MeowMeowChwan: Thank you! I really appreciate your lovely comments hehe. Yes, indeed. GO KILLUA.
Enjoy.
"A gun would do the trick. Get it over with."
Killua eased himself into the only lounge chair within the modern-styled living room as the woman from earlier – Nicknamed Angel – set down two small cups of freshly brewed tea. He took a big whiff of it, inhaling the sweet, earthy aroma of spring leaf and hummed appreciatively. It did smell much better then all the liquor piled in his bag. He could at least stand to give it a shot. And it did remind him faintly of Gon; the pine leaves and the autumn tang of the forest boy lingering on his breath, and his heart.
Gon.
"You were following me earlier." Angel spoke up, slipping onto the dark, navy blue couch across him. The table separated the space between the two and she leaned forward, elbows braced on the glass with a scowl on her face that wasn't there earlier. Killua's eye twitched at how brash sounding her voice was in person compared to how (sort-of) womanly she seemed in the photo. Total difference indeed. "What's your deal, kid?"
"You sure jump into conversation, lady. And we only just met." He laughed, licking the rim of his cup with too much enthusiasm.
She rolled her eyes, words dripping with sarcasm. "Wow, what a change in demeanor from the earlier you I witnessed, ready to bawl his eyes off like a big baby. Yeah. I am pretty friendly, aren't I? Just get to the point already. Why were you following me?"
"I need to ask you a few things."
"Okay."
The tension was at ease and no longer as thick as what a steak knife could cut into, so Killua relaxed his shoulders. If he could make this into the most casual talk he was able to; then this would be a piece of cake. The hassle of trying to explain too much (especially with his prior emotional-induced rambling) for a person he's only ever going to speak to once, and once only, would be bothersome.
On top of that, Killua was running low on time already.
"But- What few things would these happen to be?"
"About my friend."
"You mean that Gon Freecs kid?"
Alarm bells went off and Killua shot upright in his chair, glaring incredulously. "How the hell do you know him? I didn't tell you his last name when I slipped up back there."
"That's because I knew him before I even met you. And also, you haven't even told me your name, boy. So spill."
"It's Killua, thanks." She's rude for almost dying.
"Your welcome."
Killua coughed on his own spit and Angel sat back, leaning her minuscule amount of weight on the couch. Her arms folded over her chest and teal eyes closed with a sigh. "Look, Killua, I don't know what you want from me, but I had nothing to do with it. It was all your friend's doing and nothing more."
"It?"
Her brow rose but she did not look at him. "You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?"
"No, but I'd appreciate it if you could inform me then." She giggled when he hissed out his words, trying to be as rude as she was. But he was losing and it was silly to watch him fumble and try. "What is this it you are talking about?"
"I'm talking about that big Meth raid down town that your previous friend was a part of. That's how I got caught up in the mess, because I just so happened to be walking near by and bang, I'm stuck in a situation I shouldn't be in. And then there was-"
She stopped, hearing Killua's weird, dry-heaving sounds escape his throat and she rose; very well prepared to grab a bucket if necessary, but he waved her off and she sunk back to her seat, eyes narrowed and alert. "What's wrong with you, kid?"
"It's nothing."
When the hell did I become so weak to have all these stinking panic attacks?
Killua flips on a switch in his head; the switch that defied all-pain, all shred of his anxiety in its entirety and instantly his face lit up in a smile. An incredibly fake smile that pressed too hard on the upper parts of his cheek bones and made his jaw ache uncomfortably around the edges. It hurt, but Killua wasn't going to let his destructive emotions make the better of him. The earlier flashbacks of imagining Gon in all those terrible scenarios high-lighted in police articles was hauntingly real and as much as he didn't want to believe some may actually be true; he couldn't just deny the inevitable.
The only thing he continued to deny was it happening, much too soon before he could stop it.
Am I running out of time?
"What raid?" He spoke up as the woman's face was still set in a firm line, concerned but calculative and waiting on him to speak. She nodded.
"I told you. It was some big Meth raid down town in Yorkshin. I was visiting on the pretense of business work and when I was walking back to my hotel that evening, I got caught up in that giant piss poor excuse for an attack on some Meth lab."
"And Gon was there?"
"Did you not see the photo of me being held hostage by him or did you get the photo-shopped version of me with huge tits and a giant ass, looking awfully pretty for the camera and ready to fuck?"
Holy shit-
"No, I-"
"Of course he was there. He was the one who was in league with the person orchestrating it, genius. Some friend you have."
Killua bit down on his bottom lip, tasting copper, and grimaced; a glare piercing his crystalline eyes with that look. A look to kill. But she didn't recoil at it, no, by all means was she even more smug and smirking with confidence and Killua wanted nothing more then to rip off her mouth and break it to pieces.
"What?" She asked as he shook his head, reminding himself that this was his only lead and he shouldn't kill them. "Did I hit a nerve?"
Just not yet at least.
"Aren't you treating Gon a little harsh?"
"Well the kid did try to kill me. I would think I have some right to my rude behavior, don't you think?"
No.
"I guess."
Angel's cheek twitched, tongue pushing to make it bulge out slightly and she brushed aside bangs to display her own set of blue eyes, much darker and bolder then Killua's set of translucent ones. "Look, Killua. I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm not really all that fond of what happened there. So don't expect me to act all nice and friendly about it, either."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"I don't see why not." She shrugged a shoulder, resting all her weight into the cushion against her back with a finger pressed to her lips. She hummed quietly and shut her eyes as Killua drew in a breath on instinct and listened. "Here I go, then. You better be listening because I'm not going to repeat myself."
"Sure."
Angel nodded resolutely and began.
"Yes. Yes. No." Angel had sighed against her phone for the tenth time that night to her boss. It was a moist night, the air nothing but sticky and slimy on her skin and she was thankful for the loose garments she wore that kept the humidity from feeding off her skin like a leech. "I told you, it will be done tomorrow. Yes, I'm serious." There was some unintelligible chattering on the other end and then, "No. Okay. Fine, I'll do it. Talk to you later, sir."
She cut the call with a thankful smile and shoved her phone back into her pocket, hoping it didn't have to come out from there anytime soon that day.
"Where the heck am I?" Stopping suddenly, Angel realized then that was when she had wandered into unfamiliar territory – A part of Yorkshin she didn't recognize. This was no where near her hotel's location, that was certain. "Well, crap."
"I'm never getting back to eat, am I?" She drawled to herself, clasping both hands on the straps of her purse and trudged forward because it was all she could do in her predicament. It appeared to be a forbidden part of town; where the streets were dark, the streets damp, and the buildings ransacked beyond repair. There were homeless strays abound, lurking in the cracks and crevices just black enough to hide their presences and their images. Like shadowy blots in an already darkened world; lonely and broken with no where to go. Angel pitied them; sharing the same sentiment in a past best forgotten, but she couldn't afford to stay and amass in the guilt they all wore like dishonorable badges.
Better not linger here too long.
She slung the purse firmly over her shoulder, patted at the inside of it where her protection lay safe and waiting, and moved forward with more purpose in her strides. There were eyes on her, following her all the way until she weaved herself a stupid path straight into a dead-end alleyway with but a small, barely-standing shack sat, beckoning with its foreboding after-glow. There was a burn pit off to the side, dead vegetation lining the outer ring of the porch, and several patches of stained soil trailing near the back.
The strong, rancid chemical odor radiating from the house like a noxious cloud; however, was the worst of it all.
"Where the hell is this place-?" Angel blinked, once, and suddenly the cool steel blade of a knife pressed to the underside of her jaw, right across her neck.
"Don't move."
Her sapphire eyes darted to the briefest flash of light coming from inside the shack's boarded-in window nearby then fell on the blurry outline of the person aside her, so much shorter and inky in the pitch-dark space they were confined in.
That Angel was being held at knife point in.
"What-" She found her voice, forgoing the fact her use of voice forced the blade to draw blood from her skin, and her hands squeezed until they turned blue around the strap of her purse, "-are you doing?"
"You're now a hostage."
"A hostage. I see. And why am I your hostage?"
"Be quiet." The knife pushed harder onto her throat, ripping a pained gasp from her and the scent of her own blood filled her nostrils, probably oozing thick and hot now. It tickled at her skin as it slid down into the opening of her button-down blouse and she shivered. "And don't move."
"Kind of hard to do with you pressing a knife to my throat."
BANG.
A gun shot went off from behind and even the person holding her at death's end jumped in place, like herself, as her feet wobbled and her heart back flipped strongly in her chest; a gasp bubbling in her throat past the gush of blood there. She froze, instantly in place, and the knife started wavering a little with the others lack of confidence after the random shot. If she had just a few seconds; with her black-belt karate skills, she could temporarily incapacitate this person and escape.
But the approaching footsteps and another round of two gunshots made her think otherwise; wait out and save her skin for at least a little bit longer, if possible.
"Nice job, Gon. You got the perfect candidate."
"You think so?" 'Gon' as called, beamed, and Angel recognized the childish quality to it and the unmistakable lack of age and experience there right off the bat. "She was just walking all by herself and seemed like the perfect target. So I really did pick good?"
I'm being held hostage by a mere kid. What luck.
"Of course. She'll do perfectly." The other voice started; seeming more deeper then Gon's and a little rough around the edges, masked by a hoarse, grating tone that gave them a scratchy throat sound. The knife was pulled away and all-too-soon was a thick, coarse rope snagging her by across the mouth, shoved forcefully into the space of her mouth and teeth and tied so roughly against the back of her head that the pressure made her jaw ache. She tightened her grip around the tough texture there and made a move to pry it off when her hands were wrenched back by a much stronger force and rope was tied there, too, and effectively trapping her into yet another bad situation.
I have the shittiest luck.
"Move." Angel was shoved and she tripped over her own feet, stumbling and almost falling to the pavement below when a boy rushed forward and caught her with hands that shouldn't have been that careful for helping assist in her capture. It was a boy no more then in his early teens when her sight flashed to his image; spiked onyx air aimed impossibly straight and high, bronzed skin like polished brass, hazelnut eyes glowing like pools of rich honey, and a facial expression that spoke immeasurable levels of softness. Of kindness.
And flashes of anger there, too; claws and talons flailing out in the background that made her recoil and shrink back away from this random act of humility when it was hiding this behind it.
It was scary.
"Gon, get up. We're moving."
"Hai!"
The teen beside her got to his feet before she did and nodded in an overly enthusiastic way and grinned, ear-to-ear as Angel bit down on the rope, frowning.
What a miserable excuse for a kid.
Following the mass of bodies that appeared behind her – At least ten or more of them ranging in age, gender, and size from big and busty to tall, lanky and limbs that looked stripped of all their meat and faces gaunt and hollow, lifeless – marched up towards the shack ahead she had stumbled onto, her in tow held by gun-point now instead of knife. The cool metallic barrel pressed to her temple. It actually felt nice on her pounding, feverish head but she knew better then to lead into it; make her look like she wanted this.
Because she most definitely did not.
The foremost teenager; some scrawny boy that looked rather hawkish with a hooked nose and unkempt dark hair that hadn't seen a shower in decades, rapped his fist loudly against the door and shouted. "Hey, old man. Open up before we bust it down and kill your fucking ass."
There was some muffling and a lock clicking but nothing more.
"Fucking ass wipe, that fucktard." The leader hissed, eyes narrowing and gestured his right hand out without even looking. The gun pushing on her head clicked as her eyes widened in realization; the revolver snapping as it readied itself to fire. There was some quiet whispers and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gon swallowing so hard his Adam's apple bobbed repeatedly up and down. She did not move. "Open up now or I'll kill this bitch and blow her fucking brains all over your door step. I'm sure the cops would have a field day listening to your stupid ass excuse for that."
Somebody else flipped open a phone and started dialing something. They held it up on speaker phone when it began to ring before the operator's voice for 911 sounded, feminine and concerned.
"Hello, 911. What's your emergency?"
The door creaked open instantaneously as did the lead teen's face split in a smirk. The voice cut off on speaker phone when the call ended and the elderly man that appeared; wrinkled and tired with patches of white like a halo on his head, sighed forlornly at the crew waiting at his doorstep.
"I told you, kid. I don't have any left."
"I don't fucking care, old shit. You're lying so stop hiding it already and fess up. Where is it?" The dark-haired youth said, raising a gun to eye level and grinned. Several others also pulled up hand guns – How the hell did kids get their hands on guns holy shit – and all aimed them in the man's direction, clicking off the safety so it was ready to fire. Angel spotted one even in Gon's hands; the kid with the sunshine appearance cast behind an ugly little cloud, but he was simply holding it at his side and nothing more with a face set in a thin line of torn emotion.
Grunting, the old man shook his head and waved his hands for emphasis. "I'm not telling you, so shoot me already if you're going to act that way. But then you'll kill off your only good drug supplier."
"Tck." The leader scoffed and didn't hesitate to fire point blank range, blasting a lead bullet straight through the old man's left arm. Crimson liquid sprayed out from the wound and several of those standing in the forefront turned their heads, faces painted red in the old man's blood. He cried out, shrieking madly, and dropped to his knees to clutch wildly at his wound to stop the bleeding. A few people inhaled sharply; all their breaths mixing in one, and Angel saw Gon shudder, turn his scarlet painted face sideways and avoid staring too long. Even she, too, couldn't stare without wanting to throw up.
This is horrible.
Using the barrel of his gun, the lead boy knocked over the old man sobbing in agony, and the small group filed inside without sparing a glance back. Angel's eyes darted to the elderly man's side and muffled noises behind her gag, but he ignored her and she was shoved onward to keep walking with two guns pressed coldly to her back. Guilt ate at her insides like a blood-thirsty beast and tears stung beneath her lashes, wishing she could cry as if it would be a way to resolve this conflict she was thrust into.
But it would do no good for her to cry, so she sucked it up and trailed with the herd through bleak, barely furnished rooms until they kicked open a door that lead to a set of pitch-black stairs and went down. Three members; the one in the front, middle, and rear all lit up lighters to illuminate the darkness and proceeded down single-file. Angel figured she was somewhere in the middle, squished between a frail-looking girl with ashen skin and expression laced with malevolent poison and Gon; still quiet and subdued with his semi-automatic pistol held tightly to his chest.
It must have been at least what felt like an hour but long, drawn-out minutes instead of listening to the sounds of hushed, rugged breathing and hard foot falls echoing around the tight corridor. Somebody coughed and a loud bang spit light in their faces when the door was bust open by the forefront kid's foot, temporarily blinding them as they stepped into the basement. Angel shied away, squinting her eyes enough not to shut them like most others, and she gasped at the sight that awaited her when she stepped into it.
A Clandestine chemistry lab. (An illegal drug laboratory she's read about in books.)
There was clutter as far as the eye can see. Tables and shelves and things filled up every inch of the room's space capacity and there were all sorts of miscellaneous objects strung about haphazardly that she dreaded the people who had to clean up this mess. There was packages from prescription pills scattered on tables, spilled to the floor, and empty containers from various liquids like antifreeze, paint thinner, starter fluids for cars, Episom salt, and acetone – The list of things she recognized was endless. Containers upon containers ranging from all types; gas and stove, camping equipment, automobile fluid containers, glass containers and soda bottles filled with chemical deposits, etc. There were bottles attached together with duct tape and rubber tubing. Coolers and cold containers were piled high with baggies and chemical items and more. Cat little boxes sat in corners filled with old residue and white powdery gunk caked just about everything in the room; from the walls to the objects, to the two lone people in the room wearing masks and rags with wide panic-stricken eyes glowing with fear when the teenage group approached, guns aimed in the air.
This is so wrong!
Hardly able to breathe past the toxic fumes predating the tiny, cramped space; Angel gagged and tore her gaze away. There was some blurred shouting from the two young women; possibly pleading for their lives, and she missed the gunshots that hopefully ended their days painlessly and quick. The teenagers who brought her in, all rushed out, scattering as they began grabbing things left and right to stuff in the many backpacks and trash bags they carried on them. She peeked from the corner of her vision, seeing Gon not too far picking through an ice barrel and dropping big bags of white powder into his backpack; his face blotched with dried red blood and amber eyes dark, vacant. Inhuman.
There were a million thoughts racing through her head and although now left alone and with the perfect means to an escape while they were distracted; she couldn't take that first step to freedom. Because to break free and run for it would give them every right to shoot down the no-longer-needed hostage of theirs. Now with the elder man injured and his two women helpers (or hostages too, who knows) out for the count, what was stopping them from killing her, too?
As the childish mind was consumed in the need to sate its desire for drugs and addiction, she was forgotten. But who knew how much given time that left her in the background, just an afterthought ready to be extinguished?"
Angel regretted ever stepping foot in Yorkshin on the premise of appeasing her asshole of a boss.
She inched back, eyes darting side to side wondering if she could possibly cut the binds on her arms loose, when the teenagers suddenly rushed forward at some alarming shouts echoing from upstairs. Since the building was so loosely built and falling apart; their voices were easy to hear, easy to read. There was more teenagers approaching. Lots of them.
"Go, go, go!"
"It's them!"
"They're coming!"
"Run for it!"
"Shit! Everybody get out!"
There was so many words flying around her head, that Angel was helpless to not just fall into them. She was grabbed by a bronzed hand, tugged along as the thunder-some foot steps of the group around begun stampeding up the steps, all with guns and knives and weapons in their hands and bags slung to the capacity with drugs over their shoulders.
It was then she felt like those portrayed in the movies of the soldiers going into battle; into war, as they were jostled in the herd's direction with hearts heavy in nervous preparation and anxiety the anchor that kept their feet traveling on the correct path. They wielded their only savior, and if that savior were to fail them, then they would surely face death soon.
She was shoved in the mass ascending, guided by the spiky-haired blur of Gon from earlier holding onto her wrist in a death-vice. It took them much less time to reach the top then it did the bottom; running at such a fast pace, that she tripped over the last step once it was breached. It was then her body was falling over and slammed sideways by the recoil of Gon and another teenage girl's body flying into her from a bullet to the head.
The resulting collision caused the three bodies to shatter the shelving unit next to the kitchen sink and for half of the contents in Gon's backpack to spill, including a few other personal items. A card flashed in her vision and a quick slash across her wrists found her arm binds released and her hands flying out towards the card laying there before she picked it up automatically at the idea of using it as a weapon to cut the rope from her mouth.
She was about to start chopping into it when Gon got to his feet, the click of his gun loud enough for even her to hear in this orchestrated madness around.
"You better run, miss. Things around here are going to get bad soon. Run, while you still can." Gon said above her where he stood, gun and knife in either hand. There was a bad look in his eyes; his face black and ugly underneath the shadows showing there. Nearby, she saw teenagers fighting left and right, bullets flying and knife blades clashing as people were screaming at the top of their lungs in one giant muddy wave of sound. Outside seemed much worse; there was almost non-stop gun shots firing off one right after the other and she could only imagine how the hell this chaos even came to be in the first place.
She muffled something behind her mouth rope and glanced up, Gon frowning down at her.
There was a sunken look to his appearance in the same way the angry beast from earlier blossomed that feeling in her belly; in a knowing gesture that made her cringe and shrink back with fear like a scared animal ready for its impeding demise.
But it never did come and Gon never bared his fangs to her, simply shutting his eyes and drawing in a breath as a battlefield of blood shed spread like a contagion. It was sucking up the small scab of what should have been a home yet was nothing more then but a food source for the starved and the wicked – The drug addicts. And Angel shut her eyes too, letting the tears fall unbidden, free like she wished they were. Because freedom was nothing like how she thought it used to be, not after this and surely freedom was nothing what they expected to be.
Not anymore.
Angel muffled unintelligibly behind her gag, blue eyes darting up to voice her own thoughts there when Gon took off abruptly, his knife flaying through another boy's arm and cutting the muscle so cleanly that the blood flew in one direction. It splattered into her face, the hot bubbling liquid stinging her eyes, her nose, her very skin. She did not blink. The boy cried out in pain, clutching his wound, and fired two rounds from his revolver. The first bullet missed and the second clipped Gon in the shoulder, eliciting a hurting hiss, before his knife came shooting forward and hacked across the others throat.
He dropped dead in front of her, eyes wide and frozen in time and Angel screamed mutely into the rope around her mouth, thankful for its presence.
"Sorry." Gon didn't look back at her, blade dripping red and flipping his gun around in the other. "But this is how it's got to go. Survival of the fittest right?"
Gold locked eyes with sapphires and Angel's heart dropped in her chest, pitiful.
Gon was partly smiling, half his blood-soaked face twisted up and contorted; driven into madness, as the other side frowned, tears falling from one eye and the muscles in his jaw twitched painfully so.
No. This can't be real. This can't be.
As much as she wanted to scream out, change everything, she couldn't and Gon waved himself off with a laugh, diving head first into the war raging outside.
Angel sat there helpless, defeated and an emotional wreck in no less than a few hours, her sight never leaving that door he left open. It presented her with the perfect view of what was happening outside; young and once-innocent adolescent teenagers shooting and slaughtering each other. A turf-war over territory; or in this case fighting over drug suppliers. Her eyes flashed to the card in hand, its glossy image directing her downward to its soft, calm appearance wanting to soothe her bitter tasting thoughts; her acid-drowned heart.
Gon Freecs. Hunter License. No Star-Hunter.
She clutched the tiny piece of plastic to her chest as her eyes shut and even though she was screaming, all she could hear was the sounds of gun shots.
Gun shots and death.
This isn't real.
This is Hell.
"..."
Killua stared, slack-jawed and speechless in Angel's general direction. She shrugged a shoulder, face an emotionless mask, and she leaned her head back to rest its weight on the couch cushion so she wouldn't have to keep staring at his stupid expression the entire time.
"What's your problem? There's my story. I'm done."
"..."
"That's such a nice answer. You know, maybe I should kick you out-"
"No." Killua interrupted, holding up his hand. Trying to recollect his thoughts was hard. After hearing that entire tale; he wasn't sure how to think or feel honestly. "Just give me a second. It's a lot to take in."
Angel shrugged again but said nothing as Killua sighed, closing his eyes and head bowed in concentration.
Gon was in a drug gang.
Gon was involved in a hostage situation.
Gon was a part of a Meth raid.
Gon was a killer.
Killua clutched at the sides of his skull, slowly bending forward until his forehead brushed the tips of his knees and stiffened like a statue, cold and hard; lifeless again.
Flip on the switch.
What else did he do? How many people has he killed? Who else has he hurt and attacked and-?
He didn't want to think about it. There wasn't enough contents in his stomach to throw up but it was rumbling like it was ready for a second go and he was not. He did not need to think about it.
"Tell me about Meth."
"What-?"
"Tell me about this drug, Meth." Killua repeated, keeping himself curled up while sitting. Angel blinked. He did not move. "Please." The snowy haired teenager added, as an extra precaution. He needed desperately for something to distract him. Anything. Please.
"What do you want to know about it?"
"Everything. Just tell me everything you know."
"Fine." Angel sighed, voice agitated and vibrating against the back of her mouth. It was enough accounting her tale in such excruciating detail but constantly keep reminding her of the very drug that ruined her career; well, she wanted to avoid it at all costs. Her boss fired her after that little incident and since then she'd been living quietly out of hands reach. And out of her spouse's reach, too, just to be safe. Separated and alone. It was a troublesome life Meth had caused and the nightmares still plagued her like an incurable disease.
Angel wasn't sure she'd ever be free and sane again, since that incident.
And here was this mysterious boy, showing up on her doorstep and nagging her to retell this story; this nightmare of hers, memory to word. She didn't want to do it, per say, but there was just something about him that reminded her of that Gon kid – how he was forced into a situation he didn't want to be in, but was doing it simply on the pretense of survival and nothing else. Although, she could see the way this kid was being affected – She knew the way one's voice wavered and the quiet, lurking pain withdrawn behind all those layers of denial like a second shell – so she figured it'd be best to comply.
More so for her sake, then his probably.
Besides, it'd help her, too, to keep herself distracted from the horrors of life, albeit temporary.
Clearing her throat, Angel recited off the top of her head all that she had studied, rehearsed, and dreaded in that order. "Meth or Methamphetamine is a synthetic version of adrenaline, a naturally occurring hormone the body produces in tiny increments when under stress. But unlike an adrenaline rush which doesn't last long, Meth can last in a person's body for six to eight hours. It's got code-names like Tina, crystal, crank, tweak, speed, ice, Chrissy, chalk, etc. Technically, it's been sold as a prescription drug known as Desoxyn for the treatment of ADHD and obesity."
Killua nodded to show he was listening but did not budge.
"However, it's more often cooked and made in makeshift labs to be sold illegally as a powder or rock for people to use. They snort, smoke, eat, dissolve and inject Meth. The rock form is actually a crystal which is what you get the name Crystal Meth coined from and is smoked. Meth binges are known as 'tweaking'. When tweaked, addicts can stay awake for days or even weeks at a time. People who go on these binges either end up being arrested or going to the hospital because of psychotic behavior, since the body is no longer able to function and crashes. People who take it say that they're instantly hooked, because the drug is that potent and dangerous."
"A lot of times, Meth is called the 'club drug' or 'sex drug' because it acts as a stimulant or an aphrodisiac. It makes the person feel euphoric, intense, and powerful and drives them to do obsessive behaviors which often results in them having a lot of sex for instance. It can let them keep having sex for days nonstop without an orgasm, and keep them from sleeping, eating, or coming down from the high for two to three days. It's even better if the user has Viagra or Cialis on the side, too. Or so I heard."
"Like most drugs, Meth makes the user's brain release large amounts of Dopamine which is associated with feelings of pleasure. So when you first start using the drug, you feel really good. But the more you use it and the more you ingest, the more you start to lose your sense of pleasure and the receptors in your brain that produce Dopamine stop working. In a condition known as Anhedonia, Meth addicts eventually lose their ability to feel pleasure. Since they can't feel good anymore, this leads to depression and hopelessness until eventually it can grow into paranoia and aggression. They end up becoming psychotic eventually and the rest is self-explanatory."
Angel picked at her teeth, hating how clinical she was getting. Why the hell did I research this so much again? Killua was still not moving, silent, and she sighed. She kind of wished he was talking or something so she wouldn't feel so alone herself discussing this. Discussing the drug again.
"In some instances, people who abuse Meth develop problems like 'Meth mouth' where they get severe tooth decay and tooth loss because the drug makes their mouth very dry and grind their teeth. Meth also dries out their skin which makes the person think they've got 'bugs crawling under their skin' so they constantly scratch and itch at themselves in a behavior known as 'picking'. You can tell a lot of someone who's used it a lot by the self-inflicted wounds and infections on their bodies. Otherwise, convulsions, stroke, heart attack, organ damage, malnutrition, psychosis, etc; can be common health problems, too."
"Otherwise, the drug is very dangerous. It's so addictive that it can take years for a person to ever return to a semi-normal life again, but they most definitely won't ever be the same way they were before. I've read and heard of the horror stories of the people who've tried and attempted Meth rehab only to slip and fall because the dependence is so strong that they can't fight it. I think it's more psychological then anything." She tapped her head, lulling her skull around lazily in emphasis. "It messes with their head, makes them have hallucinations and crazy, psychotic thoughts. It makes people violent and insane for the drug and they feel like they can't live without it. It's like that with every drug."
"Methamphetamine is it's own living Hell."
Killua swallowed loudly and Angel flinched at the weird retching sound he made, covering his mouth, before he swung upright and was smiling, big and proudly so her stomach twisted with nausea. There was so much falseness behind that smile, that if she felt strong enough she would have just went over there and smacked it right off of there. She couldn't stand looking at it too long, or how wrong it felt in general, and she looked to the side biting on her lip.
"That's all I got. There. That better be enough so help me-"
"Thanks."
What?
She looked back up and Killua wasn't smiling anymore. He wasn't even frowning but his face was placid, neutral, and almost cold.
It felt dead.
"Thanks." Killua said twice, rising to his feet and clutching a hand to his chest, the other shoved in his pocket and it was clearly shaking in its hiding spot. He was holding back something and for that, Angel was kind of glad. She was on the verge of breaking herself and to see another kid; like earlier, shatter – She wasn't sure if she'd make it out this time, alive and unscathed. "Thank you, for telling me your story. For telling me about the drug. For everything, really."
"Your welcome, kid." Angel scoffed, shrinking back in her seat a moment with hands lax behind her head. She paused, took in a breath, then stood herself. "Before you go, I have something for you."
Killua cocked his head to the side and she felt his sapphire eyes follow her footsteps like a hawk all the way to the nearby cabinet. She tinkered with the first drawer, reached in through the mess there, and pulled out two things. As he drew closer, she turned and set a small hand gun and plastic card in his awaiting hands and Killua gasped, blue eyes bigger then dinner plates.
Gon's Hunter license and gun.
"That was your friend's. He dropped his card the first time he rescued me and the second time, when things were quieting down, he gave me that gun to use for protection when I was making my escape through the smaller crowd still leftover fighting. I think you should take them, since you knew him so well."
"Take this." Gon had said, placing his gun into her hands where Angel sat, curled up in the furthest corner, out of sight. Outside, the gunshots had finally stopped, but there were still shrill screams and shrieks of people in pain, people dying, and they wouldn't stop anytime soon she bet. "It'll protect you."
"Why are you doing this?" Angel choked out past the blood in her throat, from the deep gash in her throat still bleeding faintly but not as bad now as it was before. Her hand was pressed to it, keeping her bodily fluids from draining her dry, leaving her an empty cask and ready for burial. "Why?"
"Because." Gon smiled and she hated that smile, also, "You should live."
"Why..?"
"Live." He was pulling away and she wanted to reach out, desperately she did, but her arms were frozen, cradling the gun to her chest anyway like a lifeline. Her only one left, because without it she'd have no strength otherwise to keep on going without it. "Live and don't give up."
"Why!" Angel shouted out, coughing when the strain clawed at her insides and she wanted to keep screaming but lost the ability to do so. She felt so weak, so helpless, and defeated. Surrounded by death and decay and blood; like a real life horror movie on this was real life. This was reality, a side of the coin she never wanted to see rear it's ugly head when flipped over. The card on the table she revealed, regretting ever choosing it out of so many other options. All of these were times she loathed; times she wished she could take back with every fiber of her being and never look back upon.
But here they were and she wasn't going anywhere without them.
"Because. We can't stay on the losing end forever, you know? And it's not really fair for a person who wasn't really even involved with something to be forced to fight for survival. It's only fair you get a chance, too."
"That doesn't make any sense-"
"Does anything ever make sense?" Gon laughed, rubbing at his neck and took off as his knife flashed, full on display, leaving Angel to cry out quietly behind him, gun in hand.
And no longer so lost as she thought she was.
"Take it." Angel nudged Killua's hands closed so he was forced to grasp the card and the gun against his palms; hoping against hope that maybe all her feelings, her memories, and her desires would transfer between them. There was a plea in her voice, a quiet, struggling need to weep, but she kept strong for their sake. For the sake of the only person, that despite the odds, still shed some light on her blacked-out void of a life. Perhaps then, this kid could be that other boy's light, in his time of need?
Every fire needs just a little bit of assistance to spark, in truth.
She hoped it would rekindle that tiny flame she witnessed; giving the hope she was granted and spreading it around, and just maybe, things would be okay again.
"Take it, please. And live. Live Killua. Help Gon. Help your friend. By whatever means, please. He helped me. So please, help him. He needs you."
Killua didn't look up, only nodding and a strangled giggle left him. Angel frowned.
Gon needs me.
He still didn't look up when his next words came out, more so a promise to himself then anybody really.
He did, promise, after all.
And Gon, still, was his friend, wasn't he?
Maybe there is hope then.
"Okay." He said. "I will."
Angel smiled, this time for real, and so did Killua in turn.
"I'll help Gon."