Eric announces through the door that it is him. My adrenaline is pumping again as Eric walks through the door and runs over to me. His face shows genuine concern, as he questions where I have been all night and embraces me with a wet hug. He is soaked and shivering from the rain. His skin is cold and clammy, as he holds me tightly and doesn’t let go.
Still holding me, he pulls his head away and scans my body up and down. His eyes widen, as he observes the cuts and scrapes all over my skin. Eric suggests going for a drive while I explain to him the details of my adventure. There is no hesitation on my part to comply. Going for a drive means he has tar and I am finally going to get well. We have to go for a drive because Isaac detests heroin and needles and they are not allowed in his house. This has always been our way of communicating with each other that it is time to bang our demon. Isaac is fixated on cleaning his arsenal of meth pipes. He has no objection to our leaving. However, he informs us that because Jenn is in jail, that we are more than welcome to spend a few days there if we score him some tweak. Despite Eric’s apparent acceptance and gratitude of this offer, I am certain, once in the car, he will rant about how that is not going to happen. All of my belongings were stolen from this house and he is not happy about even being here.
My Impala is still parked behind the old firehouse. I feel a sense of security, as Eric escorts me back to my car. Once inside, we head to the spot under the tree at the lake that I love. To my excitement and relief, Eric is cooking our shots and prepping them while I drive. My entire mouth salivates with anticipation. He has not skimped or shorted me, the shots are equal and healthy doses. All the details of my endeavors have been divulged by the time we approach our destination.
It has been days since I have slept and I need to nod. The physical and mental exhaustion is settling and paralyzing my ability to go or do anything more. Once parked, I move my chair all the way back and face Eric’s direction. Sick, cold and eager to nod. I am overzealous and miss my vein. Of course, he has already hit his vein without any difficulty and I watch as he leans his head back on to his seat. We are parked at a public lake so it is imperative that we keep watch for each other. The mirrors are positioned perfectly for keeping watch on the rear but I need his eyes alert and focused ahead of us. Slouched down and leaned back in my seat, I repeatedly stab my dull and overused rig through cuts, bruises, and scrapes. My skin is still freezing and the veins in my arms are inaccessible. Determined and desperate, I squeeze my hand into a fist quickly and repeatedly. With my left hand, I slap the top of my right hand in an attempt to wake up my demon’s portals. As an added measure, I utilize my hair band as a tourniquet and wrap it around my forearm. The heat vents are blasting heat and I hold my hand in front of it. Despite the dull point of the needle, it produces sharp pain.
Thick, red blood fills the very little room Eric has left in the barrel, as I slowly pull the plunger back. The veins in my hands will collapse and blow if I push my prince in too quickly. Slowly I reunite my soul to its master and embrace his opiate induced coma. Warmth radiates throughout my entire being, as my head falls back in a nod. Mmmm…. I know its hell but it feels like heaven as I am consumed by his flames. His hypnosis possesses me. My eyelids heavy with his sweet intoxication. The euphoria of his embrace won’t allow for me to break free from the grasp I have succumbed to. I welcome it. I yearn for it. My mind begs him not to stop. His hands caress my inner thigh, sending shock waves of pleasure to my core. The trace of his fingertips through my long, matted hair, sends tingles down my spine.
I can taste his kiss in the back of my throat, as I lick my lips for more. With my eyes still heavy, my head falls forward but is gently cradled, as his hands surround my cheeks. Without reservation, I allow my lips to be met by my demons kiss. The kiss of death is sweeter than any kiss I have ever known. Suddenly, my eyes open to the reality that it is Eric’s hands and lips all over me and that my master’s love and touch was a private encounter in my mind. Making love to Eric physically is making love to the devil mentally. The taunting, teasing, and tormenting. The abuse, neglect and abandoned morale. I sacrificed myself a long time ago. Eric whispers that he loves me as we move to the back seat. He puts pillows in the rear window and ravishes me. The opiates make it nearly impossible to climax but the euphoria of the dope intensifies sex.
At first, I am paranoid and continuously pause to view our surroundings. There is no one here. The rain has detoured the usual boating activity and traffic at the lake. Finally, my paranoia ceases and I allow myself to let go. Physical touch is intensified but my body is numb to its intensity. Eric jerks me awake and laughs at me for nodding out in the midst of our escapade. Surprisingly, he is not angry or abusive today. Where is the Eric I know?
After an hour or so, we surrender to the reality that neither one of us can achieve release. Once we have returned to the front seat, we roll down the fogged windows and light up our cigarettes. It is not uncommon to nod and come to with a burn hole somewhere in your clothing, car’s upholstery or furniture you are nodding on. Thank God they have changed the paper used to wrap cigarettes to go out when you are not actively puffing away on them. Otherwise, I am certain I would have been responsible for several fires by now.
In fact, I don’t think I own a piece of clothing that has survived a heroin nod accompanied by a lit cancer stick. Today is no different. Still pinched between my fingers, I awaken to the site of the tip of my smoke on my thigh. There is a burn hole in my pants. The cigarette has gone out and I search for my Bic to relight it. Eric is still nodded out and I place his burn out aside for him to finish later. My journal is calling and I grab a pen and start writing this whirlwind of emotion, blowing through my mind. A car pulls into the open gate up the path and I check my rear view mirror to examine its purpose. My heart stops. I nudge Eric awake and exclaim, the black Honda has pulled in behind me.
My high is shaken. The site of the Honda parked up the path, triggers a flood of familiar paranoia and panic. My heart races, as I fumble to start my engine. Eric appears to share my panic and instructs me to quickly turn my vehicle around. What are they doing here? How did they find me? Have they been following me all along and where are the other cars in their gang? Mud spins under my tires, as I whip my car around. If I accelerate towards them, are they going to play chicken? Are they going to maneuver their vehicle to block the exit? Eric is screaming at me to floor it and without hesitation, I gun it. To my surprise, their vehicle makes no attempt to block me. In fact, they do not budge from their parked position.
I fly past them and peel out to the left to get back to the main road. Suddenly, the red Honda is behind me and I see the black Honda pull out of the park. It wasn’t in my head! It wasn’t meth psychosis! Eric sees them too and is demanding that I accelerate to dangerous speeds, in an attempt to lose them in the chase that is about to ensue.
I whip around the roundabout so quickly, it feels as though my Impala has lifted from the ground; squealing and burning tread. The odor immediately nauseates me. Eric is from this area and insists he knows turn offs where we can lose them. We are nearing town and I am concerned about being pulled over. However, I cannot slow down!
A street light ahead turns yellow and I am terrified to come to a stop. What if they slam into my car, or get out and come running up on me parked at the light with weapons? Eric shares the same concern and instructs me to run the light. I fly through the red light at 73 MPH. My heart is pounding. My eyes cannot divert from the pack of cars chasing us and I scream at Eric to watch for 5.0. 5.0 is a term used for police officers.
As we approach the back road that leads to Sedro, Eric screams at me to turn right and head that way. The Honda’s are relentless with their pursuit and have not slowed down. Running through the same red light to stay on my tail. I blow through a stop sign, as Eric repeatedly pounds on the horn to draw attention to our inability, or unwillingness to stop. Holy Shit! Holy Shit! I have never been so reckless in my life! The Honda’s are forced to stop at the stop sign, due to the traffic coming from all four ways. I see my chance to put some distance between us and accelerate to 90 MPH. The ground is wet and my tires continuously pull my Impala on to the shoulder of the road. Gravel flies up and clinks my windshield. Another stop sign is ahead and I scream at Eric, insisting we have to stop at this one and slow down. There are always cops parked just past this area. Eric concurs.
My eyes are glued to my rear view mirror, as I am forced back to 35 MPH through this zone. I don’t see the Hondas. There are tons of back roads that loop around to the area we are entering and my eyes dart back and forth, searching for any signs of the chase. Eric is jumping out of his seat, whipping his head in all directions and repeatedly screaming, what the fuck as we continue into Sedro. Once on the main drag in Sedro, we are forced to stop at a light. The terror in my eyes matches Eric’s, as we take a moment to regroup. While stopped at the light, Ty and Julie’s Civic pull directly behind us! Red and Chris are in the back seat and I can see Chris screaming and punching on the back of Ty’s seat. The driver door to Ty’s Civic opens and without thinking, I flip a bitch, (make a U-turn) into oncoming traffic.
Horns blare at me but I accelerate quickly. Ty flips a bitch and is right on my tail. Suddenly, I am doing 60 MPH, weaving in and out of traffic and infuriating other motorists who are all blowing their horns. I take a sharp left, causing two lanes of traffic to slam on their brakes. My car flies over the railroad tracks. My head slams into the roof of my vehicle from the tracks bump and Eric screams at me to slow down. As I slow just enough to make the next right, I see Ty’s Civic pass by behind us. Why didn’t they turn in to follow me? I turn right onto a road that parallels the main road we were on. Eric exclaims that there is another turn-off and that they are probably going to turn off ahead and meet us head-on. No sooner than he speculates the situation, we find ourselves in it.
There are ditches on both sides of us. Eric instructs me to turn around but the road is too narrow for me to flip a bitch without having to stop mid-turn, hit reverse and then pull forward to straighten out again. They are flying towards us and I know I have no time to maneuver my Impala to comply with Eric’s demands. I have to go for it.
I punch the gas pedal and accelerate to 70 MPH. We are playing a game of chicken, only they don’t appear to be willing to budge! This is no game. They are approaching me at a similar speed and neither one of us has time to break or move from each other’s path. Both Ty and my vehicles are riding the yellow-center line. I jerk my car to the left and just barely miss a fatal collision. My tires rip through the tall, wet grass lining the ditch. Sending long, wet blades through the air. My windshield is blanketed with mud and greenery.
I hear the bottom of my car scraping through the ditches growth. Eric screams at me, calling me a fucking crazy, ass bitch. I pull my steering wheel quickly back to the right and race forward. From my rear view, I can see that Ty has come to a complete stop in the middle of the road. He and Chris are now standing in the road, waving their hands back and forth as if signaling for my attention. It’s a setup, I scream! I am not turning around. We made it. The turnoff they came onto the road at is approaching and I make a right back to the main road. I don’t know where I am going. Eric has been rendered speechless and his face is white as a ghost. He breaks his silence with laughter and calls me Mario Andretti. My heart begins to slow its pace, as he puts his hand on mine and praises my driving ability.
I need to get high. This whole event completely killed my high off and I just want to find a safe, quiet spot and indulge in my sin. Eric is always ready to bang another shot and is adamant that he knows a safe spot. Safe? Safe from what? What have I gotten myself into and who am I running from? I am so angry that Chris was in the car with them. I know Red was behind this whole thing and if time allows me an opportunity, I decide catching a charge or not, I am going to kick her fucking ass. As always, Eric delivers another squirrel hideaway for us to pull off and get high. I pull my car through a small wet field and park it behind a cluster of trees. Eric throws the dope at me and tells me to prep the shots, elaborating he needs to get out of the car and catch his breath. He has the audacity to warn me about pinching the dope, (stealing a piece for myself for later) and steps out of the Impala.
I have never pinched his dope and am angered by his warning. He, however, has pinched my dope plenty of times. What a bastard! He is so selfish and stingy and I am anything but. Eric walks off, in the direction of where we came into the field. I am sure he is checking to make sure my car is not visible from the road. Sleep is begging me to partake in a few hours but my adrenaline needs the dope to calm me to nod. After both shots are ready, I tie off my arm. In my peripheral vision, I can see Eric approaching and I want to hit before he gets into the car and ostracizes me for not being able to. Being called a junkie and pathetic is the last thing I need right now. Just as I stick the needle into my attempt at hitting old reliable, Eric bangs on the windshield and calls me a fucking junkie.
He opens the car door, angry that I haven’t waited for him. He accuses me of making my shot better than his and screams at me about knowing better and that if I prepare the shots, I know he gets to pick his! Of course, when he preps the shots I never pick mine. He is such an ass! Why does he think I would cheat him? I never have! In fact, I am usually the one who has the dope and I give him extra due to his tolerance! God, he makes me so mad! He grabs his shot and hits without any complications. Now shaken with his hurtful accusations, hitting my vein is even more difficult. With every failed attempt, he calls me a junkie, a disgusting selfish bitch and a lying piece of shit. I beg him to please stop it and to let me get well. After 20 minutes, I tie off my other arm. Eric is nodding but comes to long enough to spat insults and reiterate his disgust for me. Another 20 minutes pass and Eric won’t stop. My arms are not cooperating, as usual, and my frustration is overwhelming all other emotions.
There is blood in my rig now, from the slight trickle of near hits and I cannot procrastinate the dreaded foot hit any longer. I kick my shoe off and remove my sock. My feet are always bruised now and I am cringing at just the thought of hitting the veins in my tiny, bony feet. I need my Demons by Tech N9ne. The Lyrics are horrible but I use them to pump me up and give me the courage to do things I wouldn’t otherwise do. Eric rolls his eyes, as I turn it up to drown him out.
He fights with me, repeatedly turning it off or down. It is my car, my music and I scream at him to stop. Finally, he surrenders and lets my anthem play. The vein under my ankle bone is small but if I am patient and not overeager with my push, I know I can hit it. It hurts worse than any other vein in my body and I shriek as the blood finally fills my rig. Halfway through my push, my vein blows and pain radiates throughout my foot. I scream and punch the steering wheel. The pain causes a pulse to throb in the blown vein. On the same spot, of my other foot, I connect and push the rest of my poison in. The demons are here around me, within me; I nod off to heroin heaven.
Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.