Disposable pleasures

She slipped off the edge of the bed nearly hurting herself. Then pulled between her skinny legs the small coffee table.
Pushed everything off. Magazines, lipsticks, nail polish bottles fell on the floor revealing the table mirror top.
Then reached under the pillow grabbed a small transparent plastic bag and emptied the contents on the table.
The pile of white powder looked like an island in the middle of the sea.

She frowned looking around the room with her big dark eyes.

This room was in an two room apartment on the 9th floor in an old bloc in the “bad” part of the city.
“Bad” in as you don’t want to visit after dark. The blinds were never opened since she moved here and rarely cleaned the place.
It had a heavy smell of closed air, cigarette smoke and alcohol.
The room was in heavy contrast to her obsessive bathing. She would stay for hours until the water got cold.

“Give me my bag” she said pointing to the night stand over the other side of the bed.
I reach over and throw it to her.
After a frantic search finds her wallet and pulls out a bill and a credit card.
Takes the card and starts aligning the white powder in straight lines.

One.. Two.. Three.. Four..

One by one perfectly aligned. She eye measures them cutting off the edges.
“I want them perfect” she says.

Five.. Six..

All lines perfectly aligned likes little soldiers waiting for their grim ending.

Seven.. Eight.. Nine..

A perfect executed ritual.

“My lucky dollar!” she yells throwing her hand in the air holding the one dollar bill while her breasts bounced under the see through dress.
She rolls the bill like a smoker makes his cigarette and licks the ending so it won’t undo.
After that she licks her lips. Slowly. Relaxed. Her red full lips.

We were kids when we first met. She was so innocent. I was so naive.
A girl from far away that came to the big city college. So fucking cliche.
Fast forward nine years later and that kid, that innocent girl, is a ghost now.
Looking at her now, bent over the table holding her dark hair in one hand and the rolled bill in the other I’d have to says it’s all my fault but this won’t change anything now.
It’s to late now. So fucking cliche.

In one smooth short movement from left to right one line of white powder found it’s way from the table through the bill and into her nose.
Another smooth right to left movement and another line disappeared in the other nostril.
She leaned back her head inhaling air and blocking a nostril each time.

Nine.. Eight..

“Come..” she says. “Have some.”
I nod no and I ask her if she has something to drink.
“Whiskey. Search the fridge.”
Two bottles of Jack. One half empty. I pick it up and take two glasses that were on top of the fridge.
I fill them both and give one to her.
Smiles at me and raises her glass and whispers “Cheers old friend!” and we both “shot” the glasses empty.
“Again..” she says throwing me the glass. We repeat.

“Your turn..” and gives me the bill.

Seven. Six.

I lay back on the bed and close my eyes. The whiskey taste is still strong in my mouth.
“Do you remember? … Do you remember how it was not to regret anything?”
I feel her lips on mine and time slows down.
“Do you remember how was to feel?”
Bites my lips and her hair caresses my face. It feels soft and smells of mango.
“Do you remember how one glass of whiskey was enough to drown the ghosts of your past?”
I start kissing her back strongly and biting her lips. Then her neck. She always smelled great. Always found myself reminded of her when I felt that smell on someone else.
“Do you remember when sex didn’t left you with and empty feeling inside?”

I take off her dress and put my hand between her tights and she starts to rub herself on my hand.
When I start playing with my fingers she stops whispering in my ear “I want another drink..”.
I push her off me and I get up. While walking towards the bottle something weird happened. To room was going round and round.
You know, like when you get up fast after you were lying in bed you get dizzy but this time.. way stronger.
I loose control, fall and hit with the elbow the mirror table. One mirror into million tiny mirrors.
Mirror pieces everywhere combined with what remained of the drugs.
How many years of bad luck does this mean?

“What the fuck did you do!!” she started yelling.
She pushed me over so strong that I hit the front door “Do you know how expensive this shit is!? Fuck!!”
In a manic frenzy she started gathering the drugs making a pile of mirror pieces and white dust.

Where’s that innocent girl now? A year passed since I last saw her and time only made her worse.

What happened next is the kind of story you start with “A friend of mine told me..”.
The kind of story where you are “not” involved.
The kind of story you wish a friend told you.

“Get the fuck out!!” she was yelling now. “Get out!” she was yelling while still gathering all the drugs in a pile.
Then, there, in her knees, naked, drunk and drugged she started sniffing the pile.

Five.. Four..

“Get the fuck out!!”

Three.. Two.. One..

Drugs. Mirror pieces. Blood.

I got up fast, took my jacket and got out. The scratching noises of the elevator weren’t enough to stop hearing her screams.
This is it. One less.

I can’t get my head around on how I keep on getting myself in this kind of situations.
Nothing is good or bad anymore and this should have been freighting. But even fear is a distant feeling now.
There comes a time when you find yourself wanting to feel something so much that you don’t mind collateral damage.
Nothing matters when you got nothing to lose.
You don’t care and just throw them like they are things.
Things to use. Things to abuse.