Lure of the Monster

Nothing Makes Sense

Chris turned down a series of dirt roads before he turned into a pothole-filled driveway that led to what looked like someone's hunting shack. Chris parked the car behind a rusted truck that didn't look like it'd moved in over ten years. I climbed out of the car and followed him to the front door.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and glanced around before the door opened. A large man stood in front of us, a joint dangling from his lips. There were people in the house behind him, either talking or sprawled out staring at the ceiling.

"This your boy?" the man asked, drawing my attention back to him.

Chris nodded, slapping me on the back. "Yeah, this is my boy."

The man gave me a once over. "Looks a little clean to be hanging out with you."

Chris laughed, pushing his way into the house. "Yeah, well, I promise that he's not."

I started to follow Chris into the house, but the man clamped his large hand on my shoulder. I looked at his hand and then up at him.

"You here to have fun?" he asked in a low voice.

I swallowed the bile raising in my mouth as I interpreted what his words meant. "Yes, sir."

He looked at me for a moment later before he released me and gave me a shove into the house, closing the door.

Chris had already made himself at home on the couch, a beer in hand as he took a hit from the bong they were passing around. I clumsily grasped the beer that was shoved into my hand. It was then that I realized that maybe I wasn't meant to be there after all. It was one thing to toss back a few pills, smoke a joint, or down a bottle of liquor. These guys...they had some serious shit going on. There were needles and white packets lying on the counters. Weed being weighed and packed.

A hand touched my arm and I turned, taking a long drink of the beer, to see a boy standing there. No, not a boy. He looked a little older than me.

"You with Chris?" he asked, taking a drink from his own beer, his sleeve falling down to reveal an arm covered with tattoos. I managed to nod, turning away from him. "He said that you were in need of something to relax you."

"Yeah, he said that he had a guy that could get me something good," I muttered.

"Come on. I'm that man," the boy replied, backing away and heading down the small hallway.

I glanced over at Chris, who raised his beer at me and winked before he went back to the bong. I gave him a look. Not only was he my dealer, but apparently he was taking it upon himself to play matchmaker.

I turned and reluctantly followed the boy down the hallway to a small bedroom. The boy shut the door and walked over to the bed, kneeling down and pulling a box out from under it. I set my beer on the dresser, leaning against the wall as I watched the boy pull out a needle and white packet. He set them on the end table before he took out a spoon, needle, and a tourniquet.

He glanced back at me. "Sometimes it's hard to get a vein."

I nodded like I knew that. Like I used hard-core drugs all the time. The boy set those things beside the needle and white packet before he came back over to me, stopping just far enough away for our chests to not touch.

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. "I'm Chance, by the way. I'm sure Chris didn't think to tell you who or what he was planning. He can be a little forgetful sometimes."

"Just a little?" I asked, arching an eyebrow, my heart pounding in my chest.

The boy nodded, running his hand up my chest. "Why don't you just take off your coat? You're way too tense to shoot up right now."