The fix
Jack reached for the remote control and activated the window blockers, a look of despair came over his face as he knew what was coming next. His conversation with Chase in which the drug problem had been brought up had triggered an urge in him, an urge for a fix, another fix, another poisonous monstrous self destroying fix. He could feel the shame inside him. He had done the heroin in the line of duty, but now he was just desperate, a hopeless desperate and ashamed junkie.
He composed himself for a minute, before getting up and walking to his filing cabinet. He opened the door and looked to the roof of it, where the all too familiar silver case looked back at him. The shame grew bigger as he took it down and walked back to his desk with it, now he was determined to inject, his urge to do other things didn't seem important now, all that mattered to him was in front of him. He opened the case and pulled out the strap, quickly putting it on the desk as he unbutton his sleeve and rolled up his shirt exposing his arm to the enemy that was the case and its contents. He quickly tied the strap around his arm and making sure it was tight, before he slapped the arm twice, ensuring it was tied properly.
He reached for the syringe and it was calling out to him, he started to put it together and reached for the heroin, and seconds later the syringe was ready and he started to fill it with the heroin. The heat in the room was killing him, his sweating becoming more anxious as he went on, he blinked several times as he inspected the syringe every step of the way. Suddenly it was done, there in front of him ready for inject, and he was ready for inject too. He moved it to his arm and monitoring what he was doing got ready to do his thing… The phone rang and he quickly looked at it, a look of fear coming over his face when he heard Kim's voice.
'Dad you up there?'
He didn't respond.
A pause followed before she spoke again
'Dad?'
He decided to respond.
'Ya.'
'Are you ok?'
'Ya i'm fine.'
'Can i come up? there's something i need to talk to you about.'
'Not right now sweetheart i'm in the middle of something.' his hand starting to shake a bit, as the demand from his body became unbearable.
'Ok well call me when you have a moment.'
'Ok.' the line went quiet and making sure she had hung up, went back to what he was doing.
His arm was now almost in a life of it's own demanding he obey it and inject, his head was telling him the same thing. He thought about Kim, about how disappointed she would be with him if she found this out. He continued to argue with his senses and had just found the strength to say no, when a final demand that he do it came from nowhere and invaded his mind like a brainwash.
He injected, and the heroin flowed into him like blood would, his body so used to it by now. His body was satisfied with the fix, but his mind and heart were fuming and he felt like dying on the spot. He threw the empty syringe across the room and ripped off the strap almost as fast as he had thrown the syringe, he yelled out loud, anger at the poison he had just put into himself. He stood up and ran to the window and started punching it, with all his strength. He hammered at the wall with the rage of the devil inside him, disgusted with himself, wishing he was dead, and then he thought about doing just that. He fell to his knees and pulled out his gun. The terrible feel of the heroin was still dominating his body, and the gun all of a sudden seemed to be the solution that would relieve him of that. He pressed the gun to his temple and let himself cry, tears of sorrow. tears of guilt, tears of shame. All of it was too much for him, he closed his eyes and waited for the bang…..
It didn't come.
Because he suddenly realised why he was here today, to stop the virus outbreak, his undercover mission would be useless if he was dead, if he killed himself, he would be condemning the country to the virus, and the world would eventually find out it was because of him, and that he had taken the coward's way out, and didn't own up to his drug problem. How would the people around him deal with that, if they didn't die from the virus first? He had to put the world's problems ahead of his own. The heroin still fresh in his system, the feel of it making it sound like it was laughing at him, like it was talking to him, saying with a triumphant voice. 'I won.' It had won… for now, it had won the battle but it would lose the war. He packed up the contents of the drug kit and pocketed it, then walking back to his desk, and he sat down again. This was worse than his wife dying, it was sorrow topped off with a terrible feel of guilt. Somehow he had to find a way to beat it, and if it killed him he would find a way. He gave himself his word, the same way he would give the president his word every time he made him a promise, that he would kill his heroin addiction. For his own sake, and everyone else's.
He was relieved of his thoughts by the phone ringing. He answered it.
'Ya.'
Jack we have an ID on the John Doe from the NHS, came Michelle's voice.
'Ok i'll be right down.'
He walked to the door, the heroin still clawing at his insides, satisfied with its victory. But he was already planning how he would be the eventual winner, he felt the drug kit in his pocket as he went to the door, it felt like a threat but also felt tempting. But he quickly shook his head. 'It's a threat not a tempt, he said and it will be a threat until it has been neutralised. The first step having been taken to winning, He opened the door and with a mighty effort stepped out of the office.