Page 52 of Forget Me Not

“Hey,” I holler, grabbing the attention of a couple guys walking by. I’ve seen 'em around and know what their business is on this street.

The taller, slender one wearing a bomber jacket stops. His hand on his chest. “You talking to me?”

“Yeah, you.” I curl my fingers, calling him over. “Come here.”

The two guys share a look then backtrack to me. “What do you want"?” the shorter of the duo says in an annoyed manner. As if I’m wasting their time.

“I need something from the two of you.”

Their eyes perk up, another quick glance between the two of them. Then they crouch down to where I’m sitting.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

I shrug my shoulders, unsure really. “Make me forget.”

It’s as simple as that. It’s all I really want.

The taller of the two laughs. “That’s quite a stretch. How forgetful are we talking here?”

With no fight left in me, I sulk. “Just make me fucking forget it all.”

“Come with us.”

Already feeling numb to the world, I push myself off the ground and follow the guys into an alley two blocks down.

Casting a suspicious glance up and down the alley, the guy then turns to face me. “How much do you got?”

Biting the corner of my lip, I bat my lashes. “How much do you want?” My hand runs down my dirty shirt and over my puckered nipples.

“Girl,” he sweeps his hand in the air, “get the fuck outta here. You’re broke as shit.”

They begin to walk away, but desperation seeps in and I grab the shorter guy by the sleeve of his jacket because he’s within reach. “Wait. Please.”

“Word of advice,” the guy's eyes slide up from my hold on him to my eyes, “find a different outlet. You don’t want the high you think you do. It’s not worth it.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. “It’s just for today.”

“And what happens tomorrow?”

“I fight like hell to survive another day.”

The shorter guy blows out a whistle at his friend, who’s still walking away. His friend pivots around and heads back toward us.

They share some unspoken words as the guy I’m holding tips his chin.

Tall Guy pulls at the lapels of his jacket, then unzips it with a heavy sigh. “Sit down,” he demands of me.

I gulp, then do as I’m told, right in the middle of the alley.

“Not there.” He growls. “Against the wall. You’re gonna need the support after this.”

He pulls a pre-filled syringe and tourniquet out of his pocket, and I don’t even question what’s in the syringe, because I don’t care.

When he kneels down, he looks me right in the eyes. “This is a one-time favor for a girl who needs a wake-up call. This isn’t an invitation into a life of addiction. Today sucks. But tomorrow is a new day.” He pulls up my sleeve, ties the tourniquet around my arm, and taps his finger to the syringe. After carefully selecting a vein, he threads the needle into my arm. Before I can back out or even register the choice I’m making, he pushes the plunger.

I’m not sure where they went. When they left. Where I’m even at.

I don’t know anything, and I finally care about nothing.

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