A Single Stroke ✔️

50: Numb

I wandered the dark streets slowly. My body was hot and light. Those shots were stronger than I thought.

For a Friday night, the streets were empty. It was probably close to three in the morning. My phone was almost dead. But I didn't have anyone to call anyway.

I was over it. Nothing I did worked. Not basketball, not working out, not working, not staying for basketball practices after school to stay as far from my dad as possible. I was at a loss. I lost everything. Ha, I was a loss; a lost cause.

I wanted to go numb.

I still had the drugs in my backpack. Those weighed probably the heaviest. If I wanted to go numb, I needed to choose the hardest-hitting one.

The heroin. I told myself I'd never try it, even though I bought it, but I just wanted it all to go away. I wished I were never a part of the world.

I continued wandering in the opposite direction of my house, of the school. My mind told me it didn't know where I was going, but my feet did. Naturally. I remembered the path perfectly.

I found a spot in the Pepperidge Park. Our park. Mine and Azaleah's. Only she wasn't welcome anymore, ever again. But all the feelings from before...they returned. All the secrets I had left in my origami spilled out somehow. I imagined someone cutting the yarn of the origami cranes and unfolding every paper until all the secrets flew out.

My origami bird wouldn't fly into the same window anymore. The world had shredded it apart and the words inside were lost. Maybe it was better that way.

I wanted my last memory of the park to be me falling into a deep, dark hole and letting go of my grip of the world.

With my backpack in tow, I strayed off the sidewalk and into the un-mowed grass, hopped over a few loose roots in the ground, and found my way back to the bridge I once wanted to paint and add color to.

Instead of crossing it, I stared down at the water that was once ice. Today, it was empty.

I climbed down the embankment towards the water. Last time I'd been here I fell through ice. This time, I was willingly bringing myself to the deepest parts.

Once I reached the bottom, I shook my backpack from my shoulders, sat against the wall, and slid down. With my knees up, I put my backpack between my legs and started rummaging for my escape.

My hands found a bottle. Of beer? I pulled it out and studied it. Oh. Yeah. My memory was hazy, but I remembered grabbing it off the floor before I left the house. I wanted it, but only to take from Allen. I wouldn't let alcohol control me, even though I wanted it to earlier in the night. It still lingered in my system. Sure I might've had a different plan for the hallucinogenic, but alcohol was a crutch, an excuse. Drugs were a total escape to freedom.

I threw the beer bottle as hard as I could to the wall beneath the bridge opposite of me. The glass shattered with a sound almost as sharp as the glass itself.

Good. I was officially going down the rabbit hole.

I pulled one of my old paint boxes that used to hold paintbrushes from my backpack. Ran my fingertips over the blue case. When I opened it, I studied the needle and bag of white powder inside.

The heroin.

I took the needle and bag of powder out. Studied them in my hands.

This was the drug I was always the most hesitant to try. It wasn't even that big of a deal; how many shows had I seen involving people who used it? Still, my heart sped up at the sight of it. I told myself I'd never try heroin even though Ellie sold it to me. When she offered the bag to me for a small price, I bought it just so I wouldn't look so pathetic. But was I really going to try it?