Page 1 of Ice
One
Istaredattheplasticbaggie in front of me; the white powder inside calling to me, begging me to release it, and use it. In fact, every fucking part of me was begging me to open it. Every part of me wanted it. The buzz. The awakening of my neurons and cells. It sounds weird, but since I was forced to detox, I felt dead inside.I felt like a building with half of the lights switched off. How the fuck did I manage before? How was I supposed to manage now?
I reached for it, and as soon as my fingers touched the bag, a sense of peace washed over me. Decision made. I’d opted for my sanity. My sense of self. My fucking mind. I neededmeback.
“Hey, man, how are…what the fuck…”
I froze in place, watching numbly as Torch stepped up closer, and snatched my salvation from my fingers.
“Are you fucking serious with this shit?”
He was pissed, and I really didn’t understand why he had the right to be. It wasn’t his life, or his decision. It was mine.
“Give that back.”
He shoved it into his pocket, and folded his arms.
“Get fucked.”
Why couldn’t he see that I needed it? Like I needed the air we were breathing. Like I needed the blood pumping through my veins, feeding my racing, thudding heart.
“Please.” I hated the tone of my voice just then. Weak. Pleading.Desperate.
He sighed, backing up a step.
“Where did you even get that from?”
I dropped my head, scratching my fingers over my scalp.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s all there is. Torch, please. Just this one time. I just need it to get me through the day.”
I felt his fingers grab my shoulder, and he squeezed.
“I’m sorry, brother. You know that you can’t go back onto this shit. You can’t ever use it again. Once will become again and again, and you’ll be back to living continuously on this shit again. Until it kills you.”
This was living? I lifted my head to stare at him, wondering if my eyes were always sore like this before. They were burning. Jesus, they were wet. I rubbed at them again.
“I can’t…” My voice was practically a whisper.
“Can’t what?” He was leaning close.
“It’s too hard.”
He leaned closer. “Ice, come on, man. You’re already clean. The hard part is over. This is just some residual fucking urge that you have to fight.”
I lunged from my chair, grabbing at his cut.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? How dare you tell me the hard part is over? How fucking dare you?!” I threw a fist at his face, and caught his chin.
He cursed, and shoved me back, making me topple over the coffee table.Jesus, that hurt.
“You fucking idiot. This isn’t going to make me give you the fucking coke!”
I felt that burning in my eyes again, and my cheeks were wet.
“Please. I can’t do this. I can’t… I don’t want to do this. It’s killing me.”
He went to the kitchen, and I heard a tap running, and then he was back, crouching in front of me, offering a glass of fucking water.
