Treasure [h.s]

| 41 - Munchies |

If you had told me three days ago that my wife would kill my ex-booty-call while she was high on some lab-created dissociative drug, I would have probably answered with a huh.

Now, if you followed that up by telling me the mad woman wouldn't remember any of it the next morning, I would have said great.

It was great, until my phone rang for the tenth time, the same person calling over and over again to update me on a situation that, quite frankly, I couldn't give less of a shit about. Brinna killed Magnolia. Brinna doesn't remember doing it, or even the entire ten-hour span that she was drugged the fuck up. Sounds like nothing but a win to me.

It was a win until the incessant nagging of one dark-haired, nervous fuck almost made me cave. I know the stipulations of what had happened. I knew what they were when I dragged Magnolia down there myself the first time.

We have rules. No one innocent dies. Innocent seems to have a very loose definition lately when it comes to the decisions being made in my club. I, for one, see no issue in the way my beautiful wife decided to handle her business. She has no idea what happened, therefore I get to be her voice of reason. She did nothing I wouldn't do.

Zayn, on the other hand, has his panties so far in a twist that I'm afraid if he keeps panicking any longer, his nuts are going to shrivel up and die. According to him, Brinna did nothing close to self-defense.

I agree with him.

There was no room for self-defense because the second the drug hit her system, there was no fighting off the monster running in her veins. It was something I hadn't seen in a long time, not since I was a young teenager just starting out with Lillith.

The drug guys are pretty consistent with their product. They stick to what people like, and it works. Where there is a demand, they are the supply. They use only premium grade shit, partly because of the lack of bad reactions thus less police activity for overdoses and malfunctions.

Every once in a blue moon though, they get bored. They get bored making meth and come up with the next zombie creating concoction of bad ideas and hallucinogen induced crime. It happens every time and the outcome is always the same.

They start small, with only a few clients who test the drug and if the reactions aren't horrible, they sell it for real. Except this time, the effects of the mix really fucked with people.

If I'm going to be honest, ripping out a tongue and sewing lips closed was the tamest reaction that had been seen with the drug. She had a tame reaction. A murderously tame reaction. It really, really could have been worse. People are having full-blown rampages on this shit.

We know for sure that the pill had coke and LSD, but what we don't know is why exactly the two of those together are turning people into nearly immortal. They're not immortal, nor is it actually making people turn into zombies. It's just blocking every pain and logic preceptor in their coked-up brains.