Summary:
And at the end, the chickens are coming home to roost…
Chapter:
They walked out of the restaurant embracing each other by the waist, stopping from time to time to kiss.
It seemed they couldn't do without each other.
Just when they got in the car, it seemed that the passion was burning them so much that they had to consume their intercourse there and then.
But Ward was the first to regain control and said, panting:
"Stop, Skye, stop please! I don't want us to be arrested for lewdness in a public place!"
"Ok, ok! You're right! But try to get us out of the way soon! I can't resist anymore!"
"Remember that patience is the virtue of the strong!"
"But I'm not strong, not anymore…"
And with that, Skye felt a deep depression engulfing her, so fierce that she had to mentally slap herself not to crush down in a million pieces and starting crying desperately as usual.
But now she wasn't with Jenny: she was with Ward and she wanted this.
She wanted this fiercely, and not to earn any money!
She was sure that, if she asked him, Ward would have covered her with money. She knew he was in love with her, out of his mind. She could exploit this weakness against him, but she didn't want to use him anymore. He had already been treated that way all his life: he deserved better.
But the effects of the drug were fading and she had absolutely to take another dose soon, if she wanted to rise to the occasion. She clenched her inseparable bag to herself like it was a safety net, instead than a gun to her head, as it really was.
Ward drove safely through the streets of the city, until they arrived to an area full of dream villas. He stopped in front of one of these, opened the garage door with the remote control, parked the car safely inside, got out and gallantly opened the door for her, always holding out his arm.
She took that and once again she felt excitement buzzing in her.
But the need for a dose stung her hard…
Once inside she had the time to take a look around.
The house was marvelous, very tastefully decorated with an ultra-modern style. She had the impression to have just walked into a magazine of dream houses.
Ward asked her:
"Do you like it, here?"
"Oh, Grant! This is dreamy!
I never saw a more beautiful house before!
But why did you take me here?
You could just take me to a motel room…"
"A dingy motel room?
For you?
Never!
You deserve the best life has to offer!"
- Yeah, Skye!
You deserve to be happy!
You deserve to be loved!
You deserve to live!
Do not kill yourself!
Do not throw your life away!
I need you! – he was thinking.
Instead, Skye felt that nasty damned knot in her throat that prevented her from speaking and a series of thoughts completely opposite.
She didn't deserve all of that!
She didn't deserve to be treated so well!
She didn't deserve him!
He approached her and started kissing her again, passionately, openmouthedly, claiming everything from her and giving her everything in return.
He didn't have to hold back, now, and she noticed the difference. There was such a gap from before as between the light of the moon and the splendor of the sun!
She had always suspected that he had to be a truly passionate lover, but the reality surpassed all her wildest expectations! He was a man who did not give you rest, with whom it was impossible to pretend, a man that slipped inside of you and took out everything, powerfully, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable!
Before things could reach an unsustainable level and it was no longer possible to stop, she begged him to give her time:
"Ward, please, Ward!"
He stopped, panting, visibly making a huge effort.
"What's the matter?"
"I need to go to the bathroom, first…"
"Oh, yeah… of course…"
And he led her upstairs, to a door that conducted to a large bedroom with a huge king sized bed. Then he indicated another door: "There is the private bathroom of this bedroom."
"Thanks."
And she went inside, carefully closing the door behind her.
She noticed there wasn't the key, on the door…
She was almost out of her mind, for his ministrations, but especially for the withdrawal symptoms, that started to provoke incredibly acute pain in her bones and in her muscles. She had absolutely to inject a dose, now!
Her hands were horribly shaking and she had to make an effort not to drop everything when she opened her bag.
She took carefully the small glass bottle containing a dirty, light-orange colored liquid, the spoon, the tie, the cotton and the syringe. Then she secured the tie around her left arm, took a piece of cotton and filtered with it a little amount of the colored liquid letting drop it in the spoon. Then she took the syringe, filled it and approached the crook of her elbow, which showed already some scars and a black vein. She had been careful to choose a dress that could cover all these marks.
But her right hand was shaking too much: not in a million years she would be able to catch the vein!
So she chose to inject into the same place as when she was not able to do otherwise: in the belly, more or less where Ian Quinn shot her.
She took away her red dress remaining only in her underwear.
Her hope was to be able to get to the aorta, but her poor knowledge of anatomy made her not grasp the concept that the aorta laid very deep, and she would never have been able to get to it with such a short needle.
She was about to sting herself when a strong sudden bang startled her, causing her to drop the syringe and all her merchandise to the ground.
Someone had opened the bathroom door with force, bumping it.
She raised her eyes and immediately desired to crawl into the most hidden and deep bowels of the Earth. It was like getting a shower of ice!
Ward was on the threshold of the door!
He looked distraught, with a mixed expression of disbelief, disgust, disappointment and pity on his face.
Several moments passed in complete silence.
"Skye…" his voice was strangely gentle, almost pleading.
"What are you doing…"
"Ward…" she was terribly shaking, hyperventilating, sweating and started crying desperately. She also sat down on the floor, because she couldn't stand straight.
"Grant, let me take a shot, please!
Please!
I cannot resist anymore!
There is so much pain in me that I'm going insane!"
Immediately the Specialist instinct took over him and he leapt towards her, kneeling and clutching her face strongly in his hands, steadying her.
"What are you using?
Tell me, now!" he shouted.
"I… I don't know!" she answered.
"Skye!
Focus!
I cannot help you if you don't tell me what you are using!
What is that?
I never saw such a liquid!"
He was looking at the liquid in the syringe, which lay on the ground, while the glass bottle that contained the rest was shattered on the ground.
"Tell me!
Amphetamine?
Methamphetamine? It is known also as 'ice'…
Ketamine?
Benzodiazepine?
Cannabis?
Cocaine?
Crack?
Mescaline?
Morphine?
Ecstasy?
Heroin?
LSD? They call it also 'acid'…
Marijuana?
Hashish?
Mephedrone? It is known also as 'bath salts' or 'meow meow'…"
He was inspecting now her belongings.
"Why do you have a lighter?
Did you crush tablets? They need heat to dissolve… the same for heroin…
Did you need some acid to dissolve it, like citric or ascorbic acid?"
She was shaking her head and crying.
"I don't know! I don't remember!"
"Skye! Focus!"
"Ok, ok! At the beginning I sniffled a white powder and took some pills"
"Ok, and that could be coke or LSD and Ecstasy"
"But then I didn't have enough money."
"And you robbed a bank!"
"How do you know it?"
"Skye! Focus!"
"Oh, Grant! I needed absolutely something to get me high! After Raoul was died…"
"… thanks to you…"
"How the hell do you know that?"
"Skye! The bank and Raoul's building where crushed down by an earthquake! I know what powers you have, for heaven's sake!
Now focus!
What happened after Raoul's death?"
"The city was suddenly filled by a lot of new dealers…
There was this group of strangers… with a strange accent… They said that there was this new drug, extremely cheap, that gave a huge high, ten times stronger than heroin. And it cost only 5 dollars per dose… I was desperate and I took it…"
"How many times?"
"I don't remember!"
"When did you start?"
"About four days ago."
"Only four days? And where did you inject it?"
"In the crook of my elbow, but seldom in my belly, too, because my hands were so terribly shaking!"
"How many times?"
"I don't remember, but a lot.
The highs lasted only two hours, and then I was compelled to take another dose.
Continuously!
Day and night!"
While she was talking Ward inspected her belly and noticed several random little abscesses.
He felt the blood freezing in his veins.
"Oh, my God!"
He started breathing hard, his eyes wide open, panicking.
He once more cupped her face to force her to watch him.
"Tell me, Skye. The accent… that strange accent you were talking about… was it Russian?"
"Could be… Whenever they agreed to each other, they used the word 'da', that I think means 'yes'.
…
And… yes, now I remember! They told me this was a fashion drug in Russia these days!"
Ward dipped a finger in the liquid that was spilled on the floor, smelled it and took a taste.
Yes.
It was iodine.
And phosphorus.
He closed his eyes in defeat.
"Skye!
What the hell have you done!
How the hell could you been so sloppy!"
"What's the matter?"
"You are taking the most addictive and dangerous opiates out there, that kills most of its users within one year! It represents a new standard for fast destruction of mind, spirit and body!
You wanted to go with a blast?
Now you got what you wanted!"
"Ward, I swear! I didn't know…
Tell me! What is it?" she asked stupefied.
"It is a homemade version of desomorphine, a powerful pain killer of the thirties.
Desomorphine is a sedative and analgesic. It is 8–15 times more potent than morphine, and has weaker toxic, convulsant, emetic and respiratory depression action.
It was used for special diseases.
It triggers an enormous high, far more powerful than regular morphine. But the effects also wear off far more quickly and, as an opioid, it is highly addictive. Made properly in a laboratory, desomorphine is no more dangerous than regular morphine: they are both extremely addictive and problematic if used improperly, but helpful in the hands of a trained pharmacist.
But here the problem is not the desomorphine per se.
The problem is that the preparation is homemade by not professionals that read the procedure over the Internet, using poor ingredients, in poor settings and without hygienic precautions.
This is the reason of its cheapness, almost one tenth of heroin.
The preparation starts with codeine, easy to find in over the counter headache pills; the synthesis is made mixing it together with organic solvents - such as gasoline, Mr. Muscle, paint thinner, lighter fluid, alcohol or another strong alkali, and acidified water -, then cooking with iodine, hydrochloric acid, and red phosphorus from the matches heads. But just these dangerous chemicals are not always fully cooked out of the concoction: on the contrary residues of acids and alkalis, petroleum derivatives, industrial oils, organic solvents, red phosphorus, iodine, heavy metals and other toxic substances remain after synthesis.
Those who inject these caustic agents into their veins or flesh (and it's hard to determine exactly what users are injecting into their bodies alongside desomorphine) can develop abscesses, like you, extreme skin ulcerations, hemorrhaging, rupture of arteries, widespread necrosis, flesh rotting, infections, gangrene that leads to limb amputation, phlebitis, thrombosis, pneumonia, meningitis, septicemia, osteomyelitis, liver and kidney damage, brain damage, rotting gums and tooth loss, together with green or black scale-like, scabrous, flaking off skin, that resembles the skin of a crocodile.
This skin appearance, together with the 'bites' on the limbs this drug provokes, that resemble the ones of a real crocodile, generated the street name: KROKODIL.
It is also called flesh-eating drug, because, if the user misses the vein when injecting, the drug provokes the death of the flesh surrounding the entry-point. This drug destroys the body from the inside out, until it reaches the skin and, without the skin protection, there start a bunch of infections that, if not cured, become gangrene."
At those horrible news Skye, already in terrible pain, remained speechless.
"I'm doomed" she commented, in a whisper.
"Was it not what you wanted?" he answered full of anger, rummaging in a first aid kit. "To have fun at all costs?"
"Were not you who said that hope, life and love were only the dreams of a bunch of deluded people?
Well…
This…" and he gestured to her and all her shattered death instruments,
"is what remains if you reject hope, life and love."
Skye remained on the floor, panting hardly, containing her pain with sheer will power.
Ward continued, mercilessly, as to make his point even clearer:
"Another less obvious risk with krokodil use is that those who are afflicted with gangrene and other side effects may delay seeking much-needed medical treatment due to the fear of legal action. But, most of all, the desire for continued krokodil administration, to prevent withdrawal effects, may prevent users from presenting for treatment.
…
Heroin provides a four to eight hour high," he pronounced this word with scorn in his voice,
"while krokodil's lasts only about 90 minutes. Due to the short high, some people became full-time addicts, cooking the drug for a half-hour, injecting it and then starting the next batch so they could use it when the high from the prior batch began to wear off.
In Russia, addicts live in groups so some can go get the ingredients while others cook.
Users are at increased risk for exhaustion due to sleep deprivation, memory loss, and problems with speech. But it doesn't stop there. The drugs stay in the system and can cause secondary organ failure and neurological or endocrine system damage normally associated with heavy metals like mercury and lead.
…
The street buyers seldom don't even know what they are injecting.
Like you."
He was now searching for a glass, but continued speaking.
"If the user fails to get more shots, he will go into a grueling withdrawal that sets in rapidly once the dosage is missed.
Krokodil horrendous withdrawal symptoms are similar to heroin: insomnia, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, extreme muscle cramping, depression, ache, overall sickness, 40-degree temperature and sometimes seizures.
But unlike heroin, krokodil causes withdrawal symptoms so severe and savage that a user going cold turkey must be given powerful tranquillizers to knock him out until the pain eases.
Heroin can cause sickness and pain for up to ten days but withdrawal from krokodil can result in a month of unbearable pain. This makes coming off the drug so unappealing that addicts will often watch their skin rot away from the bones rather than face sobriety."
Skye felt her head spinning.
Wasn't that what she deserved?
Wasn't that the wage for all the evil she did, for all he lives she had taken?
Ward was near her, now, kneeled on the floor:
"Skye, are you with me?"
She nodded.
"I know you are in pain. There's no need to play the hero, here.
These…" and he showed her two pills in his hand
"… are powerful pain killers.
And you can believe me if I say they are powerful. I'm a pain expert…"
He held a glass of water in the other hand.
"Take these and go to bed. You should be able to get some rest.
And tomorrow we will decide what to do.
Ok?"
She nodded again, took the pills and the glass and gobbled down them with the water.
Then she let Ward help her stand.
Every movement caused her an increase in pain, every breath, every step…
But she swallowed all the laments and all the tears, because she felt she deserved it all.
She wanted to feel all that.