"Do you know where you are?"
I hear a disembodied voice. Are they talking to me. I feel a sting on my face, some heat. My legs feel heavy. They are numb. I feel a heaviness, like I am trapped inside my body. I am dreaming. Dreaming about football, on a tiny screen. Like that hand held game I used to play as a kid. I see the green on the field. Is this an I formation? My vision is off, like I am heading up a tunnel. I see football at the bottom.
As I scan the room, I feel a sting again.
"Tracey...Tracey wake up..."
I grab my face to stop the pain. Then, I feel the weight of someone on top of me. I feel my shoulders being shaken. That slap again. Then a face. I see a familiar face.
"Why are you slapping me?!" I ask, grabbing my cheek indignantly. I feel the pressure against my legs again. That pressure is coming from the floor, my friend is over me. His legs have pinned my legs to the floor. Why am I on the floor? I see the glass above my face. I reach up to touch it. It has a smooth, round end. Wait...this is a table. Why am I under a table?
"Why am I under a table?" I ask this person I now recognize as my friend. I see his eyes are watery. His cheeks are red, he is out of breath. He looks as if he ran up a flight of stairs. He pushes up his glasses as he grabs a cigarette with shaky hands.
"You ODed bitch," he tells me in his loving way. He pushes his hair out of his face as he lights up his Newports.
I shake my head as if to say no.
"You fucking died bitch, believe that" he scolds me as he grabs my hand to help me up.
I plop myself on the couch. "No fucking way," I tell him. I don't believe him. The last thing I remember was him pulling the needle out of my arm. I was NODDING, he is being dramatic.
Suddenly, I feel a pain in my chest. I feel this pain. I feels like someone punched me, kicked me. I rub between my boobs,
He takes another drag of his cigarette, points at me, and tells me "Exactly!! I was doing CPR for 20 minutes. Don't try to tell me, I was here."
I feel the drugs hit me again. A heaviness fills my limbs. I push myself back into the couch. Overdose? This was only the second time I ever tried heroin. I couldn't have overdosed. There is supposed to be a white light, not football. I want to argue but I feel the calming sea of warm water pulling me down again. I curl up to enjoy the moment, drowning from my own ignorance.