My heart begins to race, rapidly. Quickly, I turn the music down. Have you ever noticed how when you are driving and in an uncomfortable area, are lost, or are searching for an unfamiliar place, you turn the radio down so you can see better? Yeah, I do that. Angie turns her head to look back at the officer. What the fuck! Hello! Are you new? When someone says a freaking cop is behind you, you do not turn your fucking head around and look at them! Doesn’t everyone know that? That’s what side mirrors are for. God! I am so irritated, panicked and afraid right now. My mind speculates on all of the possibilities I will allow for it to ponder about. Fucking Eric! It had to be Eric. Why else would this cop be behind me right now?

Angie’s apartment is in the next town. Is there a chance I can make it there and he will be out of jurisdiction? Should I take the back roads and see if he follows me, or jump on the freeway? Both Justin and Angie are directing me with their thoughts. Justin begs me to take the freeway. Angie wants me to take a few turns to see if he follows. I am not a cop. I don’t know about jurisdiction and if that is even true? Plus, can’t he radio the state patrol to come help him out, provided I do hit the freeway? This is not good. I need a cigarette and ask Angie to light one up for me. The last thing I need to do is take my hands off the steering wheel right now. I move my vehicle into the turn lane and the cop follows. Oh my God! Fucking Eric! He likely was angry I didn’t show up at court and has concocted some story to get me into trouble. Why else would this cop be following me? If I am arrested, can they search my car? I have dope, needles, and crystal in the car. There is a freaking pawn shop worth of cell phone chargers that have accumulated in the back seat. While I am not the one who stole them, I know they are stolen! Fucking Tweakers and their damn wires, cords, and cables!

Angie and I discuss the possibility of Eric turning me in. Justin interrupts to inform me that he has a warrant! Oh my God! A fucking warrant? Damn it! Usually, before I allow anyone to get into my car, I ask them if they have warrants. Not that they would be honest about it. However, if they are, I don’t let them ride around in my car. That is like hanging a freaking sticker on my bumper telling the cops to fuck with me! If he has a warrant and I am pulled over, does that give them grounds to search my vehicle? I think it does. I don’t think they have to obtain another warrant to search the vehicle at that point. If they have grounds to search it, they will. They marked my car as trouble, a long time ago! I watch, as the cop plays around on his computer. Is he running my plates?

The dreaded lights begin to flash in my rear view mirror. Flashes of red and blue, startle me. Sirens begin their wail and I know, that this is it. I pull my vehicle to the side of the road. My heart is pounding. My head is spinning. I reach for my purse so that I can have all my papers ready when the cop car speeds past me. Wait, what? The three of us laugh and share a sigh of relief. We had fed off each other’s energy and made a bad situation, much worse. When you are a junkie, having a cop behind you is always a bad situation. However, we managed to blow this out of proportion. Still, I am furious to learn that Justin has an outstanding warrant. We make our way back to Angie’s, and yes, I take the freeway!

Once back at Angie’s, I need a shot. Days of little nods being the only form of sleep. Spread out sporadically, here and there. Truthfully, I need to sleep. Justin showed up exhausted, so I know he needs it too. Angie needs it, but she is ready to smoke some crystal. Justin suggests we nod for a while before we smoke the last of the crystal. I concur. You can only go for so many days before you have to surrender to rest. After that panic attack, I definitely am not in any hurry to go back out for a while. Angie agrees to rest but stresses the need to be awake before the stores close.

When my eyes open, they are met with daylight. In fact, it is nearly 4:00 p.m. How can that be? What the fuck? We were all so exhausted we slept through the night and following day. Now, Angie is pissed and throwing shit in the house. Apparently, while I was sleeping she made all these plans for us to do today and she is upset that I wouldn’t wake up. She wanted to go to the DMV for an ID and then DSHS for a new food stamp card, (as she sold her last one for dope). Of course, she made these plans while I was sleeping and this is the first I am hearing about them. How the hell can she be mad at me when I wasn’t even fucking aware she had mapped this day out? My head is pounding. It feels like I have a migraine. Her yelling is only making it worse and I beg for her to please let me wake up. She tosses dope in front of me and screams for me to hurry the fuck up. My head is unable to lift. The headache is causing me to feel sick and my ears feel as if I just came out of a loud rock concert. This is most definitely, a migraine. While they are rare, I do get these from time to time. Light, sound and even movement, makes it worse. If I can get a shot of dope in me and drink some water, hopefully, I will be fine.

Angie is screaming and calling me names. I cannot scream to defend myself or even get in her face. I am stuck in a slumped over position. Even prepping my shot, is too much work. Somehow, I manage to sit up on my knees. Rex, (her Pitbull) is barking and aggravated. His barking echoes through my head. Justin attempts to calm Angie down, but she refuses to listen. Tears begin to wet my face. Tears of extreme pain. Tears of frustration and tears of complete desperation. Extending my arm forward to reach for the dope is painful. My head is hung and I am staring at the floor. Angie comes by and stomps her foot on the floor by my side. Is she going to kick me? Or, hit me? Normally, I would rip her fucking head off. I can be vicious, but I am in no position to fight. There is not enough adrenaline in the world to trigger my ability to move right now. This is the worse I have felt in a long time. The onset of opiate withdrawal is there. However, it’s the migraine that has disabled me. My mind is screaming for me to jump up, grab her throat, slam her loud-mouthed head into the wall and threaten her, but my body is paralyzed on the floor.

Rex paces back and forth, growling and barking loudly. My junkie kit is out of reach. If only, I could stand the fuck up and get into the bathroom. Would that shut her the hell up? Justin paces up and down the hall between the living room and the bedroom. I am on her bedroom floor. The bathroom is connected to the bedroom and is only a few steps away from me. However, I cannot physically stand up. If I do, I am certain I will vomit. This migraine is packing pain that will cause me to vomit. I know it and I hate it. Vomiting causes me to act like a baby. Crying and whining and even looking to snuggle with a blanket afterward. Justin screams at Angie from the living room, begging her to give me five minutes. He has seen me slumped on the floor. It is obvious that I do not feel well.

Suddenly, without warning, a painful thud connects with my forehead. Did Angie just fucking kick me? That bitch! She just kicked me in my forehead! Wait. NO! Rex is fucking attacking me! He charges me again and Angie screams for Justin to help. She tries to pull Rex by his choke collar, but he escapes her grasp. Angie leaves the room, but not before screaming that this was all my fault. Justin runs into the room, right as the dog’s jaw closes on my right side. He grabs for Rex’s collar. Success. Just as his jaws clamped down on my side, Justin jerked him back. The suddenly, ferocious Pitbull, rips through a tank top, t-shirt, long sleeve shirt, and jacket, (we wear layers in Washington). Justin screams for me to get out. Finally, I stand on my feet and Rex grabs the bottom of my pant leg and rips through my jeans. This releases me from his grip and I run out into the living room. What the fuck? I have fed this dog, taken care of this dog and loved this dog. Angie is scrambling around and crying. She is afraid that her dog will be put down. She blames me and says he was only protecting her. I blame her and confirm, he was protecting her, but not because I posed a threat, but because she was in my face and yelling, so, he attacked.

Blood is dripping down my face. There is a knot the size of a golf ball on my forehead. I lift what’s left of my tattered shirts, to discover two puncture wounds near my kidney. The wounds are bleeding. Justin has managed to close the bedroom door with Rex in it. He races out to see if I am alright. The look on his face, screams shock and fear. He asks Angie for a wet towel to wipe my wounds. Angie opens the bedroom door and I can hear her screaming at Rex. Rex comes running out into the living room and I shriek and cower behind Justin. Angie kicks Rex twice and hits his backside as if she were spanking him. She repeatedly calls him a bad boy and asks him why he did this.

She kicks at him, all the way back to the bedroom and closes the door. She is still yelling at him behind closed doors and for a brief moment, I wish he would attack her. After all, he attacked me and I was literally non-responsive, sitting on a floor. She has kicked and hit him. Why the hell isn’t he attacking her? Blood drips into my eye. Justin is seriously concerned for my well being and is angry that she has not produced a towel. I ask him how bad it is and he replies he thinks I need to go to the hospital. We get up to leave quietly and discover, my purse, hence my car keys are in the bedroom still.

Justin walks back to the bedroom to get my purse. He is reluctant to open the door. Angie is sobbing and still screaming at Rex. He tells her I need my purse and she comes unglued. Suddenly, the door swings open and she throws my purse and backpack out into the hall. She is angry that I am leaving, (as she needs me to take her around) and she doesn’t want me to go to the hospital. A trip to the hospital might produce a report on Rex that would cause for him to be put down. She admits that Rex bit someone two weeks ago and this would be the nail in his coffin, (he also bit someone a month ago). Never mind, that I am fucking bleeding from my side and forehead. Or that I might run the risk of infection from his saliva entering my bloodstream. She is such a selfish bitch.

Half of the contents of my backpack have been tossed out onto the floor. Justin stuffs everything back in and tells her how crazy she is. Not sure that is the best thing he could have said to her in her current state. She comes out into the hallway and gets in Justin’s face. She pushes his chest and insists that she is not crazy and that it was my fault the dog attacked. He argues that she left me in the room with her dog while he was attacking me, forcing him to intervene. She is lucky Rex didn’t attack him or he would have broken his neck. This causes Angie to sink to the floor. She is sobbing to a point of near hyperventilation. I have not yet examined the wound on my face and want to get the fuck out of here. My head is still pounding. I have yet to do a shot.

Angie begs me to not go to the hospital. She elaborates how much I have loved Rex and cared for him. This causes me to laugh and call her a fucking nut job! It’s funny how quickly love can turn to fear, shock, and utter disbelief, once a dog has attacked you viciously. If Justin had not been there to rip Rex off of me, I would likely be bleeding to death on the floor. His teeth marks are by my freaking kidney! You don’t have to be a doctor to know there are vital organs there. I know that Pitbull’s jaws lock. If he had managed to bite completely down on me, I might be dead. She pleads with me not to turn him in. Apparently, her ex abused him. Gee, you think? From what I witnessed, she abuses him too! That coupled with the fact he bit someone two weeks ago and another person last month. He is dangerous. What if I had been a child? Truth is, I have no interest in putting Rex to sleep. I don’t even want to go to the hospital. The last thing I need is to have tests done showing that I am a fucking heroin junkie. Shit, one look at my arms while placing an IV and they would know, without testing!

I tell Angie I need that dope before I leave. Something inside me snaps. My body is up and raging, as I scream for her to give me the fucking dope or I will make damn sure Rex is put down. She looks at me in complete shock. The audacity I have to ask her for the shot of dope she tossed at me after all of what went down. My eyes glaze over with their own shade of fucking psycho, as I reiterate my demand for the dope. As if bribing to save her dog’s life with a shot of dope isn’t bad enough, Angie’s compliance is. I can sense how badly she wants to hit me right now, as I toss the dope in my spoon. Fuck this stupid bitch. I am not hiding in the bathroom. I am cooking this shit in front of her and making erotic sounds throughout the entire process, to ensure I draw attention to what I am doing.
All this time I have tried to protect her from witnessing the flame. The heroin pooling in the spoon. The needle. The blood mixing with your poison. The immediate way your head nods forward or leans back when you push the demon in. I lick my lips and moan about how delicious it tastes in the back of my throat. Several times my body quivers as if experiencing multiple orgasms. A tad mellow dramatic much? Perhaps. I smile at my evil demonstration. If ever there were a time in the history of banging dope that would entice a bitch to want to try it, this was it! That last little bit of decency has slipped from my moral compass. Thankfully, I hit my first time. After I remove the rig from my arm I moan a few more times for effect, commenting about how good this dope is. Angie’s face is mesmerized. I’ve successfully left an impression on her mind that will haunt her desire to try needles for the rest of her heroin using days. My God, I am a fucking bitch after all. To finalize my cunt like display, I thank her and smile in her face, before drawing attention to my own bag of dope.

Her face twists from being mesmerized to anger, as I pull that half gram, (that I stole from her) from my bra to toss in my kit. Immediately, she begins screaming and kicking in disgust and disbelief. How dare I use her dope to get high when I have my own. The nerve of me to accept a shot out of what little she had left when clearly I am packing a half g, (g=gram). Justin sits quietly on the couch. Angie calls for him to agree with her about my shady behavior, but he is leaving with me and needs a shot. So, he remains quiet. Rex is barking from the bedroom and Angie threatens to sick him on me again. While every fiber in my being wants to run up to her on the floor, kick her in the head and scream, I resist. Instead, slowly I creep towards her. A devious grin smeared across my face. I imagine the blood dried on my face and the bruised knot on my forehead is a little scary to look at. Especially, with the look, I am wearing. I kneel down beside her. I am prepared for her to grab at me and if that happens, I feel really good about my odds with this adrenaline pumping through me about kicking her ass. Surprisingly, she doesn’t reach for me. My lips are pressed against her ear when I whisper my intentions. If she makes any trouble for me, I will kill her dog. If I hear my name has been in her mouth, her precious mutt will be executed. I inform her that I know she has some sort of lesbian crush on me and laugh gently in her ear about how my breath in her hair is turning her on right now. She uses me and I am aware. I make her aware that I know this, before pulling back and thanking her again for her hospitality.

With my eyes carefully focused on hers, I collect my things from the hallway and motion for Justin to get up. We begin our walk towards my car. Angie follows after us, screaming about how I better never show my face around her again. I am no longer welcome in her home and how I better watch my back. The entire neighborhood can hear her raspy, man voice threatening me. Her threats are idle. After I am inside my vehicle, I notice her sunglasses on the middle console. This creates a vicious stir inside of me. I brush the hair from my face and put them on slowly before blowing a kiss at her and driving off. Justin begins laughing and reliving the events that just occurred. He reiterates our conversations and expresses his disbelief about the words that came out of my mouth and the coinciding look on her face as I said them. He is bouncing excitedly in his seat and punching his fist into the palm of his other hand, with each major verbal blow I delivered. This causes me to laugh hysterically. If only he knew how terrified I had been delivering those lines. It was all an act. I delight in how believable, I came across.

Now that I have access to a mirror, I examine my forehead. The knot is the size of a golf ball. It looks as though there are broken blood vessels throughout it. Dried blood covers my forehead, temple, and cheek. I scrape the dried, crusty blood from my eyebrow. There is significant bruising around the knot. My best guess is that Rex headbutted me, causing this lump. Justin is eager to take a shot of dope. However, I just took one and I know better than to take another so quickly. Also, this dope is shit and I am in no hurry to fuck with it again. I need new dope. The plan is to unload, (sell) this shit to someone else so that I can get better quality. Its weight is a half g and I hate to cut into it, but he did save me, so I agree to toss him a piece.

We park in a secluded spot at a local park. There are no children around, only a few dog walkers. It is perfect. As he preps his shot, I take to my phone to see who I can unload this crap on. As I am scrolling through my numbers, my phone rings. It is the jail. Eric is calling me again.


The Trials of a Sober Backpacker

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Revelation 22:12

Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done.

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