I'm on a mission

"Dude, what the fucking fuck are you talking about?!" I yell as I try to lift up his head. 

He is mumbling again. I know that mumble. We are sitting outside the playground. There is a gated fence along the perimeter but children never play here. I am slumped against the gate. It is hot out. My cut off Dickies are sticking to my legs with junkie sweat mixed with crusted blood droplets and some left over puss on my sock from when my abscess busted. 
I took the gauze off. I have became an expert on my own surgeries. I took the area and stuck in a brand new clean needle to suck out the puss. It was a small one anyway. It didn't stink. It didn't require a trip to the clinic. But now on a hot fucking day I have to wear socks. I can't let bum piss from the curb splatter on my wound. I like my leg. I want to keep it. In fact, let me get out some alcohol wipes right now and wipe that bad boy down. 
"Tracey?! Did I make it to the clinic?!" He mumbles some more. 

Don't even bother to try to get up now, dumbfuck. Of course he got his dose. It is two in the afternoon. The dosing window is closed. He was supposed to meet me here to hit a lick. This mother fucker sucked on two klonopins and washed down a phenergan . Jesus fucking Christ men are useless. He knew I needed money. Now he is here sucking his own dick. He can't get his head out of his lap. 

I'm hot. My glasses are starting to fog up. I take a sip of my 40oz. My milwalkees best is getting warm. Fuck. I need money. I'd sell my ass if I wasn't so fucking haggard at the moment. Not that it has ever stopped dates. I guess I have been so sexually attractive passed out on the sidewalk, the dates used to shake me and wake me up. I have turned a new leaf though. My man said no hooking. 

This isn't him though. This is my homey. His one eye floats to the side when he is twisted. This wall eyed fish fuck is high and I am sick. 

"I'm leaving you dude." I shake him as I stand up. "I gotta bounce. I can't babysit you."  

My leg hurts. I need more that a few Tylenol threes. I need a god damned hit. I hestitate for a split second. I hate leaving him like this but I can't wait. The drug dealers go inside by dark and I live outside. I need to drag my ass down to the dope track. I drag my leg. I got a gangster lean and a purse full of rigs. Let's do this. I am on a mission. 

Comments

  1. holyholyholyMay 5, 2014 at 3:02 PM

    My god.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415May 5, 2014 at 8:23 PM

      Does that mean you liked the story?

      Delete
    2. UnknownMay 6, 2014 at 1:25 AM

      yeah, i get it. i was on a mission like that once too. i think that mission ends without me ever accomplishing it. now i'm on a whole notha mission, no drugs, going to somewhere drugs could neva take me. the drugs got me thru my 20's with my total lack of coping with reaiity skills. but now i got some otha calling, idk what my purpose is, but i kno it involves recovery...anyway those who serve best don't always kno the why. keep writing girl. just keep writing!

      Delete
  2. Delaney JaneMay 5, 2014 at 9:10 PM

    Well, I liked it :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownMay 6, 2014 at 1:04 AM

    I got a gangster lean and a purse full of rigs. Lets do this.... if you choose to accept this mission mr ethan hunt errrrr tracey h...... this message will self destruct.


    I think the single greatest attribute of your writing style is the vivid imagery your words produce! Every single time I am there in the scene with you almost as a participant but more an anxious observer. Well done...well done.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415May 6, 2014 at 11:51 AM

      I'm just seeing this. Thanks for reading. You could have been with me but I would have left you because worked alone

      Delete
  4. AnonymousMay 6, 2014 at 2:36 AM

    I have became an expert and my own surgeries. /grammar

    ReplyDelete
  5. AnonymousMay 6, 2014 at 9:48 AM

    Had an inpatient recently ivdu heroin & crack with a below knee amputation came in for a non related surgical issue. no signs of stopping just stitched him back up n sent him on his way again

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415May 6, 2014 at 11:50 AM

      I remember that from working at a hospital and being that person

      Delete
  6. AnonymousMay 6, 2014 at 2:26 PM

    what did u work as? and how did it feel to be that person? i felt a strange mix of desperately wanted to "reach out" and "help" in some way but at the same time wanting to respect the person's wishes and just treat them like a normal human being...we ended up joking around and chit chatting and i sorted out his transport asap (as we both knew they were desperate to discharge and get back to it)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415May 7, 2014 at 9:14 PM

      I was a counselor in the department of psychiatry providing addiction counseling

      Delete
  7. AnonymousMay 9, 2014 at 6:25 AM

    Wow so your life still revolves around addiction.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415May 9, 2014 at 7:50 AM

      No not really. This is my outlet. I am finishing a book on recovery and have a wonderful little family. I had a lot of things pent up inside me and this releases them so I don't feel inclined to use

      Delete

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