Thursday, October 6, 2016

The Addicted - chapter1

Like once again being in the womb, I feel absolute warmth, security, and at ease. No fears, anxieties, pressures, or pains. I smile in the fetal position sucking my thumb as I prepare to embrace the warm rush of liquid gold slowly slithering through my ice-cold veins. It’s been thirty-six hours since I’ve pushed off, and the realization that I’ve found my fix impedes my negative, obsessive thoughts. I managed to score by ripping off my former best friend. I’ve lived on the streets for the last six years, in and out of prison, and in and out of detox to no avail. It’s become sustenance for me. I don’t need water, I don’t need food, and I don’t need shelter. I just need to feel…to de-thaw my frozen numb body and mind.
I went to his house as a last resort with the full intention of getting off. I knew he knew what I wanted, and I knew that he didn’t want me to be there, but I didn’t care. I knocked on his door at two in the morning. Well… I guess I should say that I knocked on his mother’s door at two in the morning. She loved her little Billy, and even though he was a scrub, a druggy, and a useless piece of shit, she would never do anything but protect him from the world and help him however she could.

I started by knocking vociferously and incessantly on the large wooden door. I stared up at the window from the street waiting for the light to come on.

No dice.

I need his attention now; I can’t stand it any longer!

I start kicking the door as hard as I can repeatedly. I feel the pain first in my toes and then in my foot as the bones crush together against the solid door, but I don’t care. The only thing that I care about is Billy getting his ass downstairs and hooking me up. I see a light turn on and Billy’s distinct silhouette form on the back wall of his room.

His ears resemble a real life version of Dumbo.

A moment of relief fills my body with hope. I back up from the door and erratically wave at him, jumping up and down and yelling “HEY MAN, GOOD TO SEE YOU, COME ON DOWN!” Billy opens the window and does his best attempt at a yelling whisper “shut the fuck up, it’s two in the morning you crazy fuck! I’ll be down in a sec.”

I wait impatiently for the next minute and thirty seconds. Billy opens the door and looks at me with fear.

I notice he has a bat in his left hand.
“I told you not to come back here after last time”.

I completely disregard his statement.
“I need a score man, just a little bit, times are hard, I’ll get it back to you, I promise.” He extends the bat to my chest and gently pushes me back down the steps into the light from the streetlamp overhead.

“You look horrible”, he says.

I look at him with wide eyes and say: “are you going to invite me in or what?” He looks at me scared like a puppy with its tail between its legs. His eyes are glazed over with fear, and I laugh internally that he thinks he has a choice.

“Man I told you not to come back here! You stole all my moms’ pills, you stole my laptop, and you even took the fucking watch my Grandma gave me, you know how much that meant to me!”
I take two slow steps forward back into the darkness and lower my head, looking at the cement doorstep that has an intersecting crack in it that looks kind of like a swastika.

“Billy… that’s the past, get over it. I need you now more than ever. I don’t want this to be worse than it has to be.”
Billy looks at me with trepidation, quickly takes a step back and attempts to slam the door closed. I jump forward and stick my already sore left foot in the door instinctually. I feel the bones crush in my foot from the heavy door, but force myself to ignore it, as I am now in survival mode and can’t be bothered with such a trivial thing.

I need my fix, and I need it now.

I explode into the old wooden door with all one hundred and forty-three pounds of my six foot two frame. It breaks off the hinge and I smash right into Billy. He quickly pushes me off and moves toward the bat that has rolled down the hallway after our collision. I jump back up and tackle him hard from behind. I then drop two hard knees to the back of his neck relentlessly.

I go and retrieve the bat.

Billy looks to be unconscious but I’m not entirely sure. I timidly step over him, bat in hand. As I turn towards the stairs he grabs my leg, and without any hesitation I use all of my strength and bash his head into the floor with the bat three times. The force of the multiple blows fractures his skull and I can see blood begin to spill out onto the floor into a thick crimson puddle. Parts of his brains are peeking through the palpable crack in his cranium like a little prairie dog.

I drop the bat in shock of what I’ve just done in my desperate state. I’ve done some bad things, but I’ve never killed anyone.

I reflexively turn towards the stairs I need to climb to get to Billy’s room and stop in my tracks when I see a mirror reflecting my image back to me. At first I’m startled, as what I see doesn’t even look like me. My clothes are dirty and ragged, my face is gaunt and emaciated, and you can see the disgustingly infected pussing holes in my arms from the repeated penetration of not-so-clean medical instruments. I look like another person. It must be two years since the last time I looked in a mirror. I stare at the cold, empty gaze in my eyes, and the splatter of Billy’s blood on my face....

To be continued...

No comments: