'Cause now again I've found myself
So far down, away from the sun
That shines into the darkest place
I'm so far down, away from the sun again
Away from the sun again
Away From the Sun - Three Doors Down
He
took the spoon away from the flame of the jasmine-scented pillar candle then
stuck the end of the needle into the liquid, drawing it, like mellifluous life,
into the syringe. He took a deep breath in. There was something about the scent
of jasmine that comforted him, made him feel at ease. He pulled the tourniquet
tighter over his arm, the leather strap biting into the pattern of Celtic knotwork
that encircled his slender biceps, the tattoo a relic of another, happier life.
He tapped the hollow of his elbow, feeling the bulge of a vein. It was the
only clean spot on his body, washed with a bit of alcohol-soaked cotton. With
well-practiced ease, he slid the needle under his pale flesh, pocked with reddish
track marks. The tip of his tongue curled over his upper lip, tasting his own
salt, the familiar burning sensation filling his arm as he pumped the heroin
in. He set the syringe aside and wiped his arm with alcohol then released the
tourniquet. Once, he had gotten an infection in his arm from shooting up and
ever since took as much care as he could; cotton, alcohol, neosporin all stolen
from a pharmacy and a fresh needle every time thanks to Sister Marion and her
anti-AIDS-Hep C campaign.
He
let his head fall back against the moldy stuffing of the battered chair as the
warm rush flooded him, sweet and pleasurable as an orgasm. Better even. Heroin
quieted the murmurs inside his brain, banished the terrible monsters he saw
in his mind's eye. Sweet Dreams was like being wrapped in a warm security blanket
where vampires and demons couldn't get him any more. He knew they weren't real
but on his own, without the bright sunlight of the opiod running through his
veins, their apparent realness overwhelmed him. He looked out the dirty bay
window into the street. Sunlight shimmered on the tarmac, waves of heat rising
up. This was the part of L.A. those in Beverly Hills liked to pretend didn't
exist. Houses like his had been left to rot and he and his crew had moved in
like rats. He didn't know how many runaways there were in his little patch of
the world. His own home uhttp://awards.shadesofgrey.us/sogahome.htmsually had
six or seven kids sheltering within.
He
shifted so he could breathe in the delicate perfume of the candle more easily.
He thought again of sunlight, his saving grace. Sunny, he remembered that name
from somewhere. She was his angel, telling him about the medicine that could
make everything better. She'd been right about Sweet Dreams. He couldn't find
Sunny any more, if she ever existed, but he knew he owed her something.
Hearing footsteps racing into his room, he sat up, twisting sharply. No one
just entered his room without permission. He was responsible for this house.
He protected the street kids who lived with him and that was one of the rules;
you knocked before entering. His room was the biggest and the best. He owned
the most stuff, which didn't mean much. Ratter, a fat tortoise shell cat, kept
his home fairly clean of vermin. Ratter meowed at the intruders and hurried
through a hole in the wall.
He looked at the dirty faces of two of his favorite girls, Misty and Darts.
Misty was the oldest at seventeen, her brown hair pulled into a wild spray of
little tails making her head look like a star gum shell. Darts was a year younger
and had grown up in her daddy's bar hustling at the game she was named for.
They contrasted beautifully; Misty the color of dark chocolate and Darts like
a freshwater pearl in sunlight. The third girl of their little group was oddly
not with them, delicate little Lian, pretty as a china doll. She was his special
charge, barely thirteen. He took it on himself to protect her from the predators
of the night.
"Angelboy,
you have to come quick!"Darts said, grabbing his arm.
"What's wrong?"He didn't want to get up. His high was just starting,
his stomach twisting and churning a bit as was usual, and all he wanted to do
was sit back and ride the sunshine.
"Lian's dead,"Misty replied.
The sunshine faded to dark.
Angelboy
followed Misty and Darts several blocks away to another section of abandoned
buildings. He knew at least one of them was a squat but the girls didn't go
there. They went into a deserted church, the tiny heart of a community long
gone. Inside, he smelled the residuals of marijuana and meth but they were nearly
overwhelmed by the reek of blood, and something foul like an overflowing septic
tank. The buzz of flies echoed in the old church.
"How did you find her?"he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his companions.
"Two Two said he saw Lian here last night with Night Rain. They were here
for a rave,"Darts said, her chewed bottom lip disappearing between her teeth
for another gnawing.
"If we knew, we would have stopped her,"Misty said, disgust leaking into
her voice.
Angelboy's
lip curled. He didn't tell the kids in his house how to live outside his walls.
Inside, he was the acknowledged house Nazi and what he said went but in the
real world they were free. That was the way of the streets. They had had more
than enough interference in the homes they had run away or been thrown out of
but when they were as young as Lian, he took an interest in their lives. Lian
had no business at a rave. Worse, Night Rain had brought her. Night Rain had
no right to do that.
He crept forward, following the smell of blood. "Did Two Two tell you
Lian was dead?
"No,
just that she was here,"Darts said, stopping under a panel of broken stained
glass. "We came looking for her when she didn't show."
Angelboy looked back at her, his pupils mere pinpoints in his blue eyes. Reddish
light, sweet sunshine through ruby glass, played over Dart's pale face. He nodded
sharply at her for her to take the lead but she didn't move. He shrugged. He
could probably follow his nose to where Lian was. He walked up to where the
altar had been. Part of the flooring was retracted with steps leading down into
a cement hollow. Inside, a spigot had bled rust down the wall leading to where
Lian lay in the forgotten baptismal.
The
smells of ruptured bowels and emptied bladder joined the stench of blood; that
was the septic smell he had detected. Through the seething mass of flies he
saw her throat had been torn open and her abdomen clawed apart; entrails looping
over the shallow overhang of her hips like tinsel on a tree. One of her hands
had been gnawed off. To her left, Night Rain rested in a concealing puddle of
blood. She had been mauled in a similar manner, her face barely recognizable.
Part of her raven hair was flipped to one side, the reddish underside of scalp
making it look like a bad wig.
Angelboy turned, feeling his stomach churn and it wasn't from heroin this
time. His buzz had long since been killed. Swallowing hard, he stared up at
his companions, accusation in his eyes. "You didn't say Night Rain was
dead, too."
Misty
shrugged. "She's not one of us, not our concern."
Angelboy shot her an irritated look. He knew neither Misty nor Darts liked
Night Rain and they were right; she wasn't one of them. She came from a wealthy
family and went to a special all-girls school. Somehow, she developed a taste
for sneaking out and slumming it. It was common enough. Hanging with runaways
was a dangerous thrill for bored rich kids.
Angelboy didn't understand it. A good family was everything. Most of the runaways
never had that but most of the slummers did. They didn't have reason to put
themselves in danger but Night Rain had been different. There had been a darkness
in her, a hint that she believed the bad stuff he saw in his mind's eye. She
was a little like him. He had a good family until his hallucinations worsened
and he turned to drugs for relief.
He
hadn't been above using her. Night Rain was his bang, another reason for Misty
to be jealous. Darts didn't like boys to touch her so she didn't care as much.
Either way, they were too young for him even if Misty didn't see it that way.
Neither understood why he kept Night Rain around. Truthfully, he hadn't ever
really liked Night Rain but she had money. She'd get him real food, sometimes
enough to share with his kids, and gave him money so he could score without
resorting to stealing or selling himself. All right, he mentally amended, he
sold himself to her because she wouldn't give him cash unless he'd let her spend
most of the night with him and do to him whatever her dark fantasies dreamed
up. Better yet, she liked to thumb her nose at her parents by taking him home
when they were gone. He could get a real shower there. It helped with the itchiness
of his filthy, flea-bitten, lice-beset body. He didn't particularly like Night
Rain but he'd miss her.
He saw something odd on the far side of the baptismal. It looked like large,
bloody paw prints. A bit further away was a print that looked like a human foot.
The first thought in his mind was werewolf but he knew that was just the junk
in his head. They weren't real. He'd need to put more of The Witch in his veins
to chase the monsters away.
"What
do we do, Angelboy?" Darts asked.
He spun on heel and left the church. They followed him. He had to walk a few
blocks to find a pay phone. They had become rarer now that most people had cellulars.
He placed a quick call to 911 then headed back for his home.
"You called the cops,"Misty said in disbelief, her arms crossing defensively
oer her ample chest.
"Never trust them,"Darts added, tossing her long, lank blonde hair.
He faced them, his blue eyes glistening. "Lian deserves to be found.
She deserves to be put to rest,"he said sternly and they bowed their heads.
Angelboy said nothing else. He just went home and locked himself in his room.
He didn't want to shoot up again so soon, so he got his pipe and sat down to
chase the tiger. As the opiate-laden smoke burned into his lungs, Angelboy cried
silently, his pain not for sharing.
