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Drabbles
A first MeetingTW: MENtions of drug abuse, mentions of prostitution, bloodooc; I have all my information about withdrawal symptoms based on research. So I do apologize if anything is incorrect." So scared as she trembled, back pressed against a brick wall. " 
SCARED.
SO SCARED AS SHE TREMBLED, BACK PRESSED AGAINST A BRICK WALL.
SOMEWHERE.
SHE WAS LOST SOMEWHERE IN THE… SHE COULDN’T THINK. WHERE WAS SHE?
THE FRENCH QUARTER… RIGHT? SHE WAS ALMOST SURE THAT WAS RIGHT.
BUT WHAT WAS SHE DOING THERE EXACTLY? WASN’T SHE MEANT TO BE DETOXING? IN SOME REHAB FACILITY IN SOME RURAL TOWN, AS IF BON TEMPS WEREN’T RURAL…
NO, SHE’D LEFT, FLED. SHE’D BEEN IN NEW ORLEANS FOR MONTHS NOW.
GOD, HER HEAD WAS SWIMMING, HER STOMACH TURNING.
ANOTHER GROAN ESCAPED HER LIPS AS PALE BLUE EYES FLUTTERED OPEN, INSTANTLY SNAPPING SHUT ONCE MORE AT THE POUNDING IN HER HEAD CAUSED BY THE MINIMAL LIGHT FROM THE DOOR ACROSS THE ROOM. A BATHROOM MAYBE? NO, THAT COULDN’T BE. SHE ONLY HAD ONE BATHROOM IN HER APARTMENT AND IT CERTAINLY WASN’T ATTACHED TO HER BEDROOM.
A MAN’S VOICE. GRUFF AND HARSH.
HE SHOUTED SOMETHING AT HER JUST BEFORE SLAMMING HER INTO THE BRICK AGAIN.
SHE CRIED OUT.
WHIMPERING.
FLINCHING.
TERRIFIED FOR HER LIFE. WAS THIS THE END? SHE DIDN’T KNOW
HER EYES SLID OPEN A FRACTION OF A MILLIMETRE, LOOKING AT HER SURROUNDINGS. NO. SHE MUST BE DREAMING. THE FURNISHINGS WERE FAR TO NICE. THE WHITE DRESSER LOOKED TO BE ANTIQUE, THOUGH SHE COULDN’T TELL FOR SURE.
HER STOMACH TWISTED AGAIN, TURNING HER ATTENTION AWAY FROM THE CHEST OF DRAWERS. SHE GAGGED AT THE TASTE OF BILE AS SHE STUMBLED FROM THE BED AND TOWARDS THE DOOR THAT SHOWED A SLIVER OF LIGHT FROM BEYOND. HER HAND WENT TO HER MOUTH AS STOMACH ACID BURNED UP HER THROAT.
BARELY MAKING IT TO THE TOILET, SHE RETCHED, GAGGING AND SPEWING WHATEVER LITTLE SHE HAD IN HER STOMACH WHICH PROVED TO BE VERY LITTLE. SHE SHIVERED AS SHE LAID HER FOREHEAD AGAINST THE TOILET SEAT, HER FINGERS CLUTCHING AT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE OVAL, HER KNUCKLES WHITE.
HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN SINCE SHE’D HAD A FIX? WHAT TIME WAS IT? HOURS PROBABLY, THREE FOUR MAYBE MORE?
SHE SUDDENLY COULDN’T BREATHE. THE IMPACT OF HER BODY AGAINST THE BRICK KNOCKING THE WIND FROM HER. AND BEFORE SHE COULD RECOVER, THE MAN’S MEATY HAND WAS AROUND HER THROAT.
SHE’D ONLY BEEN IN SEARCH OF HER NEXT HIT.
NOT HAVING REALIZED HOW CLOSE TO OUT SHE WAS UNTIL SHE HAD SNIFFED BACK THE LAST LINE. SO SHE’D MADE A DEAL. SEX FOR HER NEXT FIX. IT WAS SIMPLE, HOW SHE MADE THE MAJORITY OF HER MONEY ANYWAY.
SO THIS, THIS WAS HOW SHE WAS GOING TO DIE. IN SOME BACK ALLEY. IN THE FRENCH QUARTER.
BUT JUST AS SOON AS SHE MADE HER PEACE, SAYING A LAST AND FINAL PRAYER, HER BODY SLUMPED TO THE GROUND.
HER EYES OPENED TO SEE A RED-HEAD, a young woman, STANDING ABOVE THE MAN WHO WAS NOW DEAD.
SHE WATCHED AS THE young woman LICKED BLOOD FROM HER FINGERS.
SHE MUST BE DEAD.
IT WAS HER FINAL THOUGHT BEFORE BLACKING OUT.
HER EYES SNAPPED OPEN. HAD SHE PASSED OUT AGAIN? NO MIND THAT. WHERE WAS HER JACKET? THE JEAN JACKET SHE’D BEEN WEARING? SHE KNEW SHE’D FIND THE SMALL SILVER FOIL HIDDEN IN THE RIGHT POCKET.
SLOWLY SHE PUSHED HERSELF UP AND STUMBLED BACK INTO THE ROOM. SHE NO LONGER PAID MIND TO HER SURROUNDINGS, NOT NOTICING THAT ANOTHER DOOR WAS CRACKED OPEN. SHE HAD SEEN HER JACKET ON HER WAS TO THE BATHROOM. ICY EYES LOCKED ON THE JEAN FABRIC CRUMPLED ON THE DRESSER SHE’D NOTICED EARLIER. WAS THAT WHERE SHE’D SEEN IT ON THE WAY ACROSS THE ROOM? SHE WASN’T SURE AND DIDN’T PAY THE QUESTION ANYMORE MIND AS SHE MOVED AS QUICK AS SHE COULD TO THE JACKET.
HER FINGERS LOCKED AROUND THE PIECE OF CLOTHING, FINGERS DELVING INTO THE RIGHT POCKET. EMPTY? THAT COULDN’T BE. SHE TURNED THE POCKET OUT, FINDING NOTHING BUT A GUM WRAPPED AND BUILT UP FUZZ.
MAYBE SHE WAS WRONG. MAYBE SHE HAD PUT IT IN HER LEFT POCKET. HER FINGERS WERE QUICK TO EXPLORE THAT POCKET IN MUCH THE SAME WAY. TURNING IT OUT WHEN SHE DIDN’T FIND WHAT SHE WANTED. WHAT SHE NEEDED.
“F***.” IT VERGED ON A CRY.
SHE SAT, MORE LIKE CRUMPLED TO THE GROUND, BACK AGAINST THE DRESSER. THAT’S WHEN SHE SAW HER. THE WOMAN FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE. SURELY THIS WAS SOME TRICK PLAYED BY HER MIND.
“LOOKING FOR THIS?” A MILKY WHITE HAND HELD UP THE TIN FOIL SQUARE SHE’D BEEN LOOKING FOR.
HADLEY SAID NOTHING, TRYING TO PRY REALITY FROM HALLUCINATION. FOR SURELY THIS WOMAN, THIS MIRAGE, WAS A HALLUCINATION.
“I’LL GIVE YOU A CHOICE, HADLEY.”
HOW DOES SHE KNOW MY NAME, THE BLONDE THOUGHT, HER BODY SHIVERING DESPITE THE FACT SHE WAS ACTUALLY QUITE WARM.
“AND I DO HOPE YOU MAKE THE CORRECT ONE. IT IS NOT EVERY DAY I GO ABOUT KILLING IN MY CITY.”
HER CITY? SUDDENLY THE RED-HEAD WAS MERE INCHES FROM HER. HOW HAD SHE MOVED SO FAST? HADLEY HADN’T EVEN SEEN IT.
”YOU GET CLEAN AND I CAN QUITE LITERALLY GIVE YOU THIS CITY.”
A PALE HAND REACHED OUT TO TUCK A STRAND OF BLONDE HAIR BEHIND HADLEY’S EAR BEFORE CONTINUING.
“OR YOU LEAVE NO QUESTIONS ASKED. BUT DO KNOW… I DO NOT GIVE SECOND CHANCES.”
THE END OF THE YOUNG WOMAN’S STATEMENT WAS SPOKEN FROM SEVERAL FEET AWAY, IN THE BATHROOM. HADLEY’S BLUE EYES FLEW TO HER, GROWING WIDE AS SHE WATCHED THE STRANGE WOMAN UNFOLD THE FOIL AND TIP THE WHITE POWDER INTO THE TOILET BEFORE FLUSHING IT.
HADLEY LET OUT A SOB AT THE SITE. HER BODY HURT SO BAD. HER MIND NOT WANTING TO FOCUS AND FIGURE OUT WHAT WAS GOING ON, UNABLE TO PIECE TOGETHER THE EVENTS THAT LEAD HER TO HER CURRENT SITUATION.
“I… I CAN’T.”
IT WASN’T THAT SHE HADN’T TRIED. GRAN HAD THROWN SO MUCH MONEY AWAY ON HER, SENDING HER TO VARIOUS REHAB FACILITIES. HADLEY HAD ALWAYS LEFT BEFORE FINISHING THE PROGRAM THOUGH, BUT SHE’D ALWAYS GONE HOME. THIS TIME WAS DIFFERENT THOUGH, SHE’D GONE AS FAR FROM HOME AS SHE COULD IMAGINE. SHE DIDN’T WANT TO SEE THE LOOK OF DISAPPOINTMENT ON HER GRAN’S FACE, DIDN’T WANT TO FEEL THE PITIED GAZES FROM HER COUSINS.
“I CAN HELP.”
THE WOMAN’S VOICE WAS IN HER EAR AGAIN, HADLEY STUMBLING QUICKLY TO THE SIDE. HOW DID SHE KEEP DOING THAT? SHE DIDN’T ASK, HER MIND INSTANTLY SCREAMING AS SHE WATCHED THE RED-HEAD CUT INTO HER OWN FINGER WITH A FANG LIKE A VAMPIRE…. REALLY? NOW HADLEY KNEW SHE WAS DREAMING, HALLUCINATING, MAYBE SHE WAS IN A COMA. MAYBE SHE’D GONE INTO CARDIAC ARREST. HAD SHE ODED? WAS SHE IN THE HOSPITAL?
“YOUR HEART IS RACING. I PROMISE NOT TO HURT YOU.” A PAUSE, “YOU CAN STAY AS LONG AS YOU LIKE, BUT IF YOU LEAVE… AS I SAID I DO NOT GIVE SECOND CHANCES.”
HER WORDS WERE PUNCTUATED WITH THE QUICK SWIPE OF HER BLEEDING FINGER OVER HADLEY’S LIPS. HADLEY WENT TO WIPE IT AWAY, DISGUSTED, BUT THE RED-HEAD GRABBED HER WRIST.
“MY BLOOD WILL HELP. TRUST ME.”
F*** IT. IF SHE WAS HALLUCINATING, IF SHE WAS DREAMING, WHAT COULD IT HURT? HADLEY RAN HER TONGUE ALONG HER LIPS. HER MIND BEGAN TO SWIM MERE SECONDS LATER, THE WORLD AROUND HER SEEMINGLY VIBRATING. SHE LEANED INTO THE CHEST OF DRAWERS, INTO THE WOMAN, INTO WHATEVER WOULD SUPPORT HER WEIGHT. THE ACHING SEEMED TO FADE, HER BRUISED AND BATTERED BODY NO LONGER HURTING. AND IN THAT CALMNESS, THE BLONDE DOZED BACK OFF INTO THE LAND OF SILENT DREAMS. " f*** it. if she was hallucinating, if she was dreaming, what could it hurt? "
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