Chasing The Dragon by Nicholas Kaufmann Read Free Book Online

Corp., Buckshot Hill, N.M. stencilled across its slats.
    Georgia thrashed on the bed with the needle still half-stuck in her hip. From the corner of her eye, through the blood-soaked vision, she saw her father shake his head and turn away in shame.

4.
     

SHE HIDES IN PLAIN SIGHT
     
    If the high felt like cotton, coming down was like crashing into the sidewalk after a long fall off a skyscraper. She felt groggy, sore, half dead. The bedspread under her was rumpled and stained with sweat. The sunlight streaming through the translucent motel curtains hurt her eyes. It felt like someone was working a jackhammer against the inside of her skull. She rolled onto her side and sucked in a breath as the needle twisted and popped out of her skin. She looked down at her hip. The flesh had returned to its normal shade of pink, only slightly red around the edges where the needle had stayed stuck in her all night. The grey, infected skin was gone.
    She sat up slowly. As she put the needle back in the leather pack, her heart jumped. The small plastic baggie was missing. She crawled to the edge of the bed. Below, the bag sat open where it had fallen, the last of her heroin scattered in a brown powder on the threadbare carpet. She must have knocked it off the bed while in the throes of the vision.
    “No, no, no . . .” She tumbled off the bed and tried to scoop it up into the baggie, but all she managed to do was rub it deeper into the filthy fibres of the carpet. She grabbed a tissue from the bathroom and managed to pick up most of the powder with it, but when she looked at what little she’d collected, her heart sank. It was so contaminated with hairs, dust, dirt and bug droppings she’d never be able to separate out anything usable. Cursing, she brought the tissue and its contents into the bathroom and lifted the toilet cover. But as she stood over the bowl, her fingers stubbornly refused to drop it in. Was there enough heroin in the mess for one more high? Trembling, she stared at the filthy powder in the tissue. Brought it closer to her face. Sniffed at it. It didn’t have a scent beyond the bitter hint of dust. What if she couldn’t find anymore? What if this was it? The thought terrified her. She couldn’t let it go to waste. She brought the tissue under her nose. Closed her eyes.
    She thought of her father, struck by a vague memory that she’d seen him last night. He’d only been a dream image from her dosed-up mind, but his disappointment had felt so real. What would he think if he were still alive, if he saw her now, standing over the toilet with a tissue full of heroin scooped off the filthy motel carpet? It shamed her, but her body didn’t care. Her body buzzed in ecstatic anticipation, urging her onward.
    She tentatively put her nose into the tissue and tried to snort it. She wasn’t used to snorting. The gritty powder burned her nostrils and triggered a sneezing fit. She managed just enough of a taste to give her a fleeting moment of warmth, followed by an instant craving for more. She wiped her nose, dropped the tissue in the toilet and flushed it.
    She watched it swirl and disappear down the drain. She would have to score more, and soon.
    Georgia dressed and left the motel room. She brought her works along in her purse. The Buckshot Motor Inn didn’t look like the kind of place to have housekeeping service, but just in case, she didn’t want anyone to find the needle in her room. Outside, it was already hot and sticky in the morning sun. The parking spot in front of Marcus’s room was empty. She remembered him mentioning something about taking his son to a rodeo and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d seen her at her worst last night, jonesing like a fiend. The embarrassment of facing him again would be too much.
    She started walking to her car when someone called, “Good morning, miss!” Shading her eyes against the sun, she saw a squat, overweight man with a mess of greying hair on the porch. He was moving a