Page 10 of Blue

“You owe me,” Sam said.

“I know.” And now, I’d owe him even more. “I’m sick.”

“Your tears make me hard.” He leaned in and licked a tear from my face. I nearly gagged with the stench of his warm breath. “I’m sick of your shit, Kiss. If you want me to take care of you, then you need to do something for me. Get on your knees.”

“Please, I just need a little.”

“Prove you’re a dirty fucking whore who sucks dick for smack.”

I couldn’t. He forced me to my knees, unzipped his jeans, and shoved his cock into my face. My gut contracted, and the taste of bile crawled into my throat. I lifted my gaze to his. This was me. On my knees, begging for a shot. Sucking his cock wasn’t the worse thing I’d done for black.

My gut contracted. I spun toward the toilet and heaved.

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sorry. I told you. I’m sick. Do you want me to puke on your dick?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a small balloon. “I left my kit in Kane’s trailer. Do you have a needle?”

Tears filled my eyes. “I have one in my backpack.”

“Stay here. I’ll get it.”

Sam slipped out of the room, and I slid to the floor. Once I had a tiny hit, I wouldn’t be sick. Then I could figure out what to do. I couldn’t run from Blue. Not again. I didn’t realize how badly I ached to see him.

I just wish he hadn’t seen me high. I couldn’t let him see me like this, not dope sick.

Sweat slicked my skin, and my veins itched. I hated this. I hated what I’d become. I’d promised myself notto get in deep again. I convinced myself I could just use it occasionally when shit got bad. But I was a liar, even to myself. One shot always led to another.

The door opened and quietly clicked closed. Sam unzipped the top of my backpack and dug through my things until he found my plastic pencil case.

As he set up the spoon, tendrils of fear unfurled within me. Why was I here? Why couldn’t I stop this?

He melted a small amount of heroin in water. The mixture bubbled, and my anxiety overflowed. Violent tremors jolted through me. Pressure clamped down hard on my gut, and I hurled into the toilet again.

I didn’t want to do this.

“This is the only needle.” Sam filled the syringe. “We’ll need to share.”

Sam held my hand and turned my arm, looking for a vein. In the last six weeks, I hadn’t undone my months of being clean. I still had veins. But I was fucking falling deeper into my addiction again.

Blue was right. I had to decide if I wanted to live or die.

Death had to be better than this.

Maybe, this time, I’d finally find the light.

“Sam, please.” I didn’t know what I begged for anymore. Heroin shackled me to my addiction. But maybe it could set me free.

I closed my eyes, a tear slipped onto my cheek, and the needle pricked my arm. I used to love to watch the plunger, the pull back, the bit of blood mixing with the shot inside the barrel, and then the slip of warmth. Now, I just didn’t want to hurt anymore. I didn’t want to feel anything.

Ten seconds later, I didn’t.

My mind numbed, and inside, I melted into a dark and heavy intoxication. This was drowning in blackness. My heart darkened, and my soul slowly died.

“Kiss!” The bathroom door rattled on its hinges.

“It’s Blue,” I whispered to Sam. He’d know what I’d done. My breath came in sharp exhales and fear-laced inhales.

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