Cricket: Ember's Story

Ready When You Are

I've never seen a person fall apart all at once. Adam did it bit by bit over a couple weeks of heavy meth use. Jesse has been slowly unraveling since we were fifteen. West only crumbled halfway when he relapsed and came back to the meetings a few weeks later.

But Gus is his own annihilation.

Things keep going from bad to worse. I feel like I can't leave the house because it might mean I'll never see Gus again. All I do is worry. Seemingly overnight, he has become a full-fledged, out of his mind, paranoid, unpredictable tweaker capable of killing himself or getting arrested, just like Adam.

If he tries to sleep, he has horrible night terrors and screams for hours while Hex and I try to comfort him in vain. He's existing in some kind of horror movie in his head, and there's nothing we can do. It's the worst I-told-you-so in history.

Talking to Gus rationally is out of the question. He's convinced that all of us are conspiring against him and spends his time giving us long, unblinking, suspicious and creepy stares. More than once I find him carrying on a full conversation with the back wall of his room, always quiet and panicked sounding.

Hex and I hide all the cash, his pipe, the drugs if we can find them, and anything else we think will make him stop using. But nothing helps. He goes out alone now to sell himself, then makes the hour long trip to Doc's place to buy more. It's going on day six of the binge. He hasn't slept, showered, changed clothes or eaten this entire time.

"Here's the latest one," Hex says, handing over yet another blackened meth pipe.

I sigh and stuff it in my pocket. Outside, I'll smash it on the concrete like I did with the five others before this one. The problem is that there's an endless supply of these at the gas station down the street. They come with plastic roses inside to make it "legal", but everyone knows you just rip the flower out, stuff the meth in and smoke.

"Did he leave?" I ask tiredly.

"I think he went to sell portraits," Hex says.

"I'll get rid of this on my way to the meeting. Will you keep Jesse distracted until I get back? Just tell him I went panhandling and I'll bring back food and dope."

"Gotcha," Hex says.

I tug my big coat on and step outside into the freezing twilight. I'm fed up enough to do something drastic, and I march across the icy street all the way to the gas station clutching the pipe in my mittened hand. The glass bulb is brown and sticky inside, coated with meth residue, but I'll take the risk of getting arrested. This is too important.

This ghetto gas station is a hub for drug dealers, and I'm offered samples twice just as I'm walking through the parking lot. Adam and Gus used to turn tricks here, get in cars with strange men and put themselves in so much danger, all for this stupid pipe.

"Hey sexy, how much?" a filthy man with broken teeth asks me. I ignore him, but he grabs my arm.

I whirl around. "You picked the wrong one today, motherfucker! Don't try me!"

He barks out a stinky, spitty laugh in my face. "Oh yeah? How 'bout you and I-"

Before he can say another word I shove my knee up into his crotch.

"BITCH!" the man shouts, doubling over in pain.

"I said I'm not the one! Not my fault you have the brain of a roach," I snap and continue marching forward even though I'm scared to death that he's coming after me.

A bunch of people who have been standing around start laughing and whistling at my karate skills, and when I turn around again the guy makes a V sign with his fingers and wiggles his disgusting tongue through. I flip him off.