Myocardium

Part 3

Once I've arrived at the bright, red-lit building, I enter through the back and go straight to the locker room, where many of my co-workers are. Jolly comes over and hugs me tightly, she's on drugs and seems as bubbly and happy as ever. Gently, I pat her back and mumble, "Hey there."
After I've been in the shower and have cleaned and prepared myself as per usual, I walk back out, clothes in hand, not wearing any.

I've stopped feeling embarrassment when it comes to being nude a long time ago, it's not like there's another choice anyway. Only rarely and in certain situations, I still feel genuine embarrassment, everything else just makes me feel uncomfortable and disgusted. When walking past her, Crystal stops me and puts a tiny bottle into my hand, smiling compassionately. "You look like you need it, hun." As I feel the bottle between my fingers, I nod and smile back. "Thanks."

After getting dressed and drying my hair, I get out my emergency bag with a few sealed syringes in it. I always make sure to keep them sterile and break them after use. My pastel-blue shorts, white suspenders and stockings make me look extra young and feminine tonight. I wish I could say that the clients aren't into that. Unfortunately, most of them are. Also, the pastel-blue leather choker I strap around my upper arm and tighten until the vein in the crook of my elbow is perfectly visible, matches my shorts perfectly.

After sucking up some of the deep brown, black-ish liquid, I make sure there's no air bubbles and slowly push the needle into my vein, injecting the diamorphine into my bloodstream. It doesn't take long until I let out a relieved sigh, it feels so pleasant how the rush kicks in and makes me feel all numb, high and happy. After I've pulled the needle out of my skin again and put the choker around my neck, I break the syringe in half and dispose of it, letting the poison take over me fully.

"Man, he's flyyyyyyying," Jacky mumbles and I hear nothing but chuckles from the others. That's the worst part of it all. They all watch me, a 19-year-old kid, shoot heroin into his veins without batting an eye. Why? Because for them, this is normal. They've probably done the same or even worse when they were my age. Then again, how much worse can it get from this point on? The medicine in my blood makes me feel good, lets my mind be at peace.

While I'm beginning to feel better and better, I know it'll be a good night, nothing can bring me down. The nights I spend on heroin are usually my better ones, the ones where I feel at least remotely good about myself. The mornings after feel a thousand times worse, though. But this is the sacrifice I'm willing to make, at least tonight. When I've rechecked myself in the mirror, I give my colleagues a satisfied smile and leave the room, filled with euphoria.

Right away, I want to inject more, feel even better, but I need to work first. Tonight, I decide to try myself on the pole once again. Jesse's on stage too. Man, I love Jesse, he's a stunningly handsome trans man and a super, super sweet dude. As I get on the stage, I can feel many pairs of eyes on me while I begin moving my body to the rhythm of the music in the background. With a smile on my face that's caused by the toxin in my system, I'm feeling myself on that pole and do all the moves I'm too insecure to do while sober.

After I've finished my little show, I grab myself a glass of champagne and get noticed by a middle-aged man and a woman next to him, presumably his wife. They call me over to them. "Hey sweety, how're you feeling? You're incredibly good at that," the man speaks up. My high mind tells me that he sounds friendly when really, he's just as sick as everyone else in here. "I'm feeling great, sir. I'm glad you liked my performance." I take a seat between them as they have gestured me to do so.

"What's your name, honey?" the wife asks me, her voice is calm and quiet. "I'm Silver. What about you?", I question them back as I feel the man's hand on my thigh.
"Jeremy and Anne, but for you it's Mr. and Mrs. Anders", he growls into my ear seductively.
"Alright, Mister Anders." I stutter on purpose and place my hand on top of the man's to keep it where I want it to be without making it too obvious that he has let his hand slip too far in the direction of my crotch.