p o w d e r

                                    

                                          

✫ ༒ Joey ༒ ✫
I couldn't stop myself when my feet began walking towards Shane Hollands car. When I sank down into the passenger seat, I felt a new level of self-loathing. 
I was an addict. 
Addicted to the high. 
Addicted to drowning out the fucked up mess that was my life. 
"Lynchy," Shane said as I now sat in the passenger seat, "You look like hell." 
And I felt like it too. 
"Yeah," I bounced my leg up and down.
I'd had a night that consisted of, finally calming the kids down and popping a few valium only to have my father return home and beat the shit out of me while I was too high to fight back. 
So, when I woke up to new bruises littering my body, I decided I couldn't fucking do this anymore. 
It was only a matter of time before I was back to my old ways. 
And now was that time. 
"Was surprised to get your message last night, kid," Shane spoke, "Haven't heard from you for a while. Thought you switched suppliers or something." 
No. 
I'd been trying to get clean, for the sake of my siblings. 
But here I was falling back into my old habits. 
"Listen, lad, it's like I said last night. I just need some benzos. Same as always. Just something to relax my brain," I reached into my pocket and retrieved the cash, before dropping it onto his lap, "It's all there." 
Shane picked up the cash and gave it a quick count. I then lunged for the glove box to retrieve my fix.
"Weed, Shane?" I hissed, tossing the bag back into the glove box, "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?" 
"There's been a situation with my carrier," He explained, "A temporary delay in delivery." 
"Fine," I bit out. 
I knew it wasn't fine. I needed something to take the edge off, and I wouldn't leave until I got it. 
"Got any oxy? Or hydro? A few benzos? Come on, Shane, don't throw me under the bus like this," I was desperate. 
Fucking pathetic.
"Like I said, kid, there's been an issue with my supplier," He tossed my cash back to me, "Which means it's going to be a while before I have your usual." 
"How long are you talking?" I asked, lighting up a cigarette, "A couple of days? A week? Because I'm fucking drowning here, lad. I can't wait." 
"Relax, Lynchy," He interrupted, "I know you're in a bad way." 
"Yeah, I am." 
"Which is why this is on me," He handed me a small paper fold, "No strings." 
I unfolded the paper and stared down at the off-white powder.