The Intersection

So here I was, back at the intersection.I decided I'd hit the dealer first. Seemed like a good choice to me. Heroin was now my drug of choice and had been for about a year or two. I'd done a good job of keeping it a secret from my friends and family, but they all knew now and dispised me for it. I go in give the guy a fifty and fix up in the living room. The high flows over me like a train.

I nod in and out from the dope. No more sickness. I've cut up my supply into 3 small piles, and put them in different bags. One goes in my shoe, one goes in the fifth pocket of my pants, and the third is stashed in my sock. I do this in case arrest or robbery. After the bags have been tied and put away in their respectable places I hit the door.

I've decided to hit the bar next. Not knowing what I would be in for. I opened the door and sauntered in.

This bar in particular was your average run down shithole of a dive. Classic rock on the jukebox, the 60 year old man with the permenent whiskey face making a deal with the crack whore in the corner. Dollar beers and late nights, (which I could tell this would be another one). Gang bangers and bikers alike, sitting in the nagahyde pool.

I sat down and ordered a PBR. Looking down the room I saw the usual faces, pouring the sauce down their throats as they try to get through the night. As I stood up to use the bathroom I noticed an unusually fresh face. 99.9 percent of the people that come here usually show signs of wear and tear, a coming apart at the seams. This girl however, appeared fresh off the boat, she couldn't have been any older than 20, and her face was strikingly beautiful and unscathed.

After using the pisser I decided to take a shot. Not like I have anything to lose. I went and introduced myself. I ran down the usual list of things to talk about when you meet someone. Turns out she was from the suburbs (go figure) and she had heard this bar served underage kids (which it did). I bought her a beer and talked some more with her. After a few rounds she told me the real reason she came down to my neighborhood watering hole was hopes of copping some dope. "Well in that case, I'm your man."

This girl was obviously new to the game because she gave me the money and waited at the bar. I debated on whether or not to rip her off, and decided against it. This was quite unusual for me, but she was pretty and I hadn't gotten laid in about 6 months. Junk seems to kill the libido, and even though I fixed up an hour beforehand, I was in the mood since seeing this piece of fresh meat.

I'd gone back up to the apartment and bought another bag. Of course before I left I made sure to give myself a cut, stashing some for later. I proceded back downstairs to her waiting patiently in the bar. I told her of a house I knew where we could fix up. I could have taken her upstairs, but my dealer is weird about things like that, so I settled on an abandoned house.

She was pretty hesitent at first, but I talked her into coming inside. I'd had a kerosene heater stashed here for about a month, and it wasn't long before the room was heated to our liking. Before too long we were on the matteress. It'd been so long I'd almost forgotten how it felt to have sex. After we were done, I cooked up a shot for her. I wasn't very much at all.

This was when the trouble started. I think it had to be with her being drunk when I shot her up. Her pupils were the size of a pin, she could hardly breathe. I'd seen it before, she was fucking OD'ing right in front of me. The last thing I need is to be connected to an underaged girl dying from an overdose and having her parents press charges. I grabbed her bag and my works and bolted out the door.

It's about a week later now. I saw the story on the news. I was interviewed by the police, but they had no crucial evidence against me. I'm back at the intersection now, waiting for the bus to pick me up for my next meeting. I wonder who I'll meet at the bar tonight....