stomach as he gagged again, but luckily didn't throw up.

"I remember."

"Why'd you help me?" he asked, shaking his head slightly and instantly regretting it as the room spun.

"You needed it. Besides you… tried to help me out. Would've been a poor repayment if I let you wind up in a drunk tank. So, while you keep drinking why don't you tell me a story? What's got a nice boy like you downing drinks like you're falling off the AA wagon?"

Chase growled, fixing his shirt and feeling around for his sunglasses. He stopped when he realized the must be in his car still. That wasn't going to be a fun walk.

"Rough few weeks," he said.

"Really? You do remember you met me trying to jump off a bridge, right?"

"Oh," he said, lamely as he turned his gaze to the ground. "I didn't mean… sorry."

"It's fine," she said, taking the glass and refilling it again. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. So, what is it that's got things so rough for you?"

"I've been struggling since… well…"

"Since we met?" she finished, throwing him a line which he latched onto gratefully.

"Yeah," he said, shame still burning in his face. "I've been having bad dreams, seeing you after you left and all that. I was worried."

"Bad dreams, huh? They like your vision of me then?"

"Not exactly," he said, and then realized she'd meant it as a joke.

"Well, I can't say I know how to chase bad dreams away, Chase. I just use these to try."

She indicated the ashtray with needles in it and Chase recoiled a bit without meaning too. He looked up as she placed the water glass in front of him again, and he could tell she'd seen his aversion to the drugs by the force she used to set the glass down.

"Surprise surprise," she said, sarcastically. "Mister holier-than-thou-art doesn't like drugs. Sorry your highness but some of us do what we have to in order to get by."

Chase growled and stood up, making his head spin as he did and he instantly stumbled, trying to maintain his balance. He felt Justine grab the back of shirt and force him back onto the couch.

"I'm sorry, alright?" she said, a bit of irritability still in her tone before she took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you and I don't mean to be a bitch. It's just… I guess talking to you reminds me of someone."

Chase raised an eyebrow, curious. Then he stopped because even that caused the horrible throbbing to return.

"Who?" he asked, wincing as he did so.

"No one important," she said, very quickly and suddenly stood up. "You well enough to leave yet?"

Chase glanced down at his watch, and saw that it was just past nine in the morning. He was about to leave when something stopped him. It was… a feeling, almost. It was more like instinct, something deep and primal in him that strummed against the very fabric of his being, of everything that made him human. His response wasn't one that he crafted or prepared. In fact, he wasn't even fully aware of what it was he was saying until the words had already left his lips.

"Should we get some breakfast?" he asked, forcibly reminded of his offer on the bridge.

However, whatever it was that had come from within him hummed again, and he remained silent, studying Justine's face. He couldn't help but notice that she was a perfect representation of the human spirit, as she was. She was very pretty, with her bright blue eyes and full lips. However, the cheeks were gaunter than they should've been, and there were deep, dark bags beneath her eyes that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.

It was at that second that it truly clicked for him. She wasn't a drug user and a hooker. Those were things she did, but they weren't her, not truly. What she really was, was an unsaved soul. Someone separated from God who was hurting and who at their core really wanted to fix what was broken within them, even if they didn't know how.

At this realization something in his vision seemed to change, as if someone had slipped a pair of glasses over his eyes. Her brown hair, dirty and unwashed, was thick and lovely. The snarky tone she'd used, if applied more gently could be endearing instead of off-putting. It was as if her spirit longed to join the wholeness of the Christian spirit, but her pain and resentment kept her grounded on earth.

Suddenly, she laughed, hard. It was actually a very pleasant sound to Chase. It expressed genuine amusement and even joy instead of being mocking or pained. He smiled softly as she continued laughing until the lack of oxygen caught up with her and she gave a sudden intake of air, causing her to snort slightly. The scene was actually quite adorable, and made Chase wish he had a canvas and paints with him, because surely it would make a painting to behold.

"You," she started, laughing again and waving at him. "You are completely hopeless, aren't you?"

Chase shrugged, and she slowly stopped laughing, though the smile remained firmly in place.

"Maybe, but I'm still asking. There's a local place down the street I like. Great sandwiches and eggs. They have flavored coffees too. My treat."

She stopped for a long moment, and seemed to be chewing on his words. Finally she shrugged in return.

"Why not," she said. "Not like I can cook for shit anyway. Besides, you're still too hungover to do anything weird."

Chase grinned and slowly stood up, using the armrest for support. He managed to get upright without wanting to throw up again, and slowly walked towards the door.

"Wait," Justine called, and tossed something to him.

More out of reflex than anything else, Chase caught the item and examined it, squinting to see the object through the fog in his brain. Eventually a ball cap came into focus and he looked at Justine questioningly.

"Just trust me, alright?" she asked.

While her tone was slightly annoyed, he could hear the genuine plea in it. So, Chase put on the cap and opened the door. The moment he did, he understood why she'd tossed it to him. If the light inside was bright and annoying, the sunlight outside was completely blinding. He hastily pulled the cap as low as he could and watched the sidewalk more than anything else. He began walking slowly, methodically.

As he reached the curb and began to cross, he felt Justine grab his left arm and pull him back. A second later, a car zoomed past them, honking its horn at them. Chase was forced to cover his ears as he swore the car must've had a foghorn attached to it from the noise it made. Justine looped her arm through his and helped him cross the street.

"You really don't drink, do you?" she asked, the soft smile on her face.

"No. I really don't. Then again, I don't normally crash on the couches of women I barely know. So, lots of firsts today."

She seemed to think before she jokingly pointed out, "Technically I think you had lots of firsts last night."