Released (Caged #3)(22)

I was only a couple blocks away from Max’s place at any given time, and I knew there were things I could do to get a bed for the night, some smack, and maybe even something to eat. I didn’t want to go that route though there were several different options. There was even a good chance he’d recruit me to go out and sell for him.

Yeah, Tria would love hearing that. Daddy’s a dealer.

Every day it was harder to stop myself from going there. I told myself that it was just to get a dry place to sleep for the night, but I knew what would happen if I went there. There was no way I could be that close to junk without finding a way to get it.

I was totally f*cked and totally f*cked up.

No job, no place to live, and no Tria.

Wandering in what appeared to be an aimless fashion, part of me knew I was spiraling toward Max’s abode. I didn’t want to go there, but my feet went in that direction anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut, stumbled a little, and reminded myself again that if I went that way, the slight glimmer of hope would be gone.

There was a little doorway just off the street. It might have been the entrance to a shop or something at one point, but it didn’t look like it had been used for some time. There was a padlock on the handle of the door. I veered right and shoved my shoulder up against the doorjamb. The door didn’t move or anything, but it kept me from going forward.

It also started to rain.

Fucking rain.

Was this shitstorm ever going to end?

Knocking the back of my head against the doorway actually helped me focus a bit. I considered just going and finding someone to annoy in the hopes of getting into a fight, but the people around here would never engage in a fair fight, and I didn’t need to be stabbed again.

What the f*ck was I going to do? How was I going to make myself better for Tria if I had even less now than I did when she walked out? No job, no address. No address, no job. Outside of Yolanda, I didn’t really have any friends I could turn to. Even if Tria hadn’t been staying with her, I was pretty sure Yolanda meant what she said. Asking her for help was no longer an option.

Shivering in the doorway, I ducked my head between my knees and wrapped my arms around my shoulders. I tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my head that told me how to make it all go away—all the hurt, all the pain—just for a little while.

She said she wanted me to be clean.

She said for the sake of the baby. There isn’t a baby yet. Just one fix. You can get clean again.

“She said…she said…” My voice broke, and tears mingled with the flow of rain over my head.

I don’t want to be like this…I don’t…I don’t…

The light rain turned into a downpour, and heavy clouds blocked out the sun almost entirely. There was a bit of shelter where I was sitting next to the building, but I was going to be soaked before too long. Not that it mattered—nothing else mattered except getting Tria back.

I had to find a way.

I had to do something.

What? What could I do?

I glanced up the street where I knew I could score all the dope I wanted for a little indignity. My throat bobbed as I swallowed, and I ran the back of my hand over my face to wipe away the rain. I might not have any money, but there was always a way if I was willing.

Just one needle.

One time.

I’d only use it to get myself back together again, and then I could think straight and figure out what I should do next. A flash of a daydream became a potential future when I saw myself telling Tria about the one last time I used. What I would have to do to get the money for the drugs slammed into my head.

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.

What else could I do?

My choices were becoming fewer and fewer.

Could do it for the money instead of the smack…

No.

Fuck no.

Just one needle.

I pulled myself up using the door as leverage and then stumbled down the street. I told myself I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, but looming ahead of me was a group of whores sharing needles and blowing guys as they pulled up in their cars.

Only a couple blocks away.

Gunfire startled me, and I looked to the opposite side of the street where two guys were running out of the alley. They jumped into the back of a rusted-out Monte Carlo, which then sped off down the middle of the road, nearly taking out one of the hookers in the process.

She flipped it off and screamed a few choice words at them as she stood in the middle of the street.

“Hey, man?” An elderly guy with tightly curled white hair on the top of his head stumbled from the edge of the building. “You got a light?”

“Uh…yeah…” I managed to mumble. I pulled my lighter out of my pocket and handed it to the guy.

“Got any cigarettes?”

Nice.

I handed him one, which he lit with a shaking hand before thanking me and dropping back to the ground near the edge of the building where the rain wasn’t quite as heavy. He crawled a few feet to a large cardboard box with a concave roof so he could smoke without the rain putting out the cigarette.

My attention went back to the junkies near the corner. They were all standing in the rain, shooting up and looking about as miserable as they could be. Except that I knew they didn’t feel miserable. They felt f*cking fantastic.

She wants you clean.

“She doesn’t want anything from me,” I muttered. “I’ve got nothing to give her. Better off this way.”