Notes: And another one… This time the title is a takeoff on the lyrics to a Colorfinger song called 'The Color Pit'. I can't help it… both Colorfinger and early Everclear have a lot of references to heroin in their music (hmmm… maybe because that music was written by the same guy? ^^ Could be, could be…)
Death's Head Grins (Of All My Friends Who OD'd and Died)
"What does that mean?" I asked, suddenly frightened at what his response would be.
"Well, you think I take drugs…" He shrugged nonchalantly. "And you're so damn knowledgeable… you figure it out." He left his room and went across the hall to the bathroom; I followed, watching as he grabbed a washcloth and used it to dab at his swelling lip.
"First things first," I sighed in his ear as he frowned at his reflection in the dirty, smudged bathroom mirror. "You have to tell me… are you taking drugs?"
"I don't have to tell you anything," he snapped.
"Maybe not," I conceded. "Maybe not… but do you really want me going to… oh… the school guidance counselors and telling them I think you're in trouble?" His eyes widened appropriately. "Or maybe you'd rather I go straight to Magneto and tell him…"
His eyes were so full of ire I thought his stare could have cut diamonds. But I just smiled and looked at our distorted reflection in mirror. "Do you?"
Silently, his hand went to his pocket and pulled out a little white packet he tossed onto the countertop. I grabbed it almost as soon as it left his hand and ripped it wide open.
White powder. It could have been a thousand different drugs. I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
His eyes met mine and he grinned. "What? Your detecting skills can't figure out what it is? All that time on the street and you don't even know one drug from another…"
I moved my left hand to the back of his neck and pinched the sensitive nerve right below his hairline. "Tell me…" I said, my voice as low and threatening as I could make it.
"Heroin," he admitted, eyes tearing from the pain I was inflicting on him, "Heroin, all right? Now let go of me!" I did as I was told and released him. As he groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, I turned on the faucet and began to pour the powder down the drain.
"Hey, that's expensive!" He blurted out, temporarily forgetting the situation. I flashed him a glare and continued to dispose of it.
"Next question," I said, after emptying the bag, crumpling it into a ball, and tossing it into the trashcan, "Do you inject it?"
"Yes."
"Where do you get the needles?"
"I buy 'em with the drug."
"And they come sterilized like that?"
"Yes. Jesus Christ, Lance…"
"Who do you buy them from?"
He set his mouth into a thin line and stared at me from the deep recesses of his hollow eyes. I exhaled with frustration.
"Fine, don't tell me…"
"I wasn't planning on it."
I rubbed my temples unenthusiastically, truly dreading the next part of the interrogation. "Pietro… I'm going to ask you another question and you absolutely have to tell me the truth… ok?" He crossed his arms and shifted his weight, not promising me a damn thing. "How do you pay for it?"
"With money."
I decided not to fight with him. "Where do you get the money?"
He hesitated. And slowly I could see the all the angry and cynical remarks, all the hate and resentment directed at the rest of the world, leave his body. He let his arms drop to his sides and sagged against the cool tile wall. He looked ashen, sick, and unhappy.
"They pay me to…" He trailed off.
"To what?"
And his eyeballs swiveled in their sockets, sickening and watery, they turned to look at me. Sad, like the eyes of a dying trout. Sad, like the eyes of widows. "To fuck with them."
I swallowed. What do you say to that? "So you are a whore."
"What?"
Ah… apparently you don't say that.
"Well, at least you can admit it." It felt liked we'd exchanged personalities. Now I was the one filled with sarcasm and dry wit.
And those sad widow's eyes dried abruptly; they began to look the eyes of a particularly venomous snake. "Yessss…" he actually hissed at me, body suddenly filled with energy again as he moved forward to taunt me, "Yes, I let them touch me with their cold, slimy hands. I moan and I pretend to enjoy it. They fuck me and I just don't care, because at least they pay me afterwards!" He moved back a little and spun around, showing off his thin body, running his hands through his hair and down his chest. "Do you know how much I cost, Lance?" He smiled with false sweetness. "Fifteen dollars for a blowjob, fifty for a fuck, one hundred for a whole night. Anything special is negotiable." Another bright smile, this one complete with shark-like, predatory teeth. "I bet you couldn't afford me, Lance."
"I didn't know I had to afford you," I said through gritted teeth, "I thought we cared about each other."
"You thought wrong."
"Did I?" I was angry, but it was a special kind of anger. It was the slow-boiling, nervous, tense anger that made it hard to hurt people, but easy to hurt myself. "I dunno, I seem to recall you enjoying it enough to scream my name at the top of your lungs." He sniffed.
"I was high. It doesn't count."
I advanced on him, the anger taking over. "You need to stop. I can't be responsible for you. And I can't put locks on your doors and bars on your windows to keep you from going out and selling yourself cheap for a stupid drug that'll ruin your life anyway." I turned to leave, to get away from the ugly house with its ugly people and its ugly memories. I wanted to leave, to walk and try to figure out what to do… what to do.
But Pietro had caught the sleeve of my shirt, he was hanging on me, sniveling and whining through his tears. "No, Lance! Please don't leave me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry… but you don't understand, you just don't understand!" And the tears were flowing, damp and hot down his pale, diseased skin and over the bloody contours of his new fat lip. He didn't look beautiful at that moment, he didn't shine the way he had the night we'd made love. But at least he looked like Pietro, and that was enough for me. I swept him into a hug and he sobbed loudly into my shoulder.
"You don't understand… you just don't understand…"