Muddy Dragons

You know… They never tell you how the first pull of the silky white smoke immediately perverts your mind. That first sensation makes you willfully ignorant to the burning powder’s lingering vinegar stench. How, right after your first dragon hunt, you strategize how to be more effective in your succeeding chases. The art of smoking from aluminum foil replaced by heated spoons, needles, brown bubbling water, and spotted inner elbows. In a matter of days, you become an in-home chemist and amateur nurse.

Heroin took over my life early. I’m only 28 so technically I still have my youth, but it's been with me for years. Hell, I still used up until a couple of weeks ago and I loved every damning moment. Stealing and lying to my family in a sweaty desperation, using my girl’s money for quick fixes; my creativity had no bounds. I promised myself I would never be an addict. You would never catch a video of me on the internet with my scarred arm hanging from my car window, mouth gaped open, and eyes rolled back in my head. There was no way the dragon I chased would cause any collateral damage.

…

Faint traces of light seeped through the tiny blinds in the cost-effective studio under my parents’ home. Not too bright, but enough to cause slight irritation as I tried to prolong my rest. I gave in, rising from the bed mimicking the undead. Faint groans audible to anyone who happened to be paying attention.

They don’t tell you about this in the movies, but every day starts off in tranquility. A sense of divine clarity during the morning sunrise set the tone for the first 10 minutes or so. Small particles of dust floated and shone in the beaming sun rays. A half-drunk bottle of water vibrated in concert with the small tremors created by my shaking leg. Everything was visible. The stillness and silence perpetuated a sense of security and freedom I seldom had. Most mornings, I admired these pockets of peace. Then it happened. It always happened. That moment of clarity vanished, replaced by the repulsive urge to refuse whatever food I took in the night before. My stomach and veins telling me that it needed its breakfast. Pressure builds at your temples, your arms slump and the world around you begins its endless carousel.

I released a familiar moan and scurried to my stash. The space around me filled with the shuffle of various papers, trinkets, and other items that hindered the path to my prize. The sickness, as I typically called it, wasn’t all bad. Sure, you’d vomit from time to time, tears running down your face, and an unquestionable amount of regret seizing your body, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I just needed to find that freaking bag!

The dried mud-like substance sat still in the spoon. The silver spoon served as bedrock for the small brown mountain sitting on top, the water I mixed in sloped and formed natural rivers before dissolving into a full solution. I wiped the drool from my mouth and continued my chemistry experiment. Small bubbles boiled and popped as my lighter cooked the bottom of the spoon. The now golden-brown solution was ready. I drew everything into the syringe and set it aside. A stray belt laid close to me. I wrapped it around my arm and pulled it tight with my teeth. The veins on my arms pulsed and protruded through my skin showing old track marks and crusted blood. I jammed the needle into my arm, tilting back into my chair and shutting my eyes to the world around me. I likened my thumb to a trigger-happy policeman, ready to shoot.

“Talis Exavier,” my mom yelled from the top of the staircase. Fuck. They never want to talk to me about anything good. Shit. I yanked the needle out of my arm and winced. Don’t hide it over there you idiot.

“Yeah?” It felt like I'd been punched in the head.

“Have you seen those earrings with the ruby gems? I can’t find them anywhere.”

She hasn’t worn those things in years, why now all of a sudden? “Nah, but I’ll keep an eye out.” Large, obnoxious thumps broke through the silence and my dad came barreling down the basement. His hulking figure dwarfed my skeletal frame. He huffed with each step.

“God dammit, Talis! You stole them, I know you did.” His face almost washed a cranberry red. It wasn’t inviting.

“I didn’t steal anything, Dad. Jesus.”

“Don’t give me that. Ever since you moved back, everything has gone missing. My dad’s World War Two memorabilia, laptops, my wife’s jewelry. Where the hell is all my stuff going?”

“I didn’t steal shit, leave me alone.”

“You did; I know it but can’t prove it yet. Just know, you will pay back what you owe. Mark my words.” My mother shadowed my dad as he made his approach. His thick mustache and heated breath invaded my space and forced me to stare into his disdainful gaze. He knew I was guilty, but with nothing to show for it, he couldn’t convince Mom to make the move to run me out of the house. The two of them stomped back up the stairs and let the door slam. I shuddered at the sound.

Back to it. The heroin was still a warm golden brown, and I pushed the needle back into my veins. I tilted back again and closed my eyes. Every time I get high it’s as if I was experiencing something new for the first time. My heart raced; my breath staccato as I pushed the plunger with incredible force. I could feel it. The heroin coursing through my system was liquid nirvana. Everything felt good. Warm hands wrapped around me, like a baby being lulled to sleep by the heavens. I melted into my chair. Why would people not want this? I didn’t know if I would ever stop. It was all amazing. The chair that held me still. The spoon that mixed the dope.

I loved my parents. They always blamed me for missing items, which was a fair assumption, but how could I tell them all their shit was traded for heroin? I made sure I stole only what I could pay back. Each time it was something my paycheck could cover. The pawn shop loved me, more than I did. Those drives I took to the shop were always in silence. The engine of my car roared in a loud protest. If I turned on the radio, some song with a damning, relevant analogy would come on. It was best to bear the silence and not deal with the guilt. They wouldn’t understand why I did it. The wave of relief I immediately get when the dope hits my bloodstream. The way I felt so light, almost as if I was floating. The world around me pauses for a moment, leaving behind the incessant mundanity created by societal norms and regular everyday people. If they had some of this dope too, they would get it. Everyone would.

…

My mom would let out a soft high-pitched cheer whenever my sister came around. It’d been almost a year since Lizzy walked out, but my folks sure acted like nothing had happened. Her and I… well, we were tight in our younger years, but recently it’d been difficult to relate with her.

“Talis, Lizzy is here,” my mother called up from the other world.

My heart pounded harder than normal. I hadn’t seen her in over a year. Something along the lines of, “He is absolutely ruining this family and driving you apart, but you don’t see it” was the last thing I heard before the door slammed behind her. The sound of the door crashing against the threshold reminded me of jail cell doors closing behind me. Everyone inside of this house locked away and removed from reality. Our little façade, where I was still innocent, only made sense from the inside. I wasn’t innocent, I knew that. Lizzy knew that too, but I called her crazy anyway.

I jammed the plunger. Blood and small drips of heroin seeped through the tiny incision in my inner arm. A tear fell from my chin. I sighed, calling out to Mom, “Awesome! I’m finishing up this game and will be right up.” I hid everything before entering their world.

I was slow in my ascent. Someone tried to whisper, but I heard them clearly. Liz asked why I was still holed up in the basement. Apparently, I didn’t deserve shit and was a virus. I clutched the railing and pushed forward. Showtime.

“Liz!” I said with forced excitement.

She frowned, looked my way, nodded, and turned back to our mom. A smile returned as the two conversed.

“How’s everything been?” Come on. Just talk to me, asshole.

She jutted around. She could have been a dragon the way steam seemingly came her nose “I’m fine, Talis. Thanks for asking.” Cold.

I pushed. “Want something to drink or anything? Has anyone offered you anything?”

“I don’t think I need to be offered anything at my parents’ home. Does that make sense?” I couldn’t catch a break. My face swelled.

“I guess you are right!” I gave her my best fake laugh and sat next to her on the living room chair.

They looked good. Dad and Mom huddled around Lizzy, showing pictures of trips they’d recently taken. They smiled and laughed while reminiscing. Each shared a story and I sat there, half listening. You think they’d want to hear about how high I got the other day before work? Or how I fucked my lesbian coworker after, and we took big ass bumps of coke before we did it? The family room was warm and snug, tugging me closer and urging me to be present. It was rare for me to come upstairs during the day. It had been so long since we were all together.

“What about you, Talis dear?” Mom's voice woke me as I nodded off.

“Huh?”

“Tell us a bit about what you’ve been doing. Catch Lizzy up!”

I had a brief meeting with my father’s and sister’s gaze before turning away. “Uhh. Just working. I go to work. Cook for ten to twelve hours. Come back here and game out.” Dad grunted.

“That’s all?” Liz asked.

“I got this new game. Remember Oblivion?”

“Sure.”

“Well, a new one just released. Haven’t played it yet, but I’ve been on Oblivion getting ready. You should check it out with me sometime.”

“No thanks. Don’t you have anything else better to do? Like, I don’t know, stop mooching off our parents?”

“Oh, it’s been so long since we were all together like this,” my mom interrupted. Thank God. “We should do something.”

My sister and dad audibly lamented at the thought. No secret as to why.

I agreed to tag along, and they slumped over. I promised not to ruin it.

…

Mom believed a day in the park was what we all needed. She wouldn’t stop saying it the whole way there. Her “two children and her husband definitely needed it.” As if, but I’d play along. My head throbbed. The breeze cooled and dried the sweat gathering on my forehead and the laughter of other families distracted my urges. I sat on the grass, rubbing each blade while the blissful sunshine and cool air lifted me to some long since forgotten magical realm. A realm where the living thrived.

“How long has it been since we’ve done something like this?” I asked.

“Oh, so long!” Mom was overcompensating. “I remember when you and Mack were growing up and we’d bring you here. You were always competing. Seeing who was the fastest or could slide down the ‘coolest.’” My dad let out a grunted chuckle. I’ll be damned. He actually approved of something. The sunlight pervaded the dark aura cast over my family. The air was feathery, giving each of us a revitalizing kiss as we relaxed.

“Yeah, and I would always do the coolest shit.” I replied, breaking the comfortable silence.

“As if, Talis.” Liz responded in a faint, familiar tone. They had to have seen the shock on my face.

“What do you mean ‘as if?’”

“You weren’t always doing ‘the coolest shit’. You lost your fair share of times.”

“Never happened.” I smiled.

“Let's finish it, then. The end all be all. A race to settle who’s better. Like we used to.”

“You’re on.”

My sister walked over to me and held out her hand. She lifted me from the ground and helped wipe off the dirt from my back. Her brushes felt like Mom’s when we were young. Any time we scraped knees, bruised elbows, hit our heads, Mom was there to fix whatever was hurting. She’d let us know that whatever seemed to be the problem then, was only temporary. Liz came in one final time and wiped my cheek.

“Are you okay?” Her tone, soft and private.

“Yeah…”

We went to the starting point and stood there for a second, passing pleasantries and smack talk. Mom raised her hand in the distance.

We readied. Set. And took off.

It was even for the first stretch. Liz made sure the distance we ran was long enough for a fair chance. The wind whistled between our lanes. No winner was clear with each stride. We were neck and neck. I felt confident in my speed, but my chest and lungs begged to differ. I tried running faster. Each step lighter. Each stride longer. Mom’s image obscured by Liz’s back. The space between us grew, leaving room little chance for a comeback. I tried, reaching my arms out in a last-ditch effort to reach my sister and close the gap. She was just too far ahead.

By the time I finished she was already resting. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and looked in her direction. She smiled gently. She was radiant. The setting sun’s rays bounced off her clean gleaming skin. I wondered if she struggled during that race. Did she know from the beginning that I stood no chance?

Maybe I would have won if I was still high...

…

“Bro, you nodding out over there?” My buddy asked.

I didn’t want to respond. I felt so warm. Snug. This was all I needed. The heroin made me its child, quietly resting against its stomach. All I had to do was keep coming back. This high was extraordinary. Each breath tickled the hairs in my nose, the tears in my eyes cooled, my head swayed gently to the rhythm of whatever my friends were playing. A low moan escaped my mouth.

It was all interrupted by harsh muffled thumps. I couldn’t hear much but something was going on. I saw black and smelled vomit near my nose. A hard hand smacked the shit out of me. I didn’t respond to the first one. For all I knew, it was just a nightmare. It reminded me of the time my ex smacked me for calling her some other name in bed. The second smack felt real. I woke up to the group crying.

“Dude, you were blue as hell!” my buddy from earlier said.

“Did I just OD?”

“Just about. You gotta stay up.”

I shrugged it off. “What time is it?”

“2:30.”

“Shit, I have to get to work!”

“No dude, stay here. You can’t drive. It’ll ruin your high.”

“Get off of me and let me go.” I pushed him out of my way, and everyone came at me. Holding me to the ground.

“Tal, no. Call out.”

“If I call out, then I won’t get paid. Then we won’t have any more dope money.” Their grips loosened.

I picked myself up and ran out the door.

My key scraped the edges of the keyhole before it finally gave in. The plan was simple: get home, get dressed, make it to work. I careened from the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood. The world spun around me again and the thick, unnatural haze forced me to sway in every direction searching for some image of clarity to latch on to. I came to in the wrong fucking lane. Fuck! I jerked the steering wheel over and narrowly dodged the oncoming car. In the rearview, the car fell into a nearby ditch, and I veered off so they wouldn’t catch my plates. My heart felt like a timpani, beating quickly to the music of a near death experience. A familiar cadence.

I pulled over and swung open the door, throwing up whatever remained in my stomach. Tears and blood running from my face. I’d seen people fade out before. Folks who were very much alive, hoisted away into a sleep-like paralysis. Except, there were no dreams. No flying freely through your imagined sky. No higher sense of clarity. Just darkness, and the inability to move even a single muscle. You’re confined to that space unaware of the embarrassment awaiting. The cellphone videos, the unattended children calling the police. A living statue with no aesthetic value that no one wanted to see.

I could have killed someone. I could have killed myself. My arm, spotted with red track marks. Was this all I’d ever be? Every empty promise I made perverted my thoughts of another fix. “I wouldn’t get hooked.” “I will only steal what I can get back.” “This will not get in between my family and I”. Horseshit. These were merely the lies of an addict before the dope flows through their veins and coerces them to leave behind all logic and chase that imaginary dragon. Nevertheless, I’d be alright if I could just get home and shoot up.

Inside my parents' basement, I put on each article of clothing gingerly. I couldn’t fixate on anything. Thinking about everything and nothing all at once. As I struggled, I saw it. The golden-brown powder sitting on my dresser. It stuck out like a mushroom in the mud. Nothing else mattered. I jammed the needle into my already dirty arm and pushed the plunger.

It hadn’t been the same. The euphoria I’d come so acquainted with was replaced. That mountaintop felt like a molehill. The dragon, nowhere in sight.

I barely made it to work.

…

A hard night’s work provided much needed clarity. Paying attention to food orders instead of the embarrassment and guilt for nearly committing manslaughter was damn near therapeutic. It wouldn’t last long. My high disappeared hours before, and all that remained was the road and my thoughts.

When, in all of this, did I forget how beautiful the world could be in its most basic form? The night sky wrapped everything in its dark embrace. Streetlamps shined without that Saint-like aura I’d normally see when inebriated. The lights on passing cars were dull, eliminating any urge to wince as they approached. Nothing was profound. Everything was neutral, and I enjoyed every minute of its mundanity.

I found myself back at the park and sat on the bench that my family used a couple of weeks prior. The wooden surface was much harder this time around. The solid bench panels supported the weight of my body as well as much larger people, day in and day out. I rubbed it. Incredible. Once built, it stood on its own legs without the need for its craftsman to continuously come back and maintain it. Built to withstand all the pressure the world could throw at it during its lifespan. Something so regular, so common, gave me comfort. I laid my head down and let the bench catch all of my tears.

No one was awake when I came home. The low drone of my dad’s snores barely broke through the night’s stillness. I crept around. There were so many good memories here, but also little reminders that some memories were pawned for heroin. I let out a sigh and looked in the fridge, a plate of food laid there with a note attached. Figured you’d be hungry after work. Had your mother make enough for you as well. I thanked my old man. I was starving.

The next morning began as all the rest. That genuine sense of security and joy to be living said its good mornings. I could always count on it to assure me everything would be okay. But just as soon as it came, it went. My head tossed, belly quivered, and spotted arm incessantly tapped me like a hungry child. I could never escape the sickness. I was a prisoner, chased by a dragon whose only goal was to keep me chasing the muddy one. Each chase culminated in violent flu-like symptoms. What choice did I have? Shoot up or die. The answer was simple.

Nothing was there. Not a single damn grain of heroin. It couldn’t be happening. Of all the fucking times. I shivered through my cold sweat. I didn’t have any fucking money either. Fuck.

The phone rang while I rummaged through my pile of mess.

“What?” I said.

“Dude, I need your car. Can you drive me somewhere?”

“Where to?”

“I know of a house that has lots of shit we can pawn. An Xbox, a couple of nice sized TVs and other shit. Just need a ride over there and help stealing it all. I have a couple guns too just in case someone happens to walk in. Of course, I’ll throw a couple bags your way.”

I wiped my mouth as the drool began to seep through. My clammy hands gripped the phone tighter. It was just what I needed! Though, how long would those bags last me before I had this call again? Every fucking day felt like this. Didn’t matter if I had bags or not, I would wake up feeling like shit every moment I allowed myself to do this. But what was the alternative? There was no way I was getting clean. I had been dirty for years and the horror stories about what sickness does to people trying to detox were not something I planned to endure. It could literally kill me. My only other option was to take the easy way out. The easy way… No more sickness. No more heroin. No more track marks showing the world I had an uncontrollable problem. I wouldn’t disappoint my family anymore. The choice was easy.

“Well, Tal?”

“I’ll call you back.” I hung up the phone and let go. This is what I’d been reduced to. I’ve stolen before, sure, but armed home invasion? I would never forgive myself, but what other choice did I have? I shivered and continued to wail. I looked up to the ceiling, pleading to God to guide me to the right path. Find some way to save my poor soul from this repetitive hell. This could not be my fate.

“Talis?” My mother called from the top of the stairs. “Is everything alright?” Her footsteps, almost inaudible as they patted down the stairs. The pressure I’d been carrying began to shift and lighten. The bed squeaked and her warm presence wrapped around me.

I couldn’t face her. Even in the dark I could not stir up the courage to look her in the face and tell her what was going on with me. I just cried, hoping that eventually I will have the courage to tell her, “I’m a heroin addict and I need help.”

The expression on her face was muted as I told her the truth. Nothing was there. She stared through me, and my tears flowed.

She raised from the bed and slowly left for upstairs, where the light broke through. I was left sitting in my dark chamber, hoping she would come back to save me from myself.