Lost In A Dirt Junkies Mind
So I'm sitting here in my living room with this chick, holding a stolen pregnancy test that's about to decide our future and she's just sitting there with limp brown hair covering her coal rimmed eyes like what the fuck, and where the hell did we go wrong? The entire situation is so fucked up and God knows there aint anything right about any of us anymore. The whole situation is just fucked up and were fucked up and we're living in a fucking burned out hovel and there's water everywhere dripping on us from god knows where and it isn't exactly raining outside so someone above us flooded a bathroom or a kitchen or a pipe exploded... and how the fuck would you raise a kid in this kind of shit?
"What're you thinking, home-skillet?" I ask quietly because I'm afraid, I'm so fucking afraid that the wrong word might just rip her apart, and what the hell am I supposed to do? Bloody seductress and I didn't even want to fuck the poor bitch.
Now lets get something straight, the possibly pregnant, seductive, bitch is my best friend in the whole world, I love her dearly, and it's not that she's ugly or something, in fact she is very attractive with her long pale legs and messy brown hair that is always somehow in her face, amazing dark eyes, and lips that are begging to be wrapped around.. ya know, I think I'm just gonna stop there. The actual problem here is I'm a fag and she's a dike, and we don't have a real home we have nothing to live on and we both spend more time on our knees for money and drugs than.. than anything... and dear GOD what kind of spawn would that produce?
She laughs and I just want to sit down beside her and pull her close to me like I used to and tell her everything is gonna be okay... but we aren't eleven anymore, and I don't know if things will be okay and I don't know what to do because God how .. how am I supposed to think things could be okay?
"How did we ever end up here, David?"
The pain in her voice kills me and I just.. "I don't know, darlin." and what the fuck else am I supposed to say? I lick at my bleeding, dry, cracked lips and pick at an ever growing scab on my left arm. Waiting... just waiting for something, anything to take away the silence and awkwardness that is us now, that is this situation.
Suddenly she's standing at my feet with her hand outstretched for the box I'm still holding, I hand it to her and watch her walk to the bathroom area of our poor, sad excuse for shelter and I shiver a little thinking some small creature could be calling me Daddy and if I had it my way, we'd just drop it off in a doorway somewhere so a real family could take care of it leaving Stella and I to float away on a never ending heroin binge so we just don't have to think about it again.
I'm not meant to be a Daddy.
Stella's not ready to be a Mommy.
And the poor kid... the poor kid. Where would that leave him? I'm not ready to change my life. I don't want to. It's dirty and in the gutter most nights but it's safe, and at least I know where I stand in society.
She comes out waving a little stick around and I idly wonder if maybe she thinks it'll change the test result, "two minutes..." she whispers soft, her voice is so soft and I pull her down on the small rotting couch beside me and I pray to god that there's some way to make everything better and we could just go back to the way things were before everything got so fucked up.
We watched the clock in silence with her head on my lap and my greasy fingers combing through her dirty hair and it was as if time stopped for those two minutes while we sat and we waited and I silently cursed my life and her and God. And this situation was too much. It's all too much.
"David?" She looks at me with these tears in her eyes and I want to wipe them away, and I want to kiss her and hug her and hold her but I know I can't... because that's what got us into this mess in the first place. "I'm only sixteen David. I'm not ready to be a mom..." and her voice drifts far away and I hear the fear in her voice, in the way shes clutching to my dirty jeans that have so many holes they aren't even really jeans anymore, and her tears are stinging my leg when they fall.
"Me too, baby. Me too." It was the longest two minutes of my life.
The world is ticking by so slowly I can hardly breath... don't breath. Gasp for air. I'm sweating and Why? Why am I so scared, why does this shit have to happen to us?
Stella sits up, and I guess it's over.
With tired eyes I watch her face as she sits looking at that pissed on piece of plastic that just makes me want to drown myself in rotting milk and then she says it. Those words "I'm pregnant" and they ring in my ears a thousand times and it echos over the entire room. And what the fuck do we do now?
With a tiny pink plus sign, my life has ended and all of a sudden my world is crashing down around me. Stella sits there staring at the peeling orange wallpaper, eyes wide and terrified with that damned thing in her hand and I'll I can think is... 'oh... oh shit on me..' and then she's crying and the sound makes me want to puke with all of her hiccuping gasps and sputtering and ... and all I can think is where I can go to get my next hit, cuz, wow... baby do I need it.
I need to leave, I need to get out and just.. get out. Away from this away from the shit and her ... is it them now? Do I refer to her as them??
I don't even know anymore and I just want to cry but I can't and I just leave. And the cold air hits me so fast I can't breath. 'Good fucking job forgetting your jacket, moron' I chastise myself and my hands grip tightly to my thin arms as I walk. I don't even know where I plan on going, but I always, always end up in the same place.
Worn shoes are pounding the equally worn street of my poor neighborhood and the air freezes in my lungs with every gasping breath I take and I don't know how much more I can take. I feel bad for leaving Stella alone, but I can't stop it now. And I can't change it now because I refuse to turn around and I don't want her where I'm going anyway.
When I look up, the pools of light coming from the windows of the crud house are beckoning to me and the loud music is on, there's always a party going on at the crud house. It's promise of warmth pulls me forward until I'm opening the old wooden door and stepping on the layers of shoes piled inside and I hear someone call my name.
I turn around and he's standing there. The Boss. The reason crud house is and the reason so many of us occupy it. I wipe the oily blond hair out of my face and regard him as coolly as a person in my position can and I kind of fumble for something to say, when I already know what he wants.
I know what he wants, because he knows what I want, because anytime I come to crud house it's always for the same thing and I always pay for it in the same way. Lets call it a tradition, shall we?
"You got money with you this time?" he asks and before the sentence is even started I'm shaking my head. I never do. He always asks.
He smirks and motions for me to follow him through the crowded house into a small room near the back that he uses for business. "You look more out of it than usual?" he mentions before sitting down and measuring out my regular amount, the sight of the white powder intensifying my need for a hit and I just shake my head. "This is good shit, it's gonna cost you."
"How much?" I don't even care how much, I just want it. I want it now.
"270 for 3 grams, I'm going to assume your usual method of payment, yes?" This is taking too long, just cut me out a line and I'll fucking give you anything you want. I nod my head and bite my lip and god, why why does he have to move so fucking slow?
The minute it takes to measure it out feels like hours and the moment he hands me the small clear baggy I nearly jump for joy. I mumble something about how pure it is and I don't even expect him to answer, but he does and hands me a small piece of aluminum foil and a lighter. "It'll burn clean." he verifies. You see, when you burn a little amount of coke on a folded aluminium foil, it should leave a reddish golden residue. When it cooks black then there is sugar in it, bubbles will show there's speed.
What I wouldn't suggest is doing this in front of your dealer as a general rule, let's just say me and mine are pretty close and he doesn't give a fuck either way. He's always got good shit, but I'm paranoid. You would be too if your ass was on the line. And I mean that literally.
I cut myself and him a couple lines each and the moment I feel that beautiful pristine drug hit my nostril it's all I can think about and the second line is taken just as fast as the first and I can't wait, cant wait for the high to kick in full force.
Then he's there and he's turning me around and we leave his office in search of a bathroom, he tells me I stink, and I need a shower before he touches me. And god, God I don't even care. I'm happy for the use of his shower, and maybe some clean clothes and a good fuck isn't that bad either.
We reach the bathroom.. a bathroom before I even realize it and he's stripping my clothes off me, smooth skilled hands running over the whole of my body, before pushing me under the warm spray of the water. For the first time today I feel like my life is running at it's normal pace. It doesn't take long for us to move to his room and wow... I'm fucking flying and I'm happy, and I haven't been happy in days and I'd give anything to feel like this everyday.
And then he's there again, pushing me toward the bed and I don't care, I don't care because I can fucking feel it and It's like I'm floating and the air is thick with the smell of drugs and sex and its so me, it's so us and it feels right and god, that sounds so fucked up. How can fucking your drug dealer feel right? I don't even know but it does.
His lips, his teeth, his hands and body. His skin that's so fucking clean, so fucking soft compared to mine and how can it be that he's the pure one of us when he's taking advantage of me like this. I don't care. Right now, I don't need to care, so I close my eyes and surrender to him.
. oh gooooodddd I havn't written in so very long, please please tell me what you think - even if you think it's lame hahah
Thanks muchly :)~~ Junkie