"The bar was abnormally empty that night, I'd never expect to run into him. The man who'd change my life forever."
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tw: mentions of, yelling, slurs, kissing, anger, crying, strong topics, drugs, alcohol, emotional abuse and underage drinking, menti...
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HIM, JUST HIM chapter one — 2019
AN ADDICT
— He loved the addiction. The thrill, the excitement of almost dying but not exactly. You're washed with a wave of adrenaline, your body swallowing it whole. Taking it all day by day, or night by night. Squealing at the top of your lungs for the crowd. Buying coke, buying needles, buying pills.
This was his life. He'd never be able to change that, not because he couldn't try, but simply because he didn't want to. He was a man whore, a disgrace, a piece of trash laying around to be picked up by another prostitute, by another creep.
He'd bounce from person to person, never feeling a thing, simply just a body to be used by the disgraced. Who was he to judge? He was no better. He'd been a failure. Ever since he dropped out of college, his life was nothing, absolutely empty. Nothing but a dull hole, that could only be filled by alcohol and drugs.
How had he become this awful person, this beast, hungry for addiction? His ache and discomfort was his closure, it was his ease. So far gone that his despair was all he knew, and all he oversaw. Starving for more and more. He gave all himself just for a couple of grams of coke. For a couple of ounces of vodka. Relinquishing this addiction only brought him delight.
Laughter and foolery were all he comprehended, bottle after bottle, needle after needle, blunt after blunt. All he understood was this chaos, this catastrophe.
This toxin devoured him entirely.
He drove and plowed through people, stumbling through the tremendous crowd. His ears were ringing, tourniquet yet enveloped around his arm after the latest heroin injection, his sleeves rolled up, white shirt blotched with drinks and blood. Wrists bleeding, blood trickling falling onto the ground.
He held a glass of whiskey, drinking it slowly as he smothered through the crowd, the pain non-existent in his body. Not a single thought or image or sound, just pure numb silence, unbearable ringing consuming his mind.
He collapsed onto a couch, looking up wearily as people walked by, their eyes darting towards him rather than away. Ignoring him treating him like a ghost. His hands trembled as he reached to drink even more, smiling wearily as the high and tipsiness consumed his body, his soul. His existence.
He knew he was vain. Helpless, and he loved every fucking second of it. Look at me now Dad, he thought. His dad's words echoed in the back of his mind.
His mind was poisoned and spiked with venom from the deadliest snake, overtaking him and his actions. Every decision with an even worse outcome, but god he fucking loved it.
