I’m such a fucking hypocrite.
When I worked for DCF, I always told myself that only an idiot could get involved with drugs and become homeless. That if you had a good head on your shoulders, you would never end up that way, that it was completely preventable.
But here I am. Six months in, and my situation has gone from bad to worse, even though I won’t admit it to anybody.
If Carter ever knew... I don’t want to think about what it would do to him.
It’s better that I left. That I kept him from all of this.
“Half.”
I narrow my eyes. “Cray gave it to me. I pulled an extra shift.”
“But you owe me.” She scratches the scabs around her mouth with one hand as she steadies the spoon with her other. “C’mon, Collins, hurry up and take your share.”
“Fine, whatever.”
I don’t hesitate, because that’s how you lose your drugs. I suck my part up the syringe, and tap the tube a couple of times before pulling the shoelace tight around my arm. My good vein puffs out, and I smile a little. Then I take the plunge, close my eyes and let the drugs work their magic. It’s been a couple of days since I’ve had a hit, and it was really starting to affect me. One more, and I’d be on the floor, begging for a hit, just like I used to watch my father do from time to time.
It occurs to me that I’ve turned into him.
But it was inevitable. Somebody has to carry on the family tradition, I guess, and Carter was always too smart for that kind of thing. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, see myself, really see myself, and I’m so scared. The scabs are all around my mouth, and spreading out to the rest of my face. My complexion is blotchy, my hair greasy and lank instead of shiny and vibrant. It’s not me anymore. It hasn’t been me for a very long time, and...and I start to miss the way my life used to be. I miss my job, I miss my brother and his kids, hell, even Marilyn. I’d give anything to listen to one of her mundane house wife tales if it meant I wouldn’t have to be living like this anymore.
I’m too afraid to turn back though, to get help. I’m convinced if my family found out what I’ve turned into, they’d disown me. Carter would be so disappointed, I doubt he would want anything to do with me anyway. So I’ll stay I guess...
Cray likes the girls that come to him for help. He lets them stay here at his house. It’s big, but it’s been one big drug slum for years. It smells like body odor and the stench of burnt heroin hangs in the air constantly, making you crave the shit even more than normal. We bag it up for him once his techs finish making it, so he can sell it. He does work with the Cartel, at least that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t ask questions. I just do the work so he’ll give me a place to stay and provide me with drugs. The stuff he makes is good, takes my pain away like nothing else can. They tell me he’s one of the few that doesn’t pimp his women, so I’m grateful. He knows my story and he’s compassionate...for a drug dealer anyway. He doesn’t put his hands on me, tells me I’ll be fine as long as I do my work right and don’t talk to the cops, and I listen. I keep to myself mostly, have made a couple of acquaintances here, but that’s all.
“Betsy.”r32;
My eyes open slowly, and I see him standing there, his figure fuzzy, almost floating in the air, but I snap out of it. Cray doesn’t fuck around. “Hey, Cray.” I smile lazily.
“You think you can make it down to the store? You’re up for groceries.”
I shrug. He’s right. It’s the two week turn around. Amy’s already done her share. “Sure.”
“Good. Here’s the list. Make sure you stick to it, get exactly what it says. Sarah fucked it up last time.” He glares at her. “Lucky I still give you your share you little shit.”
She laughs at him, and leans back against the pillows tossed on the floor.
“I can count on you Betsy, right?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Good. Make it back before the sun goes down, got it?”
“I...I can do that, Cray.”
He smirks slightly. “When are you gonna let me take you to dinner or somethin? You’re too high class for this shit, ya know.”
I get up, and dust myself off. “I don’t date. You know that.”
“Yeah.” He sighs.
I just go, trying my best to make out what’s written on his list with my slightly blurred vision. My head is swimming, I’m so fucking high, but I don’t even care, because I feel so good. I’m not going for actual groceries, persay. Cray is running low on some vital supplies for his drug factory, and he needs somebody that doesn’t look suspicious to go purchase the products from his connections. Amy, the girl who always shares her drugs with me, and myself, are the only people he trusts to do it. We’re the newest to the addiction, aren’t so far gone that we’ve forgotten ourselves.
Not yet anyway.
I’m almost out of the neighborhood when I see it. Squad cars in the distance, parked next to each other. They’re probably camping out, waiting for a drug bust. It’s normal down here in the slums, so I keep walking, trying to blend in and not seem obvious that I’m on a mission for Cray. Of course they know about him, but he has so many connections that they can’t quite pin anything on him. His girls get arrested a lot though. They try to get things out of them...
Sometimes they wind up dead, because they talk, but I’ve already promised myself that I’d rather go to prison than get shot up by Crays associates.
The siren goes off suddenly. One of them has started to follow me, and they want me to stop. I dont know what to do, but I’m scared. I have some of the stuff on me, that I was saving for later. Fuck, why didn’t I leave it home? I shove my list in my pocket and stop, turn and face the squad car. The officer gets out, and tells me to turn around, put my hands on my head. I do it.
Fuck.
“Where you coming from, ma’am?” He starts to feel me up and down, through my tiny tank and my shorts, but doesn’t come up with anything.
“Home. I...I need groceries.”
The drugs are in my bra.
“Groceries huh?”
I feel him reach into my pocket and rip my list out. “I...”
“Morphine? Your guy running low?”
I shake my head. He turns me around and studies my face for a while. “How long have you been using?”
He can tell I’m new. I guess, being in his line of work, he can tell the difference between a junkie and a newbie. “A while,” I whisper.
“How much is on you right now?”
He knows. Of course he knows. I shake my head. I want to lie, so he’ll just let me go.
Cray will kill me, so I can’t exactly name him. The only thing I can do is pretend it’s all me, and that’s exactly what he wants. Half his girls get arrested and get sentenced, don’t come back. Some get shot up for talking to the cops, and the rest...die from overdoses, or AIDS.
“You should tell me the truth, you know? It’ll be easier for you that way. You don’t look like you belong here. What happened? You get mixed up with the wrong people?”
I sob, a tiny bit. “You could say that.”
“What’s your name?”r32;
I sigh. I don’t want to tell him, but I feel like I have no choice. “Betsy Collins.”
“How much do you have on you, Betsy? I know you have something. I can read you like a book.”
I sigh, and whimper before I cave in and pull the drugs out of my bra, putting all of it into his awaiting hand.
“Come on.” He turns me around, his expression grim as he begins to read me my rights. I know it was too much. That he has to take me in.
“Please don’t handcuff me,” I sob, as I feel metal touching my wrist from behind. “Please!”
“I have to...”
“No!” I scream and start to lose it. I sink down to the ground and curl into a ball. He lets me, but keeps a firm grip on one of my arms. I hear him call out to somebody, probably his friend over there, for backup. I black out for a long time, just cry out that I don’t want to be tied up.
Shit am I a mess.
I think I’m put into a car, but...but I think I fall asleep too. All I remember is...is that officer letting me lean on him as he guided me over to the car. I pass out, and when I wake up again, I’m inside, but I don’t recognize the place. Not at first. But then my vision starts to clear a bit, and I see...grey walls, and bars.
Jail.
I gasp and sit up, looking all around. I’m alone.
Well, at least I thought I was alone.
I see...I see Carter. He’s on the outside of the cell, sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. But is he really there, or is he just a figment of my imagination? Something the drugs have conjured up to give me comfort? “Carter?”
My voice sounds like sandpaper. I’m so weak.
He looks up at me, his face tearstained. I force myself to get up, stagger over to the bars, barely making it there before I grab onto them. They’re real so...so maybe he is too.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Betsy?”
Oh, he’s real.
“How...how did you find...”
“They looked you up, fuck...that’s not the point right now!”
He’s screaming at me.
“Six months and not a fucking word from you! Drugs, Betsy? Fucking...Heroin Betsy!”
I sob. “Just...just go...Carter.”
“Fuck that’s your solution right? Just push me away, right? I mean, who cares about Carter, the only one who gives a fuck about you? You’re lucky I even came when they called me, do you know that? I fucking debated it! I could have just left you here, told them I didn’t have a sister.”
I’m silent, stagger back to the metal bench I was laying on originally. My head is spinning, and my stomach is starting to hurt. I start to feel it...my body wants the drugs, and it won’t relent until it gets what it wants. “I need a hit.”
“You’re not getting a fucking hit. You’re not getting shit! Do you even know what they wanted to do to you? They wanted to send you to court tomorrow...fucking, sentence you. Do you know how much shit you had on you? Enough to put you away for two years...maybe more! Damn it, Bets! Fuck!”
I bring my knees up, hug them to my chest, and lean my head against them. “So what’s stopping them?”
“They know your story, that’s what’s stopping them,” he says darkly. “Gavin is helping you out and I’m considering posting the fucking bail money, but...shit, only...only when you agree to my terms, and I mean it!”
“Why?” I whisper. “You can leave...enjoy your life. You don’t need to help me.”
“You’re my sister. I’m so fucking...so fucking mad at you, Betsy, but damn...you know I’d do anything for you. We’re supposed to be a team, remember? What the hell happened, huh? You just up and leave because things got hard? I know he was a fuck that did sick things to you, but shit, I was trying to help you through it!”
“You did it. You left.”
“That was fucking different. I came back for you. You turned your back on me.”
I’m silent.
“You’re going to rehab, until they say that you’re okay to come home, and then you’re going to see a shrink every single day, as long as it takes, without complaining. They say you’ll have to do probation...house arrest, and community service. You’ll stay with me and Marilyn, and you’ll live by our rules. Accept it, or don’t and I really will leave you here. You can rot, turn into dad with half a fucking brain and no memories of us at all.”
I sniffle, hug my knees even tighter to my chest. “I’m so scared,” I whisper, calmly. “I’m so scared and the drugs make me feel free, Carter.”
“They’re not the answer. You should know that...after everything else.”
I nod a little, sniffle.
“Do we have a deal, Betsy?”
“Yeah,” I whimper. “Yeah.”
He sighs, and pounds on the door so the guard will come get him. “I’ll post your bail. We’ll be on our way home in a couple of hours. I’m telling you, it’s going to take a long time for me to come around. Don’t expect me to be the same person you remember. I’m gonna ride your ass until you get your fuckin’ act together.”
He says it angrily, and I say nothing in return. Then he just leaves...he leaves me here alone to think about it all. It’s crazy. I was just at Crays, getting high, ignoring the rest of the world and suddenly I’m here, and Carter is here. He rushed here, for me, after I pushed him away, told him I never wanted to see him again.
He still came, because he still loves me. He’ll always love me, and he’ll always be my brother.
And I was fool to think I could just...walk away from that.
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