Confessions of a Z Addict
Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Repo: The Genetic Opera.
"First hits free"
The second one wasn't.
Neither was the third.
Or forth.
And so it continued. All it takes is that one terrible day where everything seems to be crashing around you. All it takes is some charming stranger with a "free" pick-me-up. That's all there is to it.
My name is Zella. "Z" to most,
ironically enough and I've been on Zydrate for… a while. I can't
remember the exact date but I'd say about fiveish months. Honestly,
I don't even remember why I took the guys offer. All I remember was
I was so fucking mad about something I don't even remember and he
offered to help.
We call him Graverobber. It's his name and
title, and it suits him. I've tried getting a real name out of him
a few times, but all I got was a raised eyebrow. He supplies most of
my Z which is naturally the most expensive, but it's also the best
fucking thing you will ever encounter. And the worst. His is 100%
pure and none of that fake shit other guys have. The buzz can last
almost two entire days, but it's the third day that really sucks.
After all, every high has an even worse low and I can't even begin
to tell you how shitty I've been feeling after two weeks without. I
keep my hands stuffed in my pockets to hide my shaking hands as I
wander through the ally way looking for the familiar dumpster.
"Graves? You there?"
"No."
"Graves, I can see you." He was sleeping on top of a pile of
newspapers and magazines, his arms folded across his chest and his
multicolored hair covering part of his face. He opened an eye and saw
it was me. Throughout our encounters, we've become somewhat
friends. He's a bit of a perv but he is funny and we get along
nicely. He sighed frustrated and sat up.
"To what do I owe this
pleasure?"
"I sense sarcasm, Grave-y"
"From me? Not at
all. And stop calling me that." I smiled at how easy it was to
annoy him.
"Sorry, Grave-y." he grumbled something I'm sure
wasn't polite.
"So, whatddya want?"
"Well it's been
two weeks since I've had any Z…"
"….And you need a
fix…"
"And I was wondering if…"
" I had any."
"Bingo. So… do you have
any?"
"No. I gave up dealing and became a banker."
"Aren't
you a riot? Anyway, can I get some?"
"How much you got?"
Shit!!! How do I tell him I don't have any more money?! He'd usually give me some cheaper but I got nothing. Apparently the look on my face told him enough. He took out a vile of Z and looked at it tauntingly.
"Nothing, eh? Well I'm sorry, but I can't just hand this stuff out." He said waving it in front of my face. I reached out to grab it, but was too slow. He smirked at my attempt, but his smile turned to something resembling concern when he noticed how hard my hands were shaking.
"Zella, you okay?"
"Don't
get soft on me, Graves, I'm fine. Just a bit shaky. It's…cold
out." He took my hand in his to see how hard I was really shaking.
I pulled it away immediately, embarrassed. Not only because I hated
feeling so… weak, but because—let's face it-- the man is sexy.
Significantly creepy, but sexy at the same time. His light blue eyes
sparkled, his face was handsome and mysterious and he rocked long
multi-colored hair.
"Never mind, I'll just get going." I said and began to walk away.
"Zella…" he called, jumping out of the dumpster with surprising grace. I turned around to face him as he walked toward me. He put his hand on my cheek and kissed me. And not a sweet little soft one. His other arm moved down my back and his hand grabbed my ass, followed by his other arm, following suit. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist, then grabbed his ass too. Our tongues danced and teased with each other and I heard him moan lowly. He broke the kiss too soon.
"There's more ways to pay than in dough." He whispered into my ear
