Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I'm starting to think you're becoming my cloudless blue sky." "And I think you're just the right amount of toxin I needed."
That night was a reminder of a bliss I've lacked but a blissfulness I found in a person that I didn't think would ever—could ever be mine. But she is mine.
"Where the fuck is it?" Drawers sprung open left to right. A variety of forgotten knickknacks, keys, loose change—anything you could imagine to be hidden in the back of your drawer, now littering the floors of my apartment.
My breath feels heavier with each empty finding, sweat glistening my forehead. Yet, I've done this to myself, as I normally always do.
It's no surprise after the incident with Dusty that I would find myself craving more, needing it even.
Flashback
"That'll be your price boy, paid in 14 lines. Should be proud of yourself," Dusty pats my back, his own high making his position slouch even further into the seat. "Won't keep ya' here any longer."
My mind isn't my own anymore. It was a beast needing to fill its void. Not knowing the limit my body could handle—frankly not even caring. "One more."
One, leads to two, and you know how the rest goes.
"I knew old Phoenix was hidden behind that white lie, Enzo said so himself," Dusty's comments being one's I'll likely never remember. The deepest of secrets can always be shared to those with addiction, whether we're too gone to remember the spoken words, or we have even much deeper secrets that make the others seem like nothing but a familiar.
"Enzo, w-why won't he, he ever stop?" My words are slurred, asking stupid questions my tongue won't let come to a halt.
A belting laugh is echoing next to me, "Ever 'stop' in terms of you? Man, you were the one escape that boy ever had and then ya' left. A boys best friend—a Kings right hand man."
I mumble 'bullshit' under my breath. Should've known, high or not, anything that comes out of Dusty's mouth is nothing but shit.
Staggering up from the crummy couch, I make way for the door and out to the cool air of New York. No plan in sight but no care to give.
Present
"Fuck!" I smack a few books off my dresser once I reached the last of the drawers in the house. I just need a fix, anything.
