Chapter 1—Lose the Control
In my head, there was nothing.
No want, no need, no pain.
I was just…happy.
Why wouldn’t I be? I didn’t have any reason to feel sad. If fact, everything was fine. The sun was shining through the window and over the part of the couch where my legs were draped—warm and soft. The light danced around on my skin. I could feel it intensely, but it wasn’t harsh or burning. I stared at it with a big smile on my face as the rays crept up my thighs and then spilled over my stomach.
Everything was different this time. When I had relapsed before, there was all this guilt and withdrawal. Not this time. This time, there wasn’t any downside. I wasn’t junk sick in the morning. I’d even worked last night. I fought. I won. I earned enough cash to cover next month’s rent and more junk. Yolanda didn’t even notice I was high.
I was pretty sure it was last night anyway. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
When recent memories briefly flashed through my mind, I could push them away easily. Even images of Tria’s hair around her shoulders and the way she smelled when I had held her tightly against my chest were easy to ignore.
Everything we had done together no longer mattered. The memories of the dinners she had cooked for us, the walks we had taken to the little tree, and the way she’d run her fingers through my hair were irrelevant. It didn’t matter that she had been so beautiful, so sweet, and so accepting of me.
It didn’t matter that I’d screwed up in the most profound of ways. It didn’t matter that I’d put her life in danger—something I swore I’d never do to another woman—and that I’d run out on her when she told me she was pregnant. Tria’s stubbornness and lack of understanding about the danger she was in didn’t matter. Coming back to the apartment and realizing that she had left me didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except the next fix.
I blinked, and the room was dark.
Rolling over, I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, snickered to myself, and stood up. There was still a bit of smack left on the kitchen table. I grabbed a new needle and got everything prepared. I was going to have to run out and get some more before too long. What I had wasn’t going to last more than another day.
Tingling in my arm started as soon as I pulled out the needle. The sensation rippled up to my shoulder and then focused itself in the center of my chest before radiating outward. Peace filled my mind and my limbs. I raised my arms and tilted my head back. The dingy, off-white ceiling was beautiful—like eggshells. I wondered if baby chicks would fall out if I broke through it.
My own laugher echoed through the empty room.
*****
“Come on, Max!”
“I told ya, dude—no handouts.”
“It’s not a handout!” I grabbed hold of my hair and tugged on it a bit. I was starting to get shaky. “It’s just…a little time. That’s all I need. Cut me some slack. I work tonight, and I’ll have the cash for you then. I’ll have enough for now and more for later, too.”
“No can do, bud.”
“Motherfucker!” I stormed out of the run-down shack and decided to walk all the way to Feet First. I didn’t have any money for bus fare, and even if I did, I wouldn’t waste it. I had more important things to buy.
I kept my head focused on the ground in front of me. I counted steps and tried to ignore the way my stomach cramped up. If Max had just given me a quick, tiny fix, I would have been fine. Now I was going to have to try to work like this.
“You’re late!” Yolanda started yelling at me as soon as I walked in the door. “It’s fucking challenge night! You were supposed to be here an hour ago so people could size you up!”
I did my best to ignore her. I shoved past her without a word and locked the locker room door behind me so I could change. Yolanda knocked a couple times, yelled a few choice words through the crack, and then gave up.
I breathed deeply as I stood on the concrete ramp in my taped-up feet. I stretched my arms a little, and tried not to let the screams from the crowd echo through my head too much. They were so loud. When my song came on, the noise got even worse.