Horror

Boy in mans clothing part 1

Amber makes the most money on Friday nights, which means I score Saturday morning. I can only get through a few hours before I start getting the shakes, so Twigsy always expects me before eleven. The wife gets to sleep and wakes up to a shot first thing. Lucky bitch.

Today was the same as any other Saturday. I checked the bedroom to find the ol' lady laying there, needle still pegged in her arm. Luckily, she didn't leave the tie-off on that time. She'll do that sometimes. Leaves her arm looking blue for a good few hours since her circulation isn't so good anyway. I guess that's what happens when you do a lot of dope and don't eat a whole lot. Amber ain't so good at taking care of herself, but I suppose I ain't either. That's why I've been awake for a week and I'm about to go get horse from some guy who doesn't even trust me enough to give me his real name.

The walk to Twigsy's doesn't take long. We used to have a car and the trip took just about thirty seconds, but it ended up getting impounded by the authorities when I got caught driving on a suspended license. The fees cost more than the damn car was worth so we cut our losses and decided to just start walking to do our daily errands. After all, we were on the low end of the city. No matter what kind of demand there was, there was always going to be a supply. When you're an addict, that's really all that matters.

I knocked on Twigsy's door at the cheap motel up the road. It was called the Brighton or the Bridgeton—one of the two. The letters were so fuckin' cockeyed you really couldn't tell. It didn't matter though. Every dope fiend from here to the Hills knows where Twigsy is and they will until he tells them to forget. Even then, the assholes will still come knocking on his door. That's how it works around here. Low-level dealers like Twigsy come in thinking they're gonna just sell for awhile—just enough to fund their habit. Then they overdose or die of AIDS or hep C or whatever the hell else they might contract from sharing dirty needles. I tried to keep my habit clean, but it's hard when syringes are so hard to come by nowadays.

“What's the password, esé?” Twigsy barked through the door.

I could tell by the urgency in his voice that he'd been twirling the pipe. I could smell the shit billowing out from the windows.

“Yo, Twigs, it's me. Ben.”

“Ben who? Answer the fucking question, asshole!”

“Come on, Twigs. I'm too tired for this shit,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Is the password 'teener', by chance?”

Twigsy cackled like some kind of maniac. God knows how long the bastard had been awake. Ever since he started dealing ice, he'd been using way too much. He'd get himself tired by slamming H all day and then smoke a ton of ice to wake himself back up. I told him that shit was gonna drive him insane, but he never listened to a damn word I said. Mixing dope with crystal intensifies the hallucinations and messes with your heart rate. It's a hell of a rush, but it ain't good for the mind.

“Ding, ding, ding! We got a winner!”

He opened the door with way too much force, grinning at me wildly. It looked like he'd lost a few more teeth since I'd seen him last. He'd definitely lost a fair amount of weight, as his bones were jutting out from beneath his black wife-beater and his pajama pants were sagging at the waist. Being a beefy guy had worked to my advantage when it came to my addiction. Whenever I lost weight, I didn't lose enough to look suspicious or sickly. They'd have to look at my arms for that.

“Close the door behind you,” he barked as he hurried back into the dingy room and plopped onto the disheveled sofa. He clawed at his face and added, “Come on, hurry up!”

After kicking the door shut, I locked it and rubbed my hands together. I could tell he'd been tweaking for awhile, so I just hoped that the dumbass wasn't about to pull a knife on me and take me for all I got. I liked Twigsy because he always knew when to stop. Sure, he had a habit, but he never was as bad as most of these low lives. He didn't hit his girlfriend, he paid his child support, and he took care of his ma. I don't know what happened to him over the course of the last few months, but he was not the guy that I used to know.