Free Teach Me by Ashleigh Townshend Page A

stops moving, Lucas stands up, wipes the knife off on his sweats, and walks over to Tim and me.
    Everyone comes to pay, except for a few who claim killing Mike made the fight unfair, and then the crowd disperses. Lucas just fucking killed someone and no one cares. Lucas doesn’t care. What the hell? He takes the wad of money Tim gives him and grabs my hand. I am going to have to drive, because I don’t even know how Lucas is standing up, and he can’t possibly see through all the blood – both his and Mike’s – on him. I wonder what will happen to Mike, to his body, but no one seems worried. Which makes me realize that this kind of thing must happen a lot – and that makes it even more imperative Lucas get the fuck out now.
    “How much?” I ask once we are in my car, because truthfully, I am too ill to drive.
    “What?”
    “How much was his life worth?”
    “Forty grand.”
    Fuck. That’ s what I make a year. Of course, I don’t kill people.
    “Don’t you feel guilty?” I ask.
    “Why? You saw it. He would have done the same to me if he had to.”
    Although he’s right and I suppose I’m glad it was Mike and not Lucas, I feel like I am going to throw up. I just watched a guy die.
    “Are you still high? Don’t you hurt?”
    “Not yet,” Lucas says and I shrug, turning on the car and bringing him home. I want him in bed when he does start to feel the pain.
    ****
    I call out again and feel thankful I’ve been fairly healthy in my few years teaching so I have a pretty hefty sick bank. It’s midmorning when Lucas wakes, screaming in agony. I bring him Tylenol, but it’s nowhere near strong enough. I hate myself, but I go to his phone and look through his contacts for Tim’s number. He picks up almost immediately.
    “You’re alive?”
    “It’s Savannah,” I tell him.
    “Who?”
    “Miss Lawlor.”
    “Oh, hey, baby.”
    “Not now,” I reply. “Lucas is a mess. I need something strong. He’s taken a ton of Tylenol but it isn’t helping.”
    “It’ll cost ya.”
    “Really?” Fucking asshole. “It was your fight.”
    “ So? I have to buy the shit.”
    “Whatever,” I grumble. There goes my fucking bank account. “Just get it here fast. And bring that fucking video.”
    “You want a souvenir?” He taunts.
    “Fuck yourself,” I say and hang up.
    Lucas is in tears and I hope Tim fucking hurries. I can’t believe I’m buying drugs for him, but he can’t handle withdrawal and excruciating pain at the same time. I rationalize it, but I know it’s still fucked up. I guess this is the shit I signed up for with this kid.
    I sit in my bed and bring him a trash can so he can vomit repeatedly. I don’t know if it’s from the pain, the half bottle of Tylenol, or withdrawal, but Lucas has a shit ton of puke and I am on my third dumping run when Tim finally shows up. I don’t ask questions, simply lead him to my room, and close the door with the two of them in there. I’m not sure what Lucas will get, and I definitely don’t know nor do I want to know how he gets the drugs into his system. Instead, I do the dishes because it’s a distraction. There aren’t that many but I’m meticulous and I’m wrapping up the load when Tim comes out in half an hour.
    “How is he?” I ask.
    “Sleeping now. Look, I left some things. He may need to take them.”
    “Yeah, whatever,” I say.
    “And the video is on the dresser.”
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem.”
    He leaves and I dry my hands and go back to Lucas. He’s sleeping, but he isn’t restless, and I slide into bed next to him, draping his arm over me. I don’t even think, but I reach behind me and start stroking his cock. I know he’s out of it, so I don’t expect to happen, but suddenly he’s hard and he’s pushing against me and his hands are sliding my panties down. I’m only wearing a long t-shirt and I lift it over my hand while Lucas rubs between my legs.
    “Baby,” he cries and I can’t imagine how he is physically okay