Page 2 of Queen of Ruin

“Man, fuck you. I’m tryna offer you the best night of your life.”

So this is about drugs. It always is with Tech. Five years clean and he’s still trying to shove a needle back in my arm. My Narcotics Anonymous group would tell me to block his number and remove temptation, but I can’t.

We’ve been friends since we were teenagers. He was there for me when my brother died and we took our first hit together. I can’t shake the weight of responsibility that his life took that path because of me.

“I don’t need anything, Tech.” My car greets me with a light creak as I enter, then soft pop music rising from the radio. “I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Cause you’re too fucking good for it, huh?” He snorts dryly. “Stuck up asshole.”

“Alright, goodbye, Tech.”

“No, wait!” He nearly chokes with how desperately those words come out. “I get it. You nearly died and it scared you off the high. I get it. I respect it, man. I do. So don’t shoot it, sell it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I got so much shit, Diego, and you’re a charmer. You always have been. You could pick this shit up from me and make 5k by the time the sun rises!”

Five thousand dollars.

That would end my struggle over rent for sure. And for next month, too, on top of letting me catch up with my bills.

A curl of temptation rises in my gut as the amount of money teases through my thoughts. It’s a lot of money and I’m in need of money.

But I can’t risk that shit in my hands again.

“No, Tech.”

“You serious? Five grand and you’re saying no? Ain’t no way you make this much at that little job of yours.”

“You’re right,” I say, starting my car and pulling out into the quiet street. “I don’t. But I know my limits, Tech. And you know, if you ever wanna get clean⁠—”

“Fuck off with that shit. This world is too fucked to survive sober. Night.”

He hangs up before I can reply and silence falls, broken only slightly by the hum of noise from my car radio.

On nights like this, when the streets are empty and the lights are down low enough that a hint of stars peeks out from the clouds of light pollution, I want to tell Tech that getting clean is the best thing I ever did.

I traded aches, pain, and nausea for easy breathing, sleeping through the night, and being able to handle more than one meal at a time. The stress of where to get my next fix, how to get enough money for one, and how to cheat the dealer out of enough are things of the past.

Now I stress over taxes, bills, hot water, and how to make my pay last until the end of the month.

Snorting softly to myself, I ease my car to a stop at a red light. Maybe this life isn’t as easy as I make it out to be. The only other positive is that sober, I can keep track of my⁠—

The passenger door suddenly rips open, interrupting my loose train of thought, and a figure throws herself into my car with a muted gasp of pain. She tumbles over herself and her ankle catches on the door, but she seemingly doesn’t even notice as she drags her leg inside, slams the door closed, and faces me.

All her features fade into a blur as I lock eyes with the black handgun held tightly in her hand and pointed directly at me.

“Drive!” the woman screams at me. “Fucking drive!”

Holy shit.

I do as she commands. Red light be damned, I slam on the accelerator and we tear away from the intersection while I grip the wheel with both hands.

“What the fuck,” I gasp. “What the hell are you doing?”

“J-Just drive!” she gasps back at me, arching her body in the seat as she struggles to situate herself. “Drive and I-I won’t fucking kill you, alright?”

That threat is enough to keep my eyes on the road while my mind races. Strange woman and a gun. I’ve seen a few guns in my time, but never have I been on the wrong end of one. It haunts my peripheral like a shadow, floating back and forth as the woman shifts in her seat and peers behind us as if she’s looking for something.