Heroin

This is a short story I just finished a few days ago... enjoy  There is no title, for now I just call it heroin.



The writing on the walls could no longer contain him. Ezekiel’s body was trembling and his mind was racing as he tried to find ways to fight off his addiction. His tight and ripped hooded sweatshirt was draped over his head while he was sitting on his knees. His wallet was thin and his pockets were empty. It was overcoming his mind, body, and spirit. He no longer controlled himself, the drug controlled him, and it was time for him to get his fix.
He opened his dresser drawer and found only a piece of chalk and an old rusty syringe. Tears streamed down his prematurely aged face as he tried to process the emptiness in his drawer and the emptiness in his heart. He grabbed his syringe and chalk and started writing an addition to the plethora of words, quotes, and sentences already covering his four black walls of his room..
“I say goodbye and goodnight… I am a monster. I am the “Son of Sam”. I am a little brat.” he said and at the same time he was writing those exact words on the last empty space on the wall.
His bloodshot eyes glowed in the black and empty room. He stood up and ran towards the door of his apartment and proceeded down the hallway. He passed the elevator and burst open the stairwell doors. He was claustrophobic and being inside the elevator could have made him go crazy. His knees were trembling as he tried to hurry down the steps. When he reached the main floor, his heart was beating incredibly fast. The outdoors brought joy to his mind and heart, he was about to escape the wretched prison he called home. He could barely keep his thoughts from racing past him, he was about to get his fix, and that was all he cared about.
The street outside his apartment complex was filled with cars; rush hour traffic was passing through and the honking of horns made Ezekiel incredibly anxious and distraught. He needed to escape the deafening noises the cars were making. The air was freezing and the buildings around him were closing in. He trembled with fear and started to race down the long and rousing street. What felt like hours was only minutes, his legs felt very heavy as he darted into a tight alleyway which was home to a dumpster and a pay phone. He picked up the pay phone and inserted his only quarter into the coin slot. His fingers were trembling in the freezing cold. He dialed the numbers and listened to the ringing. Each ring felt like a series of sharp stabs in the back of his head. One ring, he squinted his eyes in pain. Two rings, he tried to grasp onto the wall. Three rings, his legs were barely able to support the rest of his body. Four rings, he let out a loud scream as the line went dead. He slammed the phone onto the wall and dropped to his knees on the dirty, rough, and cold ground. Tears flowed out of his eyes and he kicked the wall with every bit of strength in his body. He lay on the floor for half and hour while his skin slowly froze.
Ezekiel stood up and ignored his frost bitten skin. He exited the alley and proceeded down the now quiet street. Each person that passed him on the street he asked for drugs. After was seemed like an hour he asked a man,
“Hey bro,” he stuttered and slurred his words “do you got any heroin man?”
“Yeah man,” replied the scruffy, mid 20’s man. He was wearing baggy clothes and a beanie, “just follow me; I’ve got some good shit, my name’s Philly by the way.”
Ezekiel didn’t respond, he was ecstatic just to finally get his drugs. He was unable to think, he just smiled and followed Philly down the road into another alley way. This alley way was very gloomy and colder than the previous one. It felt too tight for Ezekiel’s liking. He started trembling and grasping onto nearby dumpsters for support. Philly reached into his pocket in a manner that suggested he was reaching for the drugs, but instead, he pulled out a large knife and pointed it at Ezekiel.
“Whoa, whoa man, take it easy, put the knife down.” said Ezekiel.
“Don’t you fucking tell me to do anything”, yelled Philly “and don’t you dare move.”
Ezekiel, now trembling with fear, faced a tough decision; he could have chosen to run or to defend himself. His skin was frozen and his legs were weak, either choice could’ve been potentially fatal. In a split second, Ezekiel charged Philly and tackled him to the ground. He was caught by surprise. In an act of defense, Philly lunged at Ezekiel with the knife cutting his bicep. Ezekiel was unable to feel the stab due to his horribly frost bitten skin. Ezekiel finally managed to pry the knife loose. He tried to clench the knife properly and when he did, he quickly stabbed Philly. Ezekiel’s attacks felt euphoric, he liked watching this man’s pain, and he wanted to hear Philly scream. At the same time, tears were streaming down his face; he didn’t know what had become of himself. When a large pool of blood was around Philly, Ezekiel stepped back and fell backwards dropping the knife on the ground next to him. He started sobbing and holding himself in the dark and cold corner of the alley. His mind was now filled with anxiety and fear. He had become a monster, he had become a murderer. Ezekiel stood up uneasily and slowly walked to the dead body which was now surrounded by frozen blood. He checked Philly’s pockets and found a bag of heroine, a cell phone, and some money. He took the cell phone and the heroin but left the money.
Ezekiel ran out of the alley way with frozen tears on his cheeks. As he ran away from the scene he ran into many people lingering on the street. He thought everyone knew what he did. Anxiety was filling his mind and body as he tried to comprehend why everyone was staring at him. Soon after, Ezekiel looked at the cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. When the dispatch officer answered Ezekiel he said while sobbing:
“I just committed a terrible crime, I killed a man…” he then hung up the phone.
Ezekiel stopped in his tracks and look around him, to his left was a large parking complex. He ran up to the top floor and sat on the edge of the building. He looked at the bag of heroin as he started to hear the sirens of an army of police cars approaching his location. When the police noticed that there was a man sitting on the edge of a parking structure, they rushed to his location. Ezekiel was confused, he didn’t know what he had become, and he was not himself. He started looking around nervously and pulling his hair out of his head. As he looked at the ground below him, a sense of vertigo overcame him. Then, unexpectedly, he knew what to do. He opened the bag of heroin while tears streamed down his face and dumped all of it out onto the street below.
“I hate pain, I hate the pain”, screamed Ezekiel “I hate the pain, I hate the pain.” he screamed again. “The truth is I’m scared, and you’ll watch me fall like New York in an earthquake.” He looked down at the street for one last time; crowds of people were standing behind police tape.
Ezekiel closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, while thinking of everything he loved, and let himself fall to the ground enjoying every minute of it. He finally overcame his addiction.

Epilogue

When the police rushed to the body, they found inside his sweatshirt pocket a letter, to whom? No one has found out. His mind was fragile, civilization was not able to control him, he was a bright young man, yet the choices he made were much to the contrary.

“So it starts, from one impurity held in place by loveless security, always thrown around and beaten by squinted eyes that soon bear turned back, abstract views through broken bottles of brandy. I'm questioned all my life why I kept on saying that I didn't even ask to be here, you made that choice for me, enrolled me in your schools and church and in your god forsaken military. What cost do I pay for being born of you? My life, enslaved by passions, held away from me. Who is my mother? Where is her grace? Where is that subtle joy I crave? It's gone, or should I say never existed anyway. Through blurry winter clouds and snow melted by anger - my subscription, my addiction. If I had one love in the world: you tried to take it away. A pound of nuts is simply not enough to keep my rage at bay and though I didn't kill you, like you tried to do to me, I'm just as guilty because I would have wanted to be free.

-Ezekiel Marshall”

FIN

By Mitchell Stafiej