The Drug

Copyright ©2026 Jessica T McCullough

All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other - except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

*This story includes mention of challenging life experiences including: suicide, substance abuse, and attempted sexual violence. Please be mindful of these trigger topics before reading.

The Drug

By Jessica T McCullough

Fetal position, the sleeping pose of champions. Brianne chuckled to herself and then winced at the movement. She must’ve been lying there for hours. She usually moved non stop in her sleep, except when she was sloshed. Last night Tracy and Tory had brought over a massive bottle of tequila. Brianne didn’t even like tequila, but that didn’t stop her from drinking more than her share. Tequila was the angry middle child of the ‘anything with a proof’ family, not getting along with any of its siblings. She knew as soon as she stood up she’d be dizzy and sick. Although, from the taste in her mouth she’d already been sick. That and the smell of what must’ve been on her shirt from that event. Gross. Still, the urgent press on her bladder said, risky or not, she needed to get a move on.

Brianne sat up, happy they were in the basement of her mom’s house. No windows and no sunlight equaled just her speed with a hangover. She took in the damage. The half empty pizza boxes were tipped onto the floor from the small coffee table. She eyed the last few mouthfuls of tequila with loathing. Tory and Tracy were stretched out on the couch, feet to head. They were identical twins who fought to look different from each other. Tory had dyed her hair turquoise, while Tracy went grey. Tracy wore glasses with no prescription, sure she looked smarter with them. Despite trying to look different they still finished each other’s sentences and were tied at the hip.

Scott was lying on his back, mouth open and snoring like a lawn mower. Brianne stopped to admire him. His jeans were slung low on his hips, his shirt bunched up showing his lean, cut torso. Scott was gorgeous, for a complete stoner. Brianne had remembered more than one or two happy hookups that ended with him passing out from an edible after they’d screwed. More than once she’d considered asking him to try dating, but she knew it wouldn’t work. He was nursing a lot of shit that he was numbing against. She’d had a brief period of time where she thought she’d be able to help him heal. She’d be the one to help him reach his potential, remind him he didn’t need to be high to get through the day. But she’d made that mistake of trying to fix a guy before. It always ended with her sad and alone because she couldn’t fix anyone. Including herself.

Brianne scrunched the green shag carpet between her toes. When her mom tried to refinish the basement floor with tiles she fought her. That carpet had been her cozy place since they moved here. She’d played on it, cried, on it, screwed on it. Rug burns or not, she wasn’t ready to see it go. Just as she started to step over Scott she saw it, right between the partially eaten pizza crusts and a half drunken bottle of water. Brianne nudged Scott in his ribs with her toes.

“Scott, Scott, wake up.”

Brianne felt a zing go up her spine as Scott’s hand slid up her bare calf. “The twins are here but I’m sure we could be quiet.” His eyes were still closed but the smile on his face was clear on his assumption. She would’ve normally climbed aboard, but Brianne was too curious as to the object on the table.

“No, Scott, look at the table.”

It took a good minute before he managed to sit up and do as she asked. “Am I still high?”

“Tracy, Tory, wake up and get over here.” Brianne sharply called the twins. She wanted to go and shake them into moving faster, but she couldn’t seem to move from where she stood. “Get up you two!”

“What the fuck, Bri. It’s mad early.” Tracy hissed.

“I need you over here. Now.”

Tracy kicked her sister into motion and they both headed over, standing behind Brianne.

“Ok, what’s the big, wait, what the hell is that?” Tory was fully awake now as she stared, her eyes large and bewildered.

Brianne didn’t know what exactly she was looking at. It was a perfect sphere, that much was certain. It was roughly the size of a softball. The surface appeared to be metallic but it didn’t seem to reflect the light of the overhead fluorescent bulb. It also didn’t cast a shadow.

“It’s flawless. Iridescent. Just like that day at the beach.” Scott’s voice was low, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“Day at the beach? You’ve seen something like this before?” Brianne asked, eyes still on the sphere.

“Of course. Where else would you find a nautilus shell?”

“A what?” Tory and Tracy asked in unison.

“That’s a nautilus shell. The last time I saw one was at the beach. I was like nine. My family had rented a summer house down the shore. We’d brought Ray.” Brianne swore his voice cracked at the end of the statement, but she couldn’t be sure.

“I know what a nautilus shell is Scott, but that is not a nautilus shell.” Brianne shook her head and forced herself to blink her drying eyes.

“Agreed.” Tracy said, her incredulity dripping from the word. “That’s a rum mini”

“What? It’s a stop watch, Tray.”

“Were you smoking with Scott last night, Tor? It's a bottle.”

Brianne was confused, but it was background for the questioning still going on in her head.

“Who was Ray?” She asked Scott.

“My cousin. He was 2 years younger. He looked up to me. Wherever I went he was right by my side. My shadow.”

“Sounds sweet.” Tracy said, still staring ahead.

“It was. But at the same time it was a pain in the ass. We were walking the beach when I found it. This nautilus shell. I’d never seen one let alone one in such good condition. I gave it to Ray. He took it with him wherever he went.”

“Ok, I think you had one too many edibles, Scotty. A nautilus shell is massive and that is a tiny little bottle.”

Brianne didn’t know why but she needed Scott to finish his story.

“Tell me about that summer, Scott. Tell me about what happened.”

“I don’t know if I can, Bri.”

“Scott, please.”

He took an audible inhalation and continued. “There was a group of kids there that summer. They were a couple of years older. I thought they were so cool. There was a black, stone jetty. The waves would come in at high tide and slam into it, then completely engulf it. The kids would hang out there till they physically couldn’t anymore. I thought it was the coolest thing. I told Ray that I thought it was cool.”

He just stopped talking. Somehow Brianne managed to reach out and grab his shoulder. She felt him tense under her grip, then his shoulder shagged. When he began to speak again his voice was choking on what sounded like a sob. “High tide was coming in when Ray ran off and onto the jetty. He was in flip flops and the rocks were slick. I was screaming for him to come back when I saw him drop the shell. It shattered on the rock. Then he fell in with the first strong wave and his head hit the stone. He went under. They didn’t make it to him in time. He was 7. He only did it because he wanted to make me proud. He wanted me to think he was cool.

If I had just given him more attention. If I had told him he was awesome and not mentioned those stupid kids. If he hadn’t thought I was worth something.” Scott seemed to be out of steam. He couldn’t manage anymore as he inhaled and continued to sob.

“Tory and I were at a party. This was about a year before you got here, Bri. I drank way too much. No real surprise there. I had a thing for this guy, Josh. He was hot, but he didn’t know I was alive. I wanted him to notice me, but I could barely speak to him. A few drinks in and I was feeling a bit better. Then this random guy handed me a mini. Said he’d been watching me all night and he knew I wanted to talk to Josh. One more in me and I’d be good, he said. So I took it.

Next thing I knew I was practically falling over. I still remember his hands as they unbuttoned my shirt. Thank god Tory was looking for me and about 3 drinks behind. She broke into the room with Scott. He wrestled the camera from his hand and beat the snot out of that creep. Tory helped me vomit up whatever that guy had slipped me. Thank god they were so fast. That shit was going to record himself doing who the fuck knows what to me and probably posting that shit all over. Last party I went to. That’s why I only drink with you guys. Shit. I haven’t talked about that night since it happened. It’s like we all just kind of agreed to let it die.”

Tory spoke through gritted teeth. “If I had been there just 5 minutes sooner, he wouldn’t have even gotten your shirt off. I was too busy flirting with Stan, the poster guy for red flags. I should’ve been with you. You asked me to be your wingman.”

Brianne heard Tracy tell her sister it wasn’t her fault, that she knew better than to drink that much and to take a drink from some random guy. She heard it all as she watched the sphere melt down and change shape.

“Bri. Brianne, what do you see?” Scott’s voice broke through. It was tired but it was no longer cracking.

“None of you were wrong. None of you needed to feel guilty about anything. Scott, you were 9. You were not responsible for another child. You didn’t send Ray onto that jetty. You should not feel this guilt. You don’t need to see that shell. And Tracy, it was that piece of shit who should be ashamed for drugging you, not you for making the mistake of taking that drink. And Tory, you can’t be on the clock 24/7. You love your sister and you did your best. You slipped and lived your individual life and you still came on time to save your sister. You were on time.”

“Brianne, honey, what do you see?” Scott had placed both hands on her shoulders. The twins were now on either side of her. She was surrounded by people who cared. Could she say it?

“I see a bullet.” No sooner than the words left her mouth than her bladder released. She wanted to say it was because she’d waited too long to get to the bathroom, but she knew it wasn’t. It was what happened when she found him. Her mom told her to help bring in the groceries but she didn’t feel like it. She wanted to go and play video games so she ran up ahead. If she’d stopped to help, mom would’ve gone in first.

“What the fuck, Bri. A bullet?” Tory asked as Brianne tried to shake her head and close her eyes, neither of which was happening.

“It’s why we moved here. Why it’s just me and my mom.”

“Brianne, say it. If you say it, the thing goes away.” Tracy urged her on in a soothing voice.

Brianne shuddered. “My dad had always had problems with depression. From as early as I could remember, he was the dad who slept in till one and went a day or two without bathing. He’d smile, but it never reached his eyes. He went to therapy, he had medication, but he didn’t like how it made him feel. So he’d be on it for a few weeks and that’s when I’d see him. The dad who would play with me and go to my softball games. The dad I was determined was real. But then he’d quit the medicine and it would all stop. Even now I don’t know if the dad I wanted was the one that really existed.” She stopped. She had to. She couldn’t say this outloud. They would all hate her, the way she hated herself.

“Bri, we’re not going anywhere.” Scott reminded her. “You heard our pain and you didn’t judge. We won’t judge you.”

Brianne felt the tears roll down her face, hot and shameful. She licked them away, remembering the saltiness. She hadn’t cried over her father in years. She wasn’t sure why. Was she afraid she didn’t deserve to cry? Was she afraid she’d never stop?

“I knew he was off his meds. He’d been really low for a while. Then out of nowhere he was really happy. Okay, maybe not happy. More like, light. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t tell my mom about how he gave me his coin collection, or told me where to find all his paperwork. I found him. He had shot himself in his head. It was quick, the coroner said.

If I had just told my mom when I thought something was up. Maybe she could’ve stopped him. Maybe got him back on his meds.”

Scott grabbed her face. For the first time since this all started, she looked away from the table. She looked Scott in the eyes. He was smiling at her. A sad, small smile that said he understood. It said this was over.

“Let it go, Bri. It wasn’t your fault. We can’t be exonerated if you're not as well.”

With that she looked at him. Since she first saw the object on the table this was the first time she was able to look away. Suddenly she felt Scott’s skin on hers. She felt Tory and Tracy’s hands. She felt her wet pants and smelled her urine. She flushed, utterly embarrassed about wetting herself; ashamed about the confession she just made.

She squished her toes in the rug again, experiencing a very uncomfortable squish in return. “I think it’s time to get those tiles my mom’s been wanting. I just pushed this rug beyond the realm of ‘seen better days’.” Brianne tried to laugh it off, but the tears came anyway.

“I don’t know what the fuck just happened, you guys, but I think I can safely say, I never want to experience that again.”

Scott grabbed his pack of edibles. “I think I’m off these for the time being. That was enough of a trip to turn me off of drugs for a bit.”

“What was that? I mean, we didn’t even see the same thing.” Tory asked, twisting her hands together.

“Is it still there?” Tracy asked Brianne. Her eyes were wide. Brianne wasn’t sure if the emotion behind them was fear or excitement.

“Let’s take a look. Together.” Brianne felt Scott grab her hand and squeeze. Tory grabbed the other, Tracy, holding onto her twin’s arm in a sign of comradery.

“Bri, what do you see?” Scott asked, as deadpan as he could manage.

“A bell.” Sitting in the spot the bullet once sat was a handbell. It reminded her of a bell a teacher might have a hundred years ago, to call in her class. It still held the same metallic color with no shine, and no shadow.

“I see it too.” Scott whispered, leaning in for a closer look.

“Same,” Tory began, “here.” Tracy finished.

“Why a bell? Why show us each something different and then settle on one object none of us have a special meaning for?

Brianne felt a smile creep onto her face. Her realization was the biggest surprise of the morning. And given their morning, that was saying a lot.

“Because once a bell is rung, you can’t unring it.”