Chapter 1: Night Comes Down
"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end. We all get addicted to something that takes away the pain."
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I was being followed. That much I was sure of.
I quickened my pace to a jog, trying to take deep breaths. I would be fine. Nothing bad would happen to me. Nothing.
Calm was the only word on my mind. It became my mantra, tumbling around in my mind until I was sick of it. I would be there soon. Once I found him, I'd be safe.
I slowed down a little, ducking into a dark alley. The old, tall buildings had an eerie feel to it, making the atmosphere ominous. Tilting my head up, I saw row upon row of windows, all blacked out or broken. I had a few friends that stayed in there, shutting themselves off from the rest of this fucked up world.
Everything was starting to make me feel nervous, knowing I'd have nowhere to go if someone really was following me. They could easily kidnap me, shove me into one of those old, dusty rooms that were falling apart. I would never be heard from again. Not that anyone cared at this point. I had no friends or family. They all left years ago, abandoning the junkie trying to hide from her past.
Towards the end of the alley I caught a glimpse of a black figure. My pulse raced, jonesing for something, anything to make it all go away.
I ran smack into my dealer, falling on my ass in the process. "That much of a rush of to get your precious drugs?" he sneered.
"Fuck off. I brought the money, give me what I need," I demanded. I stood up, wiping my hands on my thighs. Dirt smeared across my black yoga pants. If he even saw me so much as sweat he'd threaten to leave.
Pulling out my wallet from my pink sweatshirt, I handed over a big wad of cash, not even thinking twice about the thousands of dollars I didn't have. I would sacrifice anything for the drugs.
Although I had a job that paid well, the drugs prevented me from being able to pay groceries for the week and all the bills piled up on my desk. I didn't care as long as the pain went away. My memories would be the death of me someday. At least the cocaine did what I wanted it to, even though the psychosis I experienced minutes after I took it left me paranoid and delusional.
"I want to try heroin," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "Doesn't Tony deal it?"
"He does," he mumbled, taking the money out of my cold hands. "But I don't think you'd like it."
"Says who?"
"Says the only person you know that's been on it."
I shrugged, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. "Maybe I want it. I've heard it does a pretty damn good job at making you-"
"I don't think you fully comprehend what heroin does to you Lex. It's not worth it. Trust me," he gently told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. His hand trailed down my arm, giving me chills. He lifted the sleeve of my right wrist, staring at the recent cuts on my wrist. "You're doing that again?"
