She was wearing one of my old flannel shirts and some jeans that looked about 12 sizes too big, but it was enough. I was going to take her out shopping anyway, to get her mind off of withdrawals. She had been mumbling to herself all night, but at least she wasnt throwing up and crying yet. But it would happen.
We went to the mall where numerous shady individuals offered her anything from dope to "services." I made sure that they did not talk to her again. She went to one of those terrible clothing stores for teenagers, that played loud music and smelled like class A douchebag. I stood outside and smoked. It was places like this that made me even more insecure, made these kids fell like a part of something when really they were just brainwashing the poor bastards into buying more and more of their marketing. Making kids into billboards was not my idealogy. But enough philosophy..
She came out with more clothes than money could count. I had handed her a hundred and she came back with more useless crap than a tv salesman. We drove home in silence, her only thanking me for the clothes. I shrugged.
You see I hadnt been around a female in about 20 something years, since high school at least. I already told you I'm secluded but not talking to anyone except business associates is more than introverted. It felt good to have someone else around, no matter how awkward it seemed.
She got dressed and decided to cook. I had to go back to her house to do some real work, so I left her a cell number for when she got the shakes and left. I hated seeing withdrawal. Both my parents had died that way. I was done with drugs.
I arrived around noon, and the clouds were hanging over like a bad dream. The grey skies were melancholy and made me want to hide behind curtains, like a child. The house was a mere pile of rubble. She had asked me to find anything that wasnt burned, and my job was already over. There was nothing left. Bricks and ash lay where a life of mistrust and bad deeds had gone on for so long. It was altogether fitting that it ended that way. It was probably for the best, for her and whatever hell had happened there.
It had seemed like some usual case of an oven left on, or her trying to cook some dope and passing out, leaving a lighter or something stupid on. But it didnt seem that way. There was an obvious fast spark on the north side of the house, and I took a swab and sent it for the CSI's to test at the lab. I looked around more.
By three the rain started, and it was time to leave. My head was abuzz with ideas, for myself and for the girl. She knew something and I had to get it out of her.
I walked in to a puddle of vomit and other excretions. She had started and not called me. It pissed me off but, she probably couldnt get to the phone anyway. I got all of my towels and mopped it up, looking at myself in the puddle I couldnt help but laugh. What was I doing? How had I lasted this long? Why hadn't she cooked anything yet?
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