La Douleur Exquise

Sanctuary

Boundless.

            Whenever everything else seemed so breakable and trapped, I turn to liquor. And it’s only then, when I’m deeply immersed within the sinful drink, do I feel strong, free, infinite, and just…boundless.

This night is just one of those nights. I am high off of drug, beer, pain and hate.

Drug. Mark, the dealer from 6th avenue gave me my daily dose this time. I came to his lair simply because all the other  dealers refuse to give me more unless I pay my debt. But I don’t have money, so I have to go to the most expensive drug seller in the neighborhood. Only Mark will be willing to lend me now.

Beer. With the little money that I got, I can only afford three beers from the club. But that’s okay, the three bottles of booze and two shots of H can get me through this night. As for tomorrow, I will worry when it comes. What’s important is this, and the long dream I will have later.

Pain. Earlier this day, I came home reeking of smoke and liquor. I never would have gone home if it weren’t for my immense need for money. I tumble over the chair, and I think that wakes my father up. Heavy footsteps echo on the stairs above me. The footsteps sounds like a Gatling gun is beside me, continuously firing bullets. Seconds later, the light comes on. And I deliberately fall face first on the carpeted floor, my eyes shut tight. The light hurts. The sound hurts. I feel my father in the room, glaring down at me. He lifts me off the floor with one of his massive arms. With the other, he slaps me hard. He does that again for a couple of times and I think I let out some kind of a guttural sound as I taste blood on my mouth. My eyes are still closed. My father lets go of me and I fall right back on the floor. He then kicks me and my teeth grinded with each other until I had no choice but to cough up blood. For a moment, I thought he left, but then his hand yanks mine and drags me outside. It feels like my limb is going to be ripped out of my torso. He throws me to the bush, and the branches cut through my skin like it was paper. I lie there for awhile, and then crawl my way to the driveway. It’d be nice if a car plows over me right now. That’d be nice. So I could finally stop hurting. Because everything is so fcking painful it’s a miracle I’m still alive. 

            Hate. After the fruitless search of money from my house, I tried to get up from all the beating. The sky is still dark, but it has got to be past 4 am now. I have enough energy to go to my car and drive away. Maybe I should just sell this car. I hate it anyway. I hate everything anyway.

            The three small packets of powder were clutched inside my palms. Sweat has dampened it but I refuse to let it go. I have this notion that they’ll fly if they will just be given the escape route. Two beer bottles are safely tucked behind my jacket and one is in my mouth, already half empty. I know I should have waited until I got to the lounge before I start but the temptation was too much to resist. I stop the car, and sneer at the abandoned building where I stopped. In my eyes, the grimy windows and cracked walls was heaven. Quiet and secluded, this is the junkie’s version of paradise. After all, I heard from some religious person that I don’t belong to heaven. That’s okay, I don’t aim for heaven. I don’t know if I even believe in it. With a world this ugly? The idea of having a pristine refuge is impossible to trust.

            I limp my way inside. A couple of people is already here, doing their magic. They’re slumped on a corner, a wisp of smoke rising from the general place where they are. I lay at a lump of dirty, stinking cloth. And smile. I smile at the anticipation of the comfort to come. I smile at the escape path I will pave myself in just a couple of minutes. I smile.

            Digging at my pocket, I fish for the syringe, a box of match, a candle, a spoon and a vial of liquid. I sprinkle the contents of one packet and five drops of liquid in the spoon and let it react over the lighted candle. I watch for a little while the mixture boils. Then I get the syringe, sucking the concoction inside the tube. I lie back down again, waiting for it to cool. I learned the hard way that hot heroine inside your veins will not get you anywhere and will only waste the precious crystal.