Luca: The come downMature

Eventually, I fall half asleep like that - curled up on the floor and hugging Gemme. Even my highs are different when she's around. Had I been left alone with that much heroin inside of me, I'd have been clawing up the walls or sitting under the bed with the gun, waiting for whoever it was that was coming to get me. It's nuts, and I know it is. I hate being half asleep. My body is numb and practically comatose while it tries to heal itself, but my mind is awake, if a little groggy. So I'm just lying there thinking, hoping the drugs will stay in my system long enough for me to fall asleep properly.

I guess after this, Gemme is probably going to suggest rehab. I don't want to go.  Rayn went once, when his parents made him. It lasted all of two weeks and it didn't help him at all. I can imagine it now, the nursey type people trying to get me off the drugs, thinking it's a physical thing too, but they'd only give me a replacement drug, something new to get addicted to. Oh and everyone freaking out when things start flying across the room and breaking when I'm in a bad mood because of them. I can't imagine that would go down too well.

 And I don't want to ask Gemme or Ike to help me with it, because it's weird and now I've discovered the pain that goes with the mental probing as well, and... Well I like it, to be honest. The addiction, I mean. It's something to do, some kind of purpose.

I've said before that drug dealing and taking is all I really know, other than violence and all that other shit. But y'know, I was shaped by junkies, I was taught by them, half raised by them, lived with them for the years of my life where I was most impressionable. I don't really want to just leave that behind. It's too late to save my education, and with a criminal record like mine, I'm never going to get a job. I mean, what would I put for the life skills bit? Drugs, fighting, killing and sex, and I can play a few instruments. Yeah. My prospects look good.

Well that and the fact that I'm going to be stuck in this body for the next however many years, possibly forever, with those memories in my head, adding new bad ones all the time. Really, can you blame me for not wanting to get off the drugs?

But then there's also how it makes me feel, that sweet peak of physical and mental craving just before you get the hit, the same way the build up to an orgasm is better than the actual orgasm itself. Same thing, just a different way of feeling it. Sure, I can heal the bad effect of the drugs away, I never said anything about healing the good feelings away.

As I sleep, my body is healing itself without me asking it to. That good old self preserving reflex, eh? This is why I ignored the fact there was too much of the drug in the needle, because I know it'll never kill me, regardless of how much I sometimes want it to.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I seriously wonder what Gemme sees in me other than a fucked up guy who hadn't even realised til now how addicted he is to drugs. These thoughts fade soon, though and my mind goes blank for a while, as I try to stop my thoughts from turning to why I'm such a fuck up.

Except that doesn't work - it never does.

The emptiness in my mind as I fight to keep it blank and thoughtless only somehow reminds me of the empty feeling I felt that made Christmas the first worst day of the year. It was an empty day, because it wasn't really Christmas. My dad had walked out on us about a week before - there was loads of screaming and shouting and I didn't see, but I'm pretty sure he got nasty, since my mom always told me I got my temper from him - and so my mom didn't really feel like celebrating, and neither did I, but every Christmas after that, with or without her, was just as shitty and empty and depressing, because it was just a reminder of the second major shit event in my life. The first was being born.

The memory plays out, regardless of my attempts to stop it from surfacing, and as I remember the look on my mom's face when she caught me looking under the tree for something to take my mind off it, the craving I felt when me and Gemme were walking into town returns.

Of course, this is the part where I start crying and I can't stop it because I'm not sober enough to hold back, and I'm not awake enough to hide it.

I roll over and tighten into a small ball in Gemme's arms, wishing someone would just wipe my memory and let me start over.

The End

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