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“It’s okay,” I said. My tongue still felt weird, all numb and heavy. I twisted it around in my mouth, and it tickled my teeth. I blinked a couple of times before looking back at my neighbor. “I got the helm. I’m all good.”
Did trains have a helm, or was that just boats? I laughed.
Krazy Katie covered her eyes with one hand. I could see her chest rising and falling as she took long breaths. I started counting slowly in my head but quickly forgot the number.
“Left the station,” she said quietly. “No engineer. Kicked in the caboose. Nothing but tracks.”
She turned in slow motion, and I watched vapor trails of her dull blue T-shirt swirl around the room as she left. I heard the window slide shut and then silence.
“I’m all good,” I whispered.
There was no reply.
Even though my arms and legs were way too content to be bothered with moving, I shoved myself out of bed anyway. My rig was sitting on the kitchen table, all ready to go. I was still pretty high, but I could feel darkness closing in around me, and I didn’t want it.
I wanted warmth and happiness.
Plastic tube, arm slap, needle prick.
“Like a fucking pro.”
I lay my head on the table as the fluid sensations rippled through me. Tria didn’t matter. She’d forgive me in time. In fact, she was probably already over it. How could she not be?
“I’m good. Really, I am.”
I was never one to lie to myself, but it was getting easier all the time.
Chapter 2—Seek the Help
My throat was dry, and I knew I should probably get myself a drink or something, but getting up to go to the cabinet with the cups and the sink with the water seemed like a shitload of effort. My legs were killing me, and my stomach hurt. I couldn’t manage to lie down comfortably any more—I was too damn hot—but sitting and standing didn’t feel good, either.
I had forgotten how shitty I would feel after coming down from a bang.
“There’s a damn good way of fixing that shit,” I muttered. “Get it? Fixing? Ha!”
Everything was still lying out on the table from the day before. I hauled myself onto the chair and grabbed the rig cap and the cup of water I had used to mix the heroin to prepare it for the needle. I’d gone through all the needles I bought from Max. I should probably go find the weird religious dude who always hung out by the food bank offering clean needles, but that was too fucking far away.
Maybe later.
The needle I had was only used by me, anyway. I did haul my ass over to the sink to wash it out a bit better, at least. I even made myself take a sip of water though it tasted nasty.
Back at the table, I looked over the paraphernalia and tried not to let myself feel physically ill from the familiarity. It was so fucking easy to go back to this—too easy. Quick stop at Max’s place, throw down the cash I had, come on back here, and forget the world around me. Money was already an issue, but there were ways of dealing with that, too.
I remembered the chick on the couch with Max and her offers of fellatio for a quick hit. He’d take her up on it, too. I knew for a fact he went both ways but refused to think about or remember anything like that. I ran my tongue over my dry lips and swallowed back the taste in my throat before going back to my task.
I got the needle set up to go, wrapped my arm, and positioned the tip at the vein.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I swallowed again—hard. The end of the needle lay against my arm, and I felt the slight sting as it started to pierce the skin. My breath came out in short pants as I clenched my fist, forcing the vein up.
“She’d hate this.”
I grabbed the needle and slammed it down on the kitchen table before dropping my head into my hands. I was fucking talking to myself, and if that didn’t make me crazy, I wasn’t sure what did. My stomach burned and my hands started shaking. I wanted to throw up but knew I wouldn’t be able to.
“I don’t want to feel like this,” I heard myself whisper. “I don’t want to feel anything.”
A weird sound came out of my throat, but I didn’t know what it meant.
