Blood and vomit sprayed walls of a toilet cubicle.
Her boyfriend didn’t want her to take it, the hypocrite. He wouldn’t let her use his needles. Luckily for her, her father walked in. Seeing her dilemma, he gave her his supply.
Made from fascination, curiosity and internal snow.
She couldn’t do the needles herself so he had to do them for her. Her beautiful intake of breath when the point went in the vein always made them smile.
It wasn’t any quieter in here than it was in the rock concert. The music echoed off the ceramic walls.
Her body shook, not used to the sudden rush. He had to grab her head before she smashed to pieces on the toilet bowl.
Heroin was what everybody wanted, what everybody needed, what everybody carved. Sweet delight was theirs.
Blood ran cold from the corner of her lips.
The Prince arrived at Sleeping Beauty’s side and slowly pushed the needle into her vein. It would take hold soon. He’d never need to kiss her.
It tasted like sherbet, entrapping all the senses rather than just the one.
Reliving curiosity.