AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He chose her name from his recent phone call list and sat in the lawn chair, watching the world play out in front of him. It rang a few times and she answered, always chipper, always happy to talk to him.
“He’s…” Michael licked his dry lips and sat forward in the seat. His voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat. He was numb, in shock over what he’d seen. There would be no erasing it from his memory, no matter how much whiskey he drank.
“Mikey? Are you okay?”
“He’s… he’s dead, Haize.” Saying the words out loud almost killed him, and the craving for whiskey transitioned to something strong. A blast of whatever Mitch had done. There was still some left in the house. A good enough dose to ease him away from reality.
“What?”
Michael stood up and went back inside, hesitating to go back to the room where Mitch’s body was. “Mitch is dead.”
“Oh, my God. Mikey… are you okay?”
“I’m… fuck, I don’t know.” He walked down the hallway and back to the room where Mitch waited for the coroner. There was enough heroin inside the small baggy for Michael to get a quick fix. Lifting it, he crunched it in his fingers. The spoon, lighter, and the cotton ball looked up at him, waiting. He hadn’t gotten high on heroin in a long time. The first dose would be just as good as the first time he ever used it. He’d never used needles, but maybe that’s what he needed. It’d certainly numb him to the point of pure sleep and avoidance of his problems.
“I’m coming over, Mikey.”
“No.” Michael’s voice shook as he looked around for another syringe. Should he take the one out of Mitch’s arm? Was that evidence? “Don’t come. Someone needs to stay with Jace. I called 911. They’ll be here soon to do whatever it is they do.” He poked at the small bag containing the heroin. Even Haize’s voice wasn’t pulling him back to reality. This was his inevitable relapse addicts talked about. Not if, but when…
“You don’t sound good. I’m coming over.”
Michael ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket. He held the small baggie in his palm and closed his eyes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he observed the whole room. A used condom was in the trashcan beside the bed. He figured Marilyn had stopped by to get her feel after the bad news. Maybe she supplied him the heroin. It was all speculation, but a plausible story that he could see happening.
There was an unopened syringe and needle in the top drawer of the nightstand, and Michael pulled down the wrapper. A clean needle and syringe. Heroin. Cotton ball. Water. Lighter. It was like the universe was telling him to go ahead and do it. Numb that pain. Stick that needle deep inside and let it take you over.
How long would it take the police to get there? He could get his high going quickly. They’d never even know. He’d dispose of the evidence and just leave the stuff Mitch had used for them to gather up and investigate. He’d plunge just enough into his vein to take care of the pain, but not enough to make him sleep. The cops would just think he was in shock – a trance from the trauma he’d witnessed. No one would ever think he’d use some of Mitch’s drugs.
Unzipping the bag, he poured the last remnants into the water in the spoon. If he was going to do it, he had to do it fast. The cops and the medical examiner would be there any minute, and he didn’t want to get caught shooting it into his veins. He couldn’t wait to numb it all. Life was hard and he was sick of the pain. One little plunge and he’d feel better.
Holding the spoon up, he flicked the lighter on to warm the water up, watching as the flecks floated and dissolved as the liquid got hot. He usually snorted it or smoked it but had watched Marilyn enough to know how to prepare it for the syringe. The tourniquet was on the nightstand – Mitch had lived long enough to take it off and open his veins as the poison went inside. Lucky for Michael, he could use it without destroying the evidence on his brother’s body.
He tied the piece of rubber just above his elbow, tight against his muscle, tapping at the blue veins that bulged out against his skin. Healthy veins, easy to stick the needle into when it was time. He probably should’ve found a better place to hide it, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He had to hurry. Someone would be there soon, whether it was Haize or the cops. He couldn’t get caught. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haize got to Mitch’s house in record time. She ran up the steps and into the house, hurrying down the hallway. She saw Mitch’s lifeless body in the bed, and she immediately diverted her attention to Michael. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him sitting on the floor with a metal spoon in his hand and a tourniquet tight around his bicep. He looked up at her, tears in his eyes.
“Mikey. No. No, Mikey.” She sat down beside him, relieved to see the chunks of heroin still in the water. “Have you?”
He shook his head and put it on the table beside them. “No. Not yet.”
“Please, think about it.”
“Fresh needle. All the shit I need. Thanks, Mitch. Even in death, you’re providing for me.”
Haize took his face in her hands, resting her forehead on his. All she needed to do was distract him for a few minutes. Cravings could be fleeting. Or they could last a while. She was just glad she got there when she did. Seconds later and he’d have relapsed.
“Listen to me, Mikey. Don’t mess this all up because of what happened. Please. Think about all the good that has happened.” Michael shook his head and tried to pull away, but her grasp was strong, and she held her hands on either side of his face. “Don’t mess it up, Mikey. Don’t mess up all the progress and good things that have happened to you. All the work you’ve put in.” She held eye contact with him, looking into his green irises, seeing all the pain in his mind. All the sorrow she wished she could take away.
“He’s my brother, Haize.” His voice shook and tears fell down his face. “He’s the only family I have. We’ve been through it all together. Through all that shit when we were kids. I thought we were helping him. We were too late. Damn it, we were too late!”
Haize still held his face and wiped a tear with her thumb. “We tried. We did what we could. Don’t punish yourself for his choices.”
“I… I’m hurting. He’s my only family.”
Haize rested her forehead on his and ruffled her fingers through his hair. “Oh, but he’s not. You’ve got me. And Jace. We’re your family, too. And if you stick that needle in your arm today, Jace goes away. You go away, back to prison. We can’t lose you. You can’t do that to your son, Mikey. Please don’t do that to me.”
Michael scooted away from her, bumping into the bed. “I don’t deserve either of you. I deserve all this.” He motioned toward Mitch and the drug paraphernalia on the table. “One jab in my arm will take the pain away. It’ll feel so good.”
