RPOV
I shot the syringe up my right arm and felt the heroin enter my system, I sighed in sweet relief, I felt calm, everything was okay now, everything was alright. James, who had finally stopped yelling at the wall, came in and snatched the rest of the smack out of my bag. "Hey, I paid for that shit." I say.
"Whatever." He says and fills up his own syringe. He shoots it up and begins to kiss me.
"Get away from me," I say against his tongue which he is trying to put in my mouth, I resist the urge to gag and stand up, then the lightheadedness makes me regret it so I sit down again.
"Hey," James says, getting angry, "You're my girl, you do what I tell you."
"No, I do what I fucking want." I snap.
"Bitch your on thin ice."
"Fuck off James, aren't you supposed to be looking for a job? Your pot is crap, selling that shit isn't gonna be enough money."
"If you would just go back to tricks we wouldn't have to worry about money." He grumbles, and I lose it.
The heroin is muted by my anger and in a second I have him in a chokehold. "I ain't ever goin back to tricks you hear me?"
He escapes from my grip, which is not as strong as it was in my academy days from too many needles, and back-slaps me. I punch him as hard as I can but my reflexes are slowed and soon I am face down on the ground. I take a deep breath and get back up, "I'm going out." I say and slam the door behind me.
The New York smell of homeless and cigarettes hits me immediately when I get outside, I walk away from the building and head towards central park, where someone who can get me more smack has to be. The fight with James had killed my buzz, and now I needed to get high even more. Not to mention the looks on my old friends' faces when they came into my apartment, if you asked me if I cared what Lissa and Christian thought about me, I would say I didn't give a single fuck. And this is true. I don't care what those two think about me. The thing that tears me apart when they visit is the person who stands behind them, who never meets my eyes and doesn't seem to care one way or another if I'm throwing my life away or not. That's the face that makes me want to shoot arsenic up my arm instead of heroin. I've reached the park and I see Tony about 100 feet away from me, he spots me and grins. I scowl back and approach him.
"Back for more eh' sweetheart?" He says, obviously on something, he grabs my waist and tries to pull me into him, "You just can't get enough of me can you?"
I pull away from his grip and take out my wallet, I didn't have time for this. "2 grams." This is enough to widen even his eyes.
"Didn't I just give you—"
"Do you want my money or not?" I snap. He nods, I give him the money, and he slips the h in my bag. The deal is done. I walk away, and start to head home, on the way I stop at a liquor store and buy a bottle of jack. When I get home, James is passed out, as I hoped he would be, I grab a clean needle and head up to the roof. I shoot a little bit of the heroin and leave the rest in the syringe. When I finish off the jack I shoot a little more. I don't know how long it takes, but eventually I am out of smack and high as a kite. I feel amazing, this is the most amazing high I have ever had, I didn't know I could feel this good. This is better than sex, better than Moroi endorphins, better than life. I hope to feel this way my whole life. My hand even begin to shake from the intensity, I am covered in this high when I realize that my hands shaking is not normal. I realize that my vision is beginning to spot. I realize that I'm in trouble. I realize that I could die. And I don't quite know how to feel about that.