Setting the needle dow on the ebony wood side table I sighed, taking a few deep breaths. The tip of the needle was stained red with my blood. Now, looking down at my arm, I counted the red dots that strayed in lines where my veins were. I didn't get past the fourth dot counting when I began feeling lightheaded and almost queasy. The heroin didn't take long to kick in.
I groaned, looking at the needle that sat on top of my copy of Peter Pan. I leaned over the hotel bed and picked it up. If only J.M. Barrie's story had not been fake. If only there was such thing as Peter Pan. A Peter Pan that could take me away from my life and off to Neverland. I sighed setting down the book. I could barley concentrate with the drugs filling the every pore of my body, so it felt.
I glanced around the hotel room. At only twenty four years old, I felt as though my world was falling apart. I rented out the hotel room on an impulse. It was no secret that I had the drugs in my bag either. It had only taken me only a few weeks before I was hooked on the addicting drug. It made me feel so unstoppable, so untouchable.
My eyes snapped to the sliding glass door that lead out to the hotel balcony. So unstoppable, so untouchable. I looked down at my book once again. Oh Peter; take me away from this place. I thought silently. Come to my window and carry me away. Far away from this place. Far far away.
I stood from bed and opened the glass doors. A large gust of wind shot at my face, cool and sharp. I breathed deeply and walked to the edge of the balcony, looking over the railing. Using one of the balcony chairs, I climbed onto the railing, now looking up at the star lit sky.
"I'll meet you half way there Peter Pan," I said quietly.
I spread out my arms and leaned forwards. The wind suddenly came faster, yanking my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes and smiled. I was finally flying.
Breathing deeply, I was no longer smelling the fresh paint, the chlorine from the pool, or the window cleaner. No, I was smelling wild flowers, the green salty ocean and thousands of adventures that were waiting for me. I thought of my Peter Pan, of the Neverland I was going to go to. I thought of Captain James Hook; the heartless, mangy pirate that would stop at nothing for his revenge on Peter. I thought of the Lost Boys, young, youthful, wild and imaginative beyond anyones wildest dream. And of course Tinkerbell; the small jealous pixie.
Perhaps it was the heroin talking. But for once, in what seemed in like a very long time, I felt free. Nothing could touch me, nothing could stop me. But s as soon as I leapt, it ended. All to fast. My few seconds of flight stopped, with nothing but momentary darkness afterwards.
And then there he was. Peter Pan with his wild, teasing eyes, messy hair, white pearls that gnashed gayly at me. He held out his hand invitingly saying, "I will teach you to jump on the winds back and away we go."
And so, with my eyes brimmed with tears, I took hold of his hand.
