400 dollars for a gram is a bit too excessive if we were anywhere else but here. I bought it, and a pipe from him. He led me to a remote part of the city, hidden away from most prying eyes. It’s a run-down area. Tin roofs above tin walls around sod floors, and old blankets hung in the doorways instead of actual doors. He leads me to a small shack tucked in between two such buildings. Pillows were laid out across the floor as we pushed our way in through the ratty curtain. He took a seat on one of them, and I on the other. From beneath the pillow, he pulled out a needle.

“Already got mine ready.” He said.

“Aren’t you worried that that’ll get your contract canceled?”

He shook his head

“I already looked through the contract. There’s no mention of drugs being prohibited in ‘em.”

He held out his arm and looked for a moment while I packed the rocks in the pipe.

“Do you have a lighter?”

He tossed me a small one, and I lit it underneath the pipe. While the glass heated up, I watched him pull out his belt and tighten it around his elbow to show the veins. My heart thumped. How long had it been? Almost three weeks, since I was able to snort a quarter of a gram...now.

I put the pipe to my lips and held it in between my teeth.

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What are you doing?

I ignored the voice of the ego and pulled in the white smoke pouring down the pipe. It burned my lungs momentarily as I released it through my nostrils.

You...you wretched soul. What are you doing?

My head swam as the meth swam in my blood. Eli stuck his arm with his needle and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he pressed down on the syringe.

“Oh, that’s so good.” He muttered as he pulled the empty needle out, and loosened the black leather belt. “So...good.”

I took another hit off the pip.

I am telling you to stop. What good will this do?

“Takes the edge off.”

“Fucking right it does,” Eli muttered as his head slumped into his lap.

Is this what you did with your life before me? No wonder you’re so pathetic.

“I’m not…”

Fuck it. I’m going to die soon anyway. According to the PID, I only had a little over 20 days left to live. I took another hit. Euphoria flooded through me, and I felt as if I could conquer the world. I begin digging my finger into the dirt of the floor. Once the bowl is empty, I fill it up again until the gram is completely spent. I stay awake punching, and slamming my forehead into the ground to dissipate the flow of energy; encouraged by the notifications that Low-Grade Regeneration was advancing with every injury I inflicted on myself.

It takes about 20 hours for the euphoria to wear off. It was early morning when I found my way back to the inn; exhausted and shambling like a corpse. The scarce people who passed by made wide arcs around me as I glared at them, daring them to do something. As soon as I was back in my room, I collapsed for what felt like a brief second, and I awoke to some pounding on my door. I stir and open it.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Just that no one has seen you in nearly two days.”

“So?”

“So we were worried about you.”

“Fuck off, I’m going back to sleep.”

I slammed the door again and shambled to the bed when my PID dinged. Fuck. I punched my pillow and pulled out the annoying machine.

“Got more. Round 2?”

Eli messaged.

“Yes. Same place?”

“Ok.”

I pushed out of the door. Jack was waiting at his door.

“Lyle! Where are you going?”

“God shut the hell up,” I said.

My head throbbed, and all that was on my mind was getting out of this funk. Getting passed this tiredness, and letting this headache pass. Yeah. Once I was out of this funk I’ll quit. I wasn’t addicted. No. I just needed one more hit. Just one more hit, and I'll stop for good.