much thanks LuvObi. dear Curt has a lot more to endure, but there are some "happier" moments to come. and Vic -- er, Billy, m' a leannan, you are absolutely radge.

trainspotting is the greatest book on earth, and the movie rocks. lotta influence on this chapter. hail to Irvine Welsh for the inspiration, as well as Danny Boyle, Andrew Macdonald, and John Hodge. needless to say: maj. drug usage warning

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Chapter Five: "Rush"

It hadn't taken young Curt Wild and Tawny Koyel long to fall in with the underground crowd. They had run away to the intercity of Detroit that night, leaving Arik mangled upon the ground and the Wild household short two sons and a bit of money lighter. Curt had snuck back into the trailer from the backside door. His parents were in the front, fighting. He cringed as he heard glass shatter and his mother sobbing, but crushed his emotions down -- he had a mission. He grabbed Arik's guitar and then hit every stash of money -- mother, father, brother's, his own -- that he knew. He found just shy of a hundred dollars -- ninety-three dollars and seventeen cents, he and Tawny would later count. And then, guitar slung on his back and money split between their pockets, Curt and Tawny had headed for intercity Detroit.

They were squatters, the group the boys hooked up with, and they lived in an abandoned brownstone on the industrial side of town... And they had an awesome way of life Tawny and Curt were almost immediately consumed by.

It was the first place Curt scored a hit of heroin.

Josh Dawes, head of the clan, was sitting around with other three of the group of six (excluding Curt and Tawny) -- Brent, Abby and Rockie -- cooking up. Curt stood leaning against the far wall, smoking a cigarette, watching. Tawny was passed out in the room they shared.

He watched the ecstasy upon Abby's face, shivered at her heady moans after Josh had depressed the plunger of the syringe, flooding her system with liquid euphoria.

"Can I try?"

He'd been so quiet Josh hadn't even known he was in the room, let alone watching with rapt attention. Josh's hungry gaze moved from the still-flying Abby to the scrawny little vagabond he'd taken under his wing. The little one with the shaggy dark hair and expressive eyes that never stayed the same colour. Not the Barbie doll, but the fallen angel.

"No."

Curt's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You ain't nothin' but a kid, man. Plus, you ain't gonna like it. No-one ever really does, first try."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

"Doubtful," Josh replied, but he couldn't help his crooked smirk. Spunky little bastard, that kid. He sighed. Hard to deny that. "Fine. C'mere."

Curt walked over and took a seat next to Josh. He watched intently as Josh cooked him up a shot -- watched him dissolve the white powder in the spoonful of water and heat it over his Zippo's flame until it bubbled. Sucked it up into the hypodermic. As he did this, he had instructed Curt to cinch his belt round his upper arm, tight --which Curt had done -- and he balled his hand into a fist.

Josh tapped up a vein on the inside of Curt's elbow, stark blue-green against the translucent porcelain colour of his skin.

He watched the metal needle slip beneath the skin, feeling the slight "pop" feeling as it punctured. He didn't flinch; he only stared, mesmerised, his eyes a hard green-grey. Josh depressed the plunger as Curt watched the whitish liquid disappear, to course through his blood, rush through his system.

It took a moment -- a fluttering heartbeat -- and it hit. A whirling rush. It was wonderful. It was beautiful. It turned him upside-down and inside-out for a moment, but the pleasure definitely outweighed any nausea or confusion. He loved it. A way to wash away his pain -- something he had been searching for since he left the nuthouse. And here it was. And hell, it was fucking nirvana.

He didn't want to come down for a while -- never, really.

He was hooked. And in the five days till his birthday, March 31st, he made sure he stayed that way.

He was fifteen and a junkie.

And he didn't give a damn.

He had found his escape.

(The lyric in the page break is from "Tumbling Down" by Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and the Venus in Furs)