Page 36 of Dark Room Junkie

The carpenter waved to me one last time, then left the apartment.

“What’s happening next week?” I asked, finally getting up.

“Oh ... just the usual. But this time, I want to do it Open House style. Everyone’s welcome. I know you prefer smaller sessions, but...”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “And thinking about having guys like Michael here again ...”

“Alex, you have to make it clear to them right from the start what’s what. No one will hold it against you. Not even Michael. You should’ve seen him. He was devastated when you disappeared into the bathroom. And then you just never came out. The poor guy couldn’t handle it.”

I grimaced. “That’s bullshit.”

Livio grinned. “A bit, but I’m serious about the clarification part. And you know I’m right.”

“Yeah,” I reluctantly agreed, gathering my clothes.

“Maybe you’ll come with someone next time. That would definitely make it easier for you.”

I gave a weak nod. He just knew me too well, and he was right, but there simply wasn’t anyone I could take to such a party.

11

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Noé

The apartment was pitch black, even though it was still afternoon. Only a faint glow reached the entrance, and the sour stench of sweat, weed, and booze hung in the air. I shrugged off my school backpack and hesitated. Fear crept over me, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers in my room, but I couldn’t. I had to check on her. So I slowly walked through the hallway toward the living room. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the dim light. A few candles burned on the coffee table.

“Mom?” I asked anxiously.

No answer. I opened the window, pushed up the wooden shutter, and warm sunlight poured into the filthy apartment.

My heart pounded in my throat the moment I saw her lying motionless on the floor. My hands grew clammy as horror gripped me. With a needle still stuck in her arm, she lay there, more dead than alive, with lips turning blue, a pale face, and filthy clothes.

My body reacted. I pushed aside the coffee table and knelt beside her. I pulled the needle out of her arm and shook her.

“Mom! Wake up! Please!”

Her skin was pale, while her eyes were slightly open and rolled back. Panic seized me, and I screamed at her. I pounded on her chest with my small fists. On the table lay a small mirror, dirty from the white powder. I held it to her mouth. She wasn’t breathing.

“No authorities!”I heard her threat in the back of my mind.“Or I’ll kill you!”

I ran to the kitchen and searched the drawers. Romero had used an adrenaline shot last time and left a few in reserve. And sure enough, I found one. With trembling hands, I ripped open the packaging and returned to Mom.

Just like Romero did last time, I jabbed the needle into her upper arm. The effect was almost immediate; Mom shot up and slapped my face—whether intentional or not didn’t matter. I sought distance because now it was crucial to disappear as quickly as possible. But like a fury, she grabbed me and flung me against the wall. I hit my head and slumped to the floor. Mom spun around, cursing about things I didn’t understand, blaming me for everything, and kicking me in the stomach. She yanked my hair and slammed my head against the wall again.

“This is all your fault!” she screamed.

I startled awake, my eyes wide open, heart racing, and blood roaring in my ears as if I’d just finished a marathon. Breathing heavily, I rubbed my face.

Just a dream.

Calm down.

But the feeling it left behind almost tore me apart. I didn’t want to feel it—the coldness, the loneliness. But they were hollowing me out and dragging me down. I let myself fall back onto the pillow and covered my face with my arm.

Just a dream.

Just a fucking dream.

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