Page 23 of Riot Rules
“Y’know,” he says quietly. “I could give you your hit for free. If you felt like using an alternative method of payment?”
Jason looks up from the lighter, the spoon and the smack in his hands. “Huh?”
Kevin’s twitchy, worrisome eyes flit to me for the briefest of seconds, and there. It’s done. The proposal is made. His meaning is made perfectly clear. Bile rockets up the back of my throat, a white-hot jolt of dread blazing up and down my spine. Jason laughs, turning his attention back to his task, snapping the wheel on the lighter so that the flame licks the bottom of the spoon.
“That method of payment’s worth more than all the H in Clarke County, friend. You’re aimin’ a little high.”
The fear that pierced my sides a second ago relents…but not for long.
“There’s always room for negotiation, mind you,” Jason says.
I really did think he was going to protect me. Not because he actually cares about me, no, no. I thought he was going to protect his prize. He’s been waiting a long time to lay his hands on me, I know he has, and some sick sense of propriety has held him at bay, waiting for my period to come in. He’s coveted me, biding his time. But the promise of free smack…
They taught us how addicting the drug was in school, when we were barely old enough to understand what a drug was. The heroin problem in Clarke County always been bad, so they educate us about it young. I’ve never seen Jason take drugs before, but the antsy look in his eyes lets me know that this stuff already has its hooks in him.
“Free product for a week,” Kevin offers.
“Pssshhh. Don’t you know nothin’ ’bout supply and demand?” Jason reaches over and plucks up the needle the first guy used from the coffee table, filling the barrel from the spoon. I stand with my back against the wall, pressing my palms against the dimpled, brittle texture of the peeling paint, terror ripping through me with every inward sip of breath. “A month,” Jason says. “For a month’s worth of H, you can have a couple of hours with her.”
A lightning bolt of fear volleys through my chest. Kevin grins, shrugging one shoulder. The way his pupils have dilated makes him look demonic. “Done.”
Jason grunts as the tip of the needle pierces his skin. He slowly depresses the plunger, mouth open, eyes glazing over, and the heroin snakes its way into his system. Once he’s slumped back into his tattered armchair, he waves at me, gesturing me forward. “Take your clothes off, bitch. I might as well…get to look at the goodddsss if I ain’t…gonna ggget to be the first to…try ’em firssst.” He struggles with every other word, his eyes rolling around in his head like marbles.
He's getting more and more fucked up by the second. Will he be able to chase me if I make a run for it? Will he be able to grab me before I make it to the door? Even if he can’t, Kevin will. Kevin hasn’t shot up, which means he’s still lucid, and he’s looking at me like a cat about to pounce on a crippled mouse.
“Better do as he says,” he sneers. “Wouldn’t wanna disrespect your old man now, would you?”
“I ain’t…her old man, shithead,” Jason slurs. “I ain’t fucking sick…in the head. Wouldn’t wanna…fuck ‘er…if I was her daddy.”
Kevin ignores him. “Come on, sweetheart. Sooner we get started, sooner it’ll all be over. You be good to me an’ I’ll be good to you. You understand what I’m saying?”
He doesn’t look like he’s going to be good to me. He looks like he’s plotting out all of the ways he’s going to hurt me. I’ve never been this frightened before. Not when I’ve caught Jason leering at me when my mother’s distracted, and not even at that terrible tipping point, where the pressure around a bone becomes too much and it starts to break.
Kevin steps toward me, grinning lazily. The smile grows when he looks down and sees just how fucked up Jason is now. He has no clue what the fuck’s going on anymore. His head lolls from left to right like it’s come loose on its axis. His eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open. He’s going to be unconscious any moment, and then Kevin and I will be alone.
“Come on, girl,” Kevin croons, cajoling now. “I’ll cook you up a little taste. It’ll make you feel better, I swear. You won’t mind anythin’ at all after that. Probably won’t remember shit afterwards neither. You’ll still be a virgin. Don’t count if you don’t remember it. That’s what I always say.”
My stomach twists, trying to find something to throw up, only there’s nothing there but bile. The dry piece of toast that I ate for breakfast was digested hours ago. My vision narrows when Kevin closes his hand around my wrist, tugging me toward him.
“Ain’t no skin off my nose, sweetheart. Works both ways for me. I’ve always enjoyed a little resistance.You want this shit or not?”
He moves back to the sofa and sits down next to one of the unconscious men, still holding me by the wrist. With his free hand, he begins to unfasten his belt, slipping the leather through the large, gaudy, cheap Budweiser buckle at his waist.
I panic, and the panic makes me blurt out, “Yes! I want it. I want to feel good, too.” I’ll agree to anything, so long as I can buy myself some more time.
Kevin runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes glittering like cold, black diamonds. “There’s a good girl. I’ll work on that, then. You strip down to your skin. I can’t wait to see what you got goin’ on under that big shirt you wearin.’”
I grab my t-shirt and lift it reluctantly up my body. I’m burning up, alive with shame; apart from a couple of girls in the locker room at school, no one’s ever seen me naked. Not even my mom. If I could fold myself in half, and then in half again, and again, I’d do it, even if I’d never be able to unfold myself again.
The air is prickly and electric on my bare stomach. I drop the shirt to the floor at my feet, a sob building in the back of my throat.
Kevin—hungry and vile—nods, and then gets to work, tapping the brown powder onto the dirty spoon that one of the other men used. He holds a lighter underneath, running the flame over the belly of the spoon, so that the glowing flicker of fire evenly heats the metal.
“Keep going, sugar. Pants next.”
I remove my jeans with trembling hands, knowing what will have to go next: my bra and panties. The powder has already liquified and is bubbling away in the spoon. Kevin traces his gaze up and down my too-thin body, lingering on my chest and the point between my legs where my thighs meet.
“Child, I will strip you myself if needs be. Better if you get the job done yourself, and without a fuss. I don’t wanna mark up any of that beautiful skin.”
