Grimy Toilet Seats. Bloody Noses

I went to this really grimy party once. It was in this hall place; with speakers stacked high and booming really loud. It had rusting sinks and dirty toilet seat lids you know the kind. The windows and doors all had to stay shut, to stop the sound getting out. If the police came, man everyone would be in jail the amount of illicit substances going round. From what I could tell the drug of the night was Ketamin. It was so hot, sweaty and generally energy sapping in the hall that I had to get out of there..

But you couldn’t just go outside, you had to get past the crowds, of screwed up junkies and then once at the door you had to give a good enough reason to let 5 seconds of sound out. I stumbled into the toilets first; there was an open window in there and I wanted to breathe some air whilst I thought over an excuse. Like I’m going to faint or something. All these pretty girls, were just laying out on the floor, delicately tangled up in their own sick and hair like it was just another one of those weekends; just another one of those nose bleeds. Not so pretty girls could be found sniffing white powder off the not so pretty toilet seats. When I got to the tiny window; there were some kids smoking out of it; inconsiderate drug fiends.

I finally got out of that sweat pit and into the parking lot; I saw this guy strewn across the floor covered in sick with a jaunty speech thing going on. It was my science buddy, my beautiful best friend. We used to mess about with Bunsen burners and steal fire proof tongs just for the hell of it. He had this angel face when sober, you know the kind you’d just melt for; but now it was all dirty with a greenish tinge, I barely even recognised him.

That’s what I hate about people who hang out together simply because of the fact that they all do the same drugs; at the end of the day, the kids who can’t keep up are just left behind. At the time, we were still only fifteen, and just because this poor soul couldn’t handle three fat lines of a dirty drug he’d never tried before, he was left to rot in the cold streets.

With some help I managed to sit him up on a near by wall. On doing so he immediately began to throw up; man it smelt like rancid pineapple it was disgusting; it went all over my shoes making this kind of horrific plastering of blood and what he had for lunch that day. But I stayed with him; I stayed with him until 3am that morning. I stayed with him until he was sober. So he could walk home and face his parents, with out having to see the shame in his mother’s eyes.

That was my first exposure to ketamin, and my last.

Grimy Toilet Seats. Bloody Noses

Rachael  Hope

Bridlington, United Kingdom

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