Peter was a vegan and anarchist. He could have gone hours and hours on how there was no need for government. He was hilarious if you heard him. Ha! The jokes that everyone had made on his stupid speeches! But he was respected-oh yes. You could laugh and muck around with him, but you had to watch yourself. Unfortunately I was new and I got carried away too much.
I was laughing like hell, my stomach aching madly. I turned around and I saw his face all over me. He was livid. His hands moved for me, and the smirk on my face changed into a scream of pain. Damn it if I screamed that night. I went to bed with a black eye, fat lip and several bruises all over my body. But I had learned my lesson.
“ How long is it going to take Hoover?!”
Oh I forgot. My nickname is Hoover. They all call me that, because I love sniffing. Oh yes. You do a line of sniffing and then you feel… MMMMM…Lady Heroin takes away all the pain.
“Okay, Okay…”
I went to the table to get the little plastic bag on the table. Before reaching for it with my hand, I stared at it. It was beautiful. You couldn’t even imagine how a little plastic bag like that could bring away all the pain, make you happy, and change your life. I mean what is the point of having a God? You don’t need that. You pray and pray day after day and all you get is more and more disasters. No feeling better, no happiness.
I handed the lighter and the little piece of heaven to him. His eyes glowed. He looked like a small kid who had just been giving the coolest toy for his birthday present. His hands fell down to the floor to grab a syringe. The thumb contracted and picked up a handkerchief. It was covered in orangey spots. They were from last night. We had Ben and Chloe over, and they joined our party. We had no crisps, cola, cakes or that kind. We didn’t need that. We knew better.
Anyway Pete took the syringe up to his arm and to his mouth. He tightened up the belt closing in his muscles, so tight you could see his violet veins sticking out. You could see his eyes were full of pride after a few seconds. The pupils enlarged, and the cornea glittered with the slightest glimpse of light.
There was a sudden thump on the carpet. The syringe had fallen. Pete slowly leaned on the couch and lay his head down. I turned towards the table and sat down on the first chair I could put my hands on. Life was hard. Oh yes. Lately I wasn’t myself anymore. Well, you might say it’s normal to change when you’re on drugs, but my problem was different. After I had left home I had thought that my life was never going to be the same as everyone else. Everyone that is normal, like you. I wasn’t going to go to college. I wasn’t going to find a job and get a little flat near the university. I wasn’t going to get married and have kids. I wasn’t going to be a stereotype, like you.
I turned around to have a look at Pete. He was fast asleep. Or at least I thought so. But I looked more carefully, and I saw he had turned all blue.
“ Oh God!” ( I don’t even believe in God, I thought!)
My legs stumbled across the carpet and I almost fell over. I looked at Peter. He was a dump. His eyes were staring at the ceiling, lifeless. I tried to shake his arms. I tried to shake his legs. I tried to make him breathe. I tried to.. I don’t know what I tried at that point. I was desperate. Peter had been my best drug friend. He always helped me out when I was in trouble, and now he was dead. Lifeless. Drug filled.
My eyes ran across the room and I tried to stop them. It wa
