Tweaker

xii. an overdose

xii. an overdose 

     "BENJI?"

     He didn't move; not even a twitch.  After awhile of shaking him, Preston knelt down and held him close in his arms, trying to find a pulse.  It broke my heart to see him so upset and I watched, with tears rolling down my cheeks, just knowing he wasn't going to be okay.  

     I'd seen it so many times in the past.  One of my close friends overdosed; I knew that's what it was right away.  He'd been out of it so much lately, I knew he was on a comedown.  I'd recognized all the signs . . . and it dawned on me that I hadn't really seen him around much.  He had told Preston he was going to support group meetings, looking for rehab centers that might take him in if they had an extra bed open and doctor's appointments, and though I questioned it on my own, in secrecy, I never said anything to him or anyone else about my suspicions.  I thought he might just snap out of it and come crawling back to Pres, like he had so many times before, but I guess I was wrong -- as usual. 

     Right about now, I was regretting keeping my mouth shut about that.

     "Call an ambulance . . .  Please, call someone," he whispered, his voice cracking so much, I could hardly even make the words out.

     We didn't move and then he screamed out, "Call a fucking ambulance!  He's not breathing, goddamit!  Greyson!"

     I don't know why he'd called out for me, or maybe he'd called out for Finn after that, but I wasn't sure.  Hearing my name in this situation made it so surreal; I hadn't expected to be on this end of an overdose.  I didn't think I'd be the one getting yelled at to call for help, because I expected needing help myself.  Nothing seemed real at that point . . . and I knew that would make all of this worse in the long run, because I was pretty good at denial and I didn't want to deal with this, again.  I didn't want to lose someone else to meth, especially this kid.  He was just too young . . .   We were all too young. 

     Finn was the first to react; I was just frozen in place.  Something in me was screaming for my legs to move, but my body wouldn't respond.  It was almost as if time stopped for a moment and I realized exactly how serious this was all becoming . . . but I still couldn't make myself move.  Everything around me was silent, almost as if it all died when Benji's heart stopped, and though Preston was screaming at me, his lips were barely moving and I couldn't hear a damn thing around me. 

     After the paramedics arrived, everything went unbelievably fast.  They rushed Benji out, with Preston in the back of the ambulance with them.  Finn answered all the questions that were asked of us, lying about his own drug use in the process.  I didn't protest; he said we had no idea what happened -- though we did -- and that we didn't know a thing about his substance abuse -- though we knew everything about it, including when it started and when it was supposed to end.  Finn said I was in shock from finding him sleeping and not moving, despite the screaming, and though that wasn't a complete lie, I was mostly in shock because I'd known he was using, again, but I choose to be blind to it all and stay quiet. 

     I guess I was mostly in shock with myself, more than Benji.  Seeing it coming wasn't hard, but seeing the effects I didn't expect to happen to him was. 

     They were gone not long after they'd gotten there. 

     Finn and I headed to the porch, sitting down against my house as we each lit up a cigarette.  I didn't want to believe it; it was so hard to comprehend.  We began praying with all our hearts that Benji would be okay, but we knew it wasn't likely.

     "I guess we wait . . . "  Finn whispered, looking out at the road as cars drove by and slowed down to pull into different driveways or turn onto another street.  I didn't say anything back; I didn't even nod.  I couldn't; I was still too scared for Benji.