This was it. That feeling was coming back and she didn’t know what to do. Her body began to twitch. Always the first step. A sweat broke out on her honey colored skin. Dead fucking giveaway. “Fuck. Fuck, I need this,” she told herself, cursing her addiction. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t done what he had to her, she’d never have gotten on this shit.

She raised her shaking hand up to the lock, shoving the key in as fast as she could. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she’d be okay again. She turned the key, feeling the lock turn, allowing her to open the door. She pulled the key out and slammed the door shut once she’d walked in. Her high heeled shoes clicked underneath her as she locked the door, then ran into the kitchen. She pulled the drawer open and found her box. Her special kit. She pulled it out and pulled the small plastic bag from her purse. She shoved everything that was on the table to the floor, papers flying everywhere. What did she care? She was about to get a release that was better than an orgasm, and she knew it.

She opened the box, hastily, pulling her spoon out. She poured the white powder onto the spoon, smiling. She knew what was going to happen. She grabbed her lighter from inside of the box and flicked it. It didn’t take the first time. “Fuck,” she muttered. She flicked it again. Bingo. The flame came up. She held it up under the cold metal spoon in her hand and let the powder begin to boil.

For a moment, her eyes became transfixed on the flame. The beauty of the colors of fire always astounded her. From the top, a deep orange that faded into a lighter orange with a slightly yellow tint. Her favorite of all, however, was the deep blue that would burn her in a second if she touched it. She loved that shade of blue. She loved the way that the colors all mixed into one when looked at from a distance.

She looked up at her powder, seeing that it was almost done. She began to move the flame around, letting the rest of the magic drug that she was melting finish. The acrid smell was seeping through her apartment. She didn’t care. She’d gotten used to it over the past year she’d lived there.

She then realized something that she had yet to do. She hadn’t put her tourniquet on yet. “Fuck me in the asshole, I’m stupid,” she muttered, grabbing the syringe quickly. She brought the needle to the hot brown liquid, pulling up on the stopper, sucking it all up into that thin needle.

She grabbed her tourniquet, setting the syringe down on her magic box. She tied it as quickly as she could, using her teeth to pull on one end and using her hand to pull on the other. All she had to do was wait for her veins to appear. She didn’t see them working at first, so she gave them just a moment. She grabbed her syringe and took it into her hands. She flicked at the side, allowing the air bubbles that were in the liquid to come to the top. She didn’t need to die today, after all. Had she just shoved that syringe into her vein, the air would have gotten into her bloodstream and caused instant death. She didn’t need that.

She pushed up on the stopper, letting the air out and some of the hot liquid. She needed to ensure her safety, and she knew that. She looked at her arm again. Still no veins. She put the hot syringe between her lips and brought her fingers up to her arm, smacking it a few times. She needed to find one. She needed to find one now.

She looked and could see a small blue mark appearing on her honey colored arm. This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for. She took the syringe back into her hands and pressed the needle right at the skin. “This is it, babe. Do what you’ve gotta do to be normal. At least for a little while,” she thought to herself. She tossed her long brown hair over one shoulder and pressed the needle into her skin. She yelped at the feeling, but knew she’d hit a vein when she looked down at the smack she’d just heated and saw a little amount of blood flow into it. She sighed and then pushed on the stopper, releasing the heroin into her system.

She pulled the needle out once all of the liquid was gone. She set the syringe on the table and brought some gauze, quickly, to her new wound. She didn’t mind this wound, however. Oh, no. This was a wound she’d be very pleased with here in a moment or so. She pulled the tourniquet off and let out a content moan. She tilted her head back on her chair, feeling her eyes rolling back in her head as the heroin went throughout her system.

“Truly,” she began, then swallowed, her throat dry. “Truly, heaven must feel like this,” she whispered.