The Queen and Her Pawns

Chapter One

"According to the Virginia Department of Health website, there was an average of 4 Virginians dying daily of an opioid overdose in 2020," the reporter's voice hinted at a slight accent, even if she took classes to hide it.

I knew that those numbers sounded better than those of where I used to live. I grew up in Madison Heights, Michigan, and Macomb County had one of the highest death tolls for opioid overdoses in Michigan. My mother was an addict, not of opioids, but of heroin. I remember just watching her tie up her arms, legs, or anywhere she could find a blood vessel and shoot herself up with heroin. The smell was atrocious but would dissipate quickly. My mother always smelled like vinegar. I used to play with the remnants of the burnt heroin. It was like wax; so, I would rub it between my fingers because it felt cool. I would say that having a child around heroin most of her childhood is not okay. My parents didn't see it that way.

Addiction is hard to beat and I know this because both of my parents battled with it. When they ran out of money to buy heroin, which happened often, their withdrawal symptoms took over their personalities. My mother was a good person. She always knew how to make me feel loved and how to make me laugh. My father loved my mother and she loved him. But they kept feeding off of each other's addiction. Eventually, my mother could not handle her addiction any longer.

"Rhia?"

My eyes snapped up to the voice and were greeted by honey-glazed eyes. A warm smile spread across the owner's face and I immediately felt at home.

"Sorry," I shook my head, flustered.

Teeth were freed from the toothless smile as a chuckle was released, "It's okay. I was just asking if you wanted more wine."

I nodded as I showed my own toothless grin. I pushed my glass towards the man and he poured some pink Moscato in it.

"Jason," I glanced up at him and his head perked up, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, baby."

I hesitated. "How would you treat someone with an addiction to, let's say, heroin?"

Jason licked his lips then gently bit his bottom lip. I always loved when he did that. He never fully bit his lower lip, just a gentle placement of the lip underneath the top teeth. That's how I always knew the cogs in that brain of his were working. Jason and I have been dating for over two years now. We met through a dating app. I had just moved to Chesapeake and felt lonesome. I met a couple of friends through the app since it served as a friend-finder and a dating app.

I had moved from East Lansing, Michigan to Chesapeake, Virginia due to my love for the east coast. Also, there was nothing good holding me down in Michigan. Jason is a local and went to Norfolk State University and then moved to Chesapeake. He's always lived in Virginia. I went to Michigan State University and gained a Bachelors in Professional Writing with a minor in Creative Writing. I now make a living out of writing mystery novels. Jason, on the other hand, is a computer engineer that travels to Richmond every week. Since the pandemic started, he's been working from home more often, designing programs from his high-tech computer.

"I would throw an intervention for them."

I blinked. "Then what?"

"Then," he elongated the word, "I would show them that they are loved no matter what and that they are supported throughout their journey through sobriety."

"And if they relapse?" I raised my eyebrows.

"I'll tell them that it's okay. It doesn't make them a bad person."

I was satisfied with how he answered; so, my shoulders shifted and heaved, then relaxed. Jason noticed that I was satisfied and took a seat next to me on the sofa in the living room of my two-bedroom abode. I live in the Western Branch. Jason, being richer than me as well as me being more modest, lives in Hickory. His house is humongous and I told him that when we get married, we're living in a humble home.

Jason placed his arm around my shoulders "Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I was curious."

"Mhm," Jason's nose touched mine as we stared into each other's eyes.

"I just wanted to know what you thought," I whispered before placing my lips on his.

Jason kissed back but slipped his tongue through my lips and caressed my tongue with his. I couldn't help but allow myself to melt into his embrace. We continued to kiss and eventually his fingers found my clit. I gasped as his fingers circled it. Jason then lightly pushed me down onto the sofa and got on top of me. He removed his hand but replaced it with his boner.

I never used to enjoy sex. It was hard to do so with PTSD from sexual abuse. With Jason, everything was different. I truly loved Jason enough to allow him inside of me. I loved him enough to let him cum inside of me. It doesn't get better than that.