Across The Sky
Blake opened the door to The Den and immediately he got hit by the stink of the house. The smell of decay, rotting wood, sulphur and chemicals. The house was dark, but not empty. From every corner he heard whispers, moans and surly echoes. As if the living made room for ghosts and spirits, left wandering long after death and imprisoned by the chains of the Den.
He sighed. 'Home sweet home' he thought sadly.
You see, the Den was not a home to anyone. It was an abandoned house, declared uninhabitable, that quickly became a refuge for the homeless youths of the area. It was near Liberty Street so the place was filled with gay teens who's life had been turned upside down the moment they came out. This grimy dark cave became their safe haven, a place where they could squat just for a while. There were only 2 rules: no fighting and no one gets left outside. Every person is accepted. Young, old, gay, straight, bi, drag, straight edge, junkie or not… all had a place to sleep for the night. There was no discrimination. All were equal and the same. All were cold, hungry and alone.
Big Tony was the guy in charge. A huge guy with tattoos on his arms and fists made of iron. Long black hair that was always tied in a bun. Eyes as dark as the night. He was one mean motherfucker and no one messed with him. The place may not have been the Hilton's but Big Tony made sure it was safe. No one would get physically harmed in his house.
Unfortunately Big Tony didn't do this out of the goodness of his heart. He was also the biggest dealer in the area. And Big Tony wasn't stupid. He took in the homeless kids, vulnerable, weak and easy to manipulate. When they needed support, he offered heroine. First hit is free. Then you pay a small fee. Et voila, watch the clientele grow.
No one gets left outside.
Strange as it seems, Blake was grateful for Big Tony. When everyone turned their backs on him, Big tony didn't refuse him. At the time, it meant the world to him. He didn't care what it had cost him, because anything – anything – is better than sleeping on the streets.
When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he recognized a couple of people. Most were laying on the floor, a couple came early enough to sit on the battered and old sofa's. It may not be much, but when you have nothing, even a demolished couch is a luxury.
He walked into the hallway, placing his every step carefully so that he wouldn't accidently stand on someone. He nodded at Derrick, an old buddy of his. Derrick sat in the hallway, clearly riding a high. The tourniquet around his arm, the needle still in his vein, the strong acidic smell of molten heroine. The blissful expression on his face, the thoughtless mind that can escape, the body that can finally relax.
Blake worried about Derrick. He used to be strong and healthy, now he looked like a shell of his former self. Maybe I should score him some suboxone to ease the withdrawal. I still owe Big Tony a favour. Or maybe I should wait until I need that favour.
Blake winced as soon as the thought hit him. 6 months ago he would never have thought of being so selfish. But now, that's what he is. Junkies lie and deceive.
Blake's mistress was calling him. No, not some gorgeous redhead that was going to show him a good time. No, it was Crystal. She was calling to him. He felt his body ache for her and longed to be embraced by her.
Blake's poison was methamphetamines. Sometimes GHB, but only when he wanted to fuck. Fucking on GHB is amazing, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He stayed clear from heroine. That shit was scary. The higher the ride, the faster you fall. He heard of bad heroine being passed around in some parts of the world, shit called crocodile. Low grade heroine mixed with some sort of acid. The moment you shoot up, the acid starts eating through your flesh and muscles. Apparently it started out as some sort of KGB method to rid Russia of homeless drug addicts. Nasty things. He's been scared of it ever since he's heard the tale. But it didn't scare him off other things. He's tried most drugs available, sometimes because he was curious. But often because he was looking to score and couldn't find meth. But in the end the result was all the same. He always came back to Crystal.
He quickly walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. In a second, the whispers that sounded so loud before were locked out. It was just him and Crystal now, in an empty, dirty bathroom. He walked to the washing basin and splashed cold water on his face. He felt his skin tingle as the cold air hit. He breathed deeply and looked up. For the first time in days he looked at his own reflection. Sweat on his brow, hollowed out eyes, grey skin, cuts and scrapes that wouldn't heal … Christ, I even look like a junkie now. I've been using too much. I'm lucky I still have all my teeth.
With an angry growl, he looked away, only too eager to erase that memory. He sat on the lid of the toilet and got the small bag of white pills out of his coat. He only managed to score pills tonight, not powder. Fuck.
What to do with it?
Just swallow the pills? Big lunch. It would take too long to dissolve in his stomach.
Shoot up? He looked around the bathroom, searching for the hidden places of others. No clean needles. Shit. Should I risk it? Shit. No. HIV. Hepatitis. Don't be that stupid.
Grind it up and snort it? He hesitated. Yesterday Derrick told him that chemists put glass fibres – microscopic ground up glass – in methamphetamines so that when you snort it, it cuts the tiny veins in your nose. It should increase the speed in which the drugs gets absorbed into your system. Jesus Christ, that's fucked up shit. I should stop people from telling me these stories. Why did he tell me this? Fucking bastard.
He hesitated. His mind was saying 'stop' but his body was hurting. The stories scared him endlessly but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't. He was a weak little boy that needed his fix. Pathetic junkie.
His body was hurting badly. He needed her. Decision needs to be made. Pills it is. But purge first. It's faster on an empty stomach. Before he realized he felt his body invigorated and energized. Like it's been hit by lightning. Suddenly the bad stuff was gone. Suddenly he could take on the world. All the bad was wiped off the surface of the earth with one simple hit. Like magic.
A knock on the door and a faint voice. 'Blake? You coming with us to Babylon?'
Blake smiled. Oh yeah, tonight anything can happen.
12 hours later …
Blake woke up at the Den. He didn't know how, but he made it back to the Den after clubbing at Babylon. He weakly remembered a guy … blond? Randy? Thomas? Peter? Oh fuck, who cares.
The cold had woken him up. He shivered and felt around for his coat. Or a blanket. Or anything. The mattress was wet. He'd sweat though his clothes. His head was being split in two, his mouth dry like a dessert. His joints ached and muscles screamed. Crystal had left him and the withdrawal had started. Shit. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why can't I just stop?
He didn't bother moving. He was uncomfortable but he didn't care. Every ounce of life had left him. He'd never been this low before and it got worse every day. Hopelessly he thought of the last time he felt safe and loved. He could barely remember. He looked up at the wall and saw stars, distant and faint. The only light source for miles desperately trying to peek through the small window. Not even stars are brave enough to shine in this place.
Silent and hot tears fell from his eyes and he didn't bother the wipe. His hip pressed against something in the pocket of his jeans. Something hard and angular. He knew what it was without looking at it. A medal. A few weeks ago he met this guy. Older, but sweet. Not the muscled type but different. There was a kindness in his eyes, that shook him to his core. He didn't know why but it did. Something unexplainable. He went back to his place but it ended badly. What had happened anyway? What was his name? Ted right? Like a teddybear. Because he was nice. Jesus Christ what happened that night?
He couldn't remember how he came in possession of it but he remember the guy talking about it. Something about his grandfather and the war. He didn't even know why he took the medal, he just did. Junkies lie and deceive. And steal.
Guilt hit him. Maybe he'd find him again and he could return it.
The cold was back, creeping up his body. But it was the kind of cold that no blanket could cure. It came from inside, freezing his insides. A cold that comes from loneliness, desperation and hopelessness.
He looked up at the sky again and in a surprising moment, he saw a shooting star. He closed his eyes. I wish for love. I wish for Ted.
Footsteps behind him resounded quietly. He felt the mattress dip and a strong presence behind him. Cold hands and fingers like spiders traced lines on his arms. He turned his head and recognized the eyes. He surrendered to an icy kiss.
It may not be love. But at least I'm not alone.
Across town, Ted walked around with his friends. Emmett was talking to Mikey about the guy he hooked up with. Ted wasn't really listening, he was lost in his own thoughts.
It was another long and boring night of cruising around Babylon to find someone to love. Emmett would say 'someone to fuck' but Ted was looking for something else. He'd been looking for a very long time but the only thing he found was disappointment. The happy chatter around him didn't even register. Too lost in his own mind, Ted just walked on autopilot.
A blond boy in jeans walked passed the trio. He didn't even look at Ted. As if someone that hot would ever be interested in him. That never happened. Well, once it did. But that didn't go well. At first it was perfect. This sweet face kept pursuing him the entire night. He never understood why but for some reason the kid chose him to spend the night with. Eventually he took him home. And ended up in a coma. If it's too good to be true, then it's not true at all. He must've had a hidden agenda. I'm lucky I still have all of my things. He could've stolen everything.
And yet … he couldn't erase the memory of the kid. The moment they kissed … that connection, that feeling … it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He felt invigorated and energized. Like he'd been hit by lightning. Suddenly the bad stuff was gone. Suddenly he could take on the world. All the bad was wiped off the surface of the earth with one simple kiss. Like magic.
He looked up at the sky and in a surprising moment, he saw a shooting star. He closed his eyes. I wish for love. The love that could've been.