My body is convulsing I need my next fix. My body craves for it and my mind chokes at the thought. I know I'm fucked up, but I can't help it. My body needs it. Must have it. A small tune plays in the background as I inject the syringe into my already punctured skin. A vain, I cant find it, I start to panic. If I don't have it soon I will go mad. My hands are clumsy as they try to squeeze my arms, irritation swells inside me. Screaming out I chuck the needle at wall and then pathetically I whimper delusional apologies. I awkwardly get up my body trembling and shaking a light cover of sweat wrapped around my body like a second layer of skin. I kiss the spiny needle and take notice of my grimy hands. Black soot covers them and I immediately feel thick disgust at my current state, how did I reach this point? What drove me to it? I can't remember. The tune is back and stronger, a slight melody that clams my twitching body and places me in a dream like state.
"Well I could sleep forever"
A voice that is slightly scratchy in a comforting way washes over me. I am laying down now. I have had a small victory in this never-ending war. The drugs have not overpowered me and I am slightly grateful but desperate at the same time. Dual emotions inside a body, no, my body, I must acknowledge what I have become. It's important. I lift my eyelids heavily and look up the cracked and caving ceiling my hands at my sides, my body, immobile. My greasy hair creates a halo around my gaunt face. I must resemble a living corpse. I think because I haven't eaten in days. My stomach aches just thinking about it. I wasted my last spare change on this last fix, and I won't be able to use it tomorrow.
Acting on its own, my body lifts its self up. I have lost a war I thought I had won. The need, desperation, the want, crave, is over overwhelming. I search blindly for the syringe I know will calm me… sedate me. Victoriously I have found a vein and with a deep sigh, I inject the object into my pale skin. I rock back and forth in short strokes, the high –I fancy- is almost like what an orgasm must feel like. I don't know for sure. I feel my eyes rolling back. I quiver and shake in pleasure, the drug is doing its job and in my movements I feel my oily hair sticking to my face. I am ready to sleep. The hunger has been fed.
At least for today.
"If I could sleep forever"
__
The light streaming in from the pieces of wood stuck to the empty window alert me that a day has passed. Possibly noon. My sweater feels heavy, and my jeans feel loose, more so than before. I am dressed in all black, it makes hiding how possibly revolting I am easier. The song is back and there is a futuristic touch to it. I don't know where I have heard it before but its my only companion, a soothing voice comes out now, aAhaAHhaAHAhh. I like this tune, there aren't many words, just sounds. It's comforting. I've heard to many words, too many too count. I enjoy silence now.
For once my body isn't shaking and I stumble out of the deceased building, my hood helps block out the sun. I don't need it, don't want it either, my preference lies in rainy towns now. The sun exposes my true colors, (what clichéd bullshit that is, at least to me) but it describes what happens. In the sun, people can speculate and ask questions, they can notice the grime, the filth, the grease, the stench. Questions I am not inclined to answer. I walk the deserted streets. The tune has ended and I am left with a deafening silence. A silence I have cast upon my self. I weakly join the other junkies, today they seem to have chosen a place that was once a garbage dump and now serves as residence for homeless people. There are fires set up here and there, the smoky smell is delectable and I find my self inhaling it, breathing it in. I suppose you could say I am addicted to many things, some more than others.
There is a boy that comes to talk to me every day, I suspect he is a Mormon but I don't say anything to drive away his company, I enjoy the small connection with the accepted world. There is nothing that gives away his piety but I have nicknamed him the Mormon boy because of his kindness. He is approaching me now and oh thank god! He has food!
"Hey there Bella" his usual greeting, I nod in response. I told you, I'm not fond of too many words. That means speaking them, hearing them…you name it. He notices my hungry stare, to tell you the truth, if my body was any stronger I would have launched myself at him and greedily gulped down all of its contents. I'm pathetic, I accept that.
"Hungry?" he motions the bag towards me but he pulls away quickly. Sneaky little bastard. I know what he wants but today I don't want to give it to him. The Mormon boy wants me to talk, but fuck my stomach is growling like crazy. He hasn't shown up in a couple of days and I am desperate. Sad, I know. These days it seems all I feel is desperation, always there. Always.
I clear my throat and his eyes brighten a little.
"Let me eat first" my voice I gruff from under use and I have to clear my throat twice before continuing. He is expectant today and really I don't give a dam right now.
"Hey Jacob, I'm hungry can I please get some of your delicious food?" longest sentence by far. He should be pleased.
"Easy, right?" he asks. I grunt in response and extend my hand, expectantly. He hands over the white plastic bag and my self disgust reaches a new low as I see the sharp contrast. The clean sterile bag against my sooty dusty hands. I soil everything I touch. I need to hear his voice, have some sort of normalcy in this "life" I'm carrying so I ask. I talk.
"Tell me about what you did today?" I ask a as spoon full of food is shoved into my mouth. His eyebrows lift and I give him a pointed glance that says 'don't push it'.
"Nothing much to tell, Billy is going away on some trip, I have the house all to myself now." He waves his eyebrows suggestively and I cannot help but chuckle. I know he wasn't actually serious, if I've learned anything about Jacob from these small encounters is that he down right the perfect gentle man when it comes to girls. Too pure (in my eyes) to do something like that.
"Seriously though" He continues.
"You need a bath; I can happily lend you my shower." Any other girl my age would consider this dangerous, would think his intensions far more unsafe than just the typical helping civilian helping hand. Jacob isn't like that though. He is going to be in for a big surprise right about now. I usually refuse his offers of help but today I don't want to. In answer to his suggestion I shrugged my shoulders in a 'why not gesture'.
"Seriously?" He says a little surprised. I nod.
"Well ok then! Let's go!" his mood uplifting I find my self giving him a small smile. I don't know what's with this boy. One day he just shows up and showers me with a certain kindness I have not encountered in a long time. I can't do anything but accept it. I am too desperate. There goes that word again. Huh.
We walk to his car, a silver truck and I grimace thinking about the damage I am about to cause to his leather seats, apparently he has the same idea, his look isn't any better than mine. It gives me a small amount of relief to know that he is at least normal when it comes to cars.
"Would you mind… I mean… well taking off your… sweater?" He asks nervously, I comply, after all this guy is about to offer me one of the greatest gifts ever invented, the chance to shower. My scars don't matter right now and besides he should know how royally messed up I am anyways. I slowly shrug out of my heavy oversized sweater and hear him gasp, I avoid looking into his eyes, fearing the pity I may see there. I loathe pity stares.
He quietly opens the car door for me and waits until I am fully inside before closing it, I told you chivalrous. I examine my self and find that my sweater has successfully kept most of the grime out of my tank top, it resembles an off white, an improvement I suppose. Anger is swelling up inside me as I stare at the many incisions all over my arms specially the area that I use to relive the desperate need for drugs. My teeth are locked, anger is directed solely at me, no one else because no one else is too blame for the disorder that I have created.
We drive in relative comfortable silence and I notice the small changes in the housing. Crappy run down, relatively new, nice yard, trees, bushes, porches, larger houses. It's like going through a time line. I take notice that Jacob lives in the nicer parts of Phoenix and I am not surprised.
"Here we are" his voice brings me back to the present and I turn my head to look out the window again after acknowledging him. His house I nice, a bit small for this area but it looks cozy. I am not a complete imbecile, so I force my self to talk. He is being overly generous and deserves to know that I am truly eternally grateful, I don't say as much though.
"Thank you" I say looking into his eyes, they seem to smile and shine, like the sun.
"You are very welcome" and then he is out of the car and opening my door. We walk to his house and he shows me were all things are. I leave my clothes out for him as he requested. He wants to wash them. I would too, if I were him.
The water feels nice against my skin, a gentle caress. I turn the knob and the water heats up rapidly, I squeeze shampoo and scrub and scratch week's worth of filth out of my hair. Next comes my body, I grab the small piece of soap and leather my hands, and then I too scratch and scrub all of the filth away. The water at my feet has changed color it is now a muddy brown, I frown as its building up and pull the plug. The water chugs down making a certain gulping sound. My dirt is washed away. I feel alive again.
The shower has allowed me to think. I need to change. I know that.
I have to.
"If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything" the tune is back.
__
After I showered, Jacob took the liberty of feeding me some cereal and we sat in his couch and watched TV. Something I haven done in months. His house looks expensive and I am careful not to touch too much. As I said, I soil all I touch. Its night now and he has shown me a room where I can sleep. I am sleeping in his clothing because mine are still drying. I have unpleasant dreams that night, they are about my life before I fucked it up. I wake up shaking and shivering, cold sweat covering me. It's something I do when I haven't had my fix in a while. I cannot do drugs though, not anymore, I have more will power than that.
Don't I?