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The Tale of the Narcoalchemical Path |
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"Serra, c'mon, you're supposed to be home by now. Mum and dad'll get worried, they don't even know where you are."
"In a few minutes, Ed. Don't worry about me."
"No, not a few minutes, n-"
She'd already hung up on him, and was dancing with all her friends. It was a large party by house standards. There had to be at least a hundred people, all having fun, drinking, dancing, doing things in the bedroom they probably shouldn't be, and why should she care? It's not like it was her party, after all. She didn't care about the gatecrashers, either, she thought they just livened things up. They were usually older, too, so they always managed to bring along some kind of booze even if nobody else had managed it. All in all, it was great. She figured she had a few more hours left in her before she was ready to go home. Life is short, enjoy it while you can, right?
She was on the verge of deciding to call it a night when a guy approached her. He looked a little shady: his clothes were ragged, he was wearing a black trenchcoat, and large sunglasses. His hair didn't look like it had been washed in weeks. The constant darting of his eyes, the slight twitching of his fingers, the way he locked gazes with someone, as if to say 'I have something you want' -- it wasn't hard to figure out what he was.
"Hey there, babe. Want a shot? C'mon, first one's free and your friends have all already had one." It was such a cliche line. She was a little tipsy, though, and she figured, well, she was taking the train home anyway, what was the harm? It'd probably make the journey back a little less boring.
"Sure," she said, stepping close to him and turning her shoulder towards him. She didn't have to roll up her sleeve: she wasn't wearing much in the first place, just a black halter top and leather miniskirt.
The guy shrugged, pulled out a syringe, and jammed it into her and injected before she could blink. She winced a little as he pulled it out.
"Thanks," she said. "Seeya."
"Y'know, babe, I reckon you just might." he replied. "Name's Jim. Ask yer friend, whatsisname, Robby if you need me again."
It took a little while for the effects to kick in, while she was on the train seat, slightly sticky with cola stains. She hadn't really payed a lot of attention in drug education, but she was pretty sure this was supposed to kick in pretty fast. Curiosity turned to fear: what if it was poison, what if he'd mixed it with something weird, what if--
And then she got it. She really got it. She looked around her, and everything seemed right somehow. She could see the patterns, see the colours, the hidden things behind reality. She couldn't quite see the sense in it, not yet, but she felt better than she had in years. She felt very warm, and safe, and the colours were so pretty she just wanted to reach out and touch them, and...
then she passed out.
"Serra, I keep telling you this would happen." Ed said, looking a little bit grim. Her parents had dropped into the ward earlier, and their faces were a mixture of disappoint and worry. She'd pretended to be asleep, just so she wouldn't have to deal with them, but there was no fooling her older brother.
"Mm, Ed..." she said, yawning. "It's OK. I just had a little too much to drink."
"No," said Ed, "you took something you shouldn't have. Doctors say they're not sure what it was, seemed like a mix of a couple of things. What the hell were you thinking, especially when you've been drinking? You could have died, Serra, and I... I don't want that. Nobody wants that."
"Hey, at least I have some fun in my life once in a while, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes. ******** you, that helped me."
"Helped you? You are in a hospital! You passed out in the middle of a train at 1AM! You could have been murdered, or worse!" Or worse. Ed seemed to have an odd hierarchy of how bad something was.
"Shut up. Get the hell out of here."
Ed just stared at her for a moment, then sighed. As he walked out, she thought she could hear him sobbing.
A month later, she just couldn't concentrate. Exams were coming up, and her grades hadn't been too hot lately. If it kept going like this, she might even have to repeat a grade. Social suicide. She'd never seen herself as a delinquent, and she didn't want to start creating that image now.
"Robby," she said, after school, "you've gotta help me get in touch with Jim, that drug guy."
"What's in it for me, Sers?" he asked, an eyebrow raise. "And I'm not accepting favours, I saw what you did to Leo. That is a road I am not taking."
"Oh, come on, my parents are rich as all hell. 20 bucks, I'll give ya."
"Thirty."
"Tw-" she interrupted herself. She wanted to see Jim so badly, it couldn't wait. "Fine, thirty. Here. So where can I find him."
"He lives in a boathouse, at on the docklands. Dock 25, look for the thing that's half all shiny and blue and half rusted."
Jim was pleased to see her, but she had no time for any chitchat. "I want it," she said. "Whatever you gave me last time, I want as much as you got. How much is it?"
Jim grinned. "For you, babe, all I ask is that you don't say anything about this to anybody. Got kind of a bet goin', y'see, and if I win--"
"I don't give a ********, just give me the drugs. Whaddaya call it, anyway?"
"Unseen. 'cause nobody knows about it, not even the cops."
The morning before her first exam, Serra pulled two syringes out of her bag. Her arm trembled, looking at the sharp tips. This was her last chance to back away, to just leave it alone, to continue life like she had.
Of course she took the Unseen. One syringe straight after the other, right into her veins.
Immediately this time, she got the feeling of getting it all, of everything being right, of everything being some kind of pattern. The colours were around her, and she felt warm and woozy, but this time, she was determined to stay awake. To make sure she'd reap the benefits.
The next thing she knew, it was a week later, and she had her report card in hand. An A grade, all the way down the list. Ed was in her room.
"Mum and dad are proud, but you've been really off for the past couple of days, Serra. What's going on? You barely spoke to us."
"You wouldn't understand." she said, standing up to push Ed out of her room. "You don't get to see the Unseen."
"What kind of bullshit is that? Serra, I swear, if you're taking drugs again-"
"Shut up!" she shouted, louder than she'd meant to. How dare he criticise her? This was her life, and if she chose to enhance it in less than legal ways, who was he to stop her. "Get the ******** out of my room! You don't understand, and you'll never understand! Jim understands and he, he, he'll make it all better!" she shoved him out of the doorway and slammed it in front of his nose.
Once her tears had dried, she knew what she had to do. She needed to go back to that warm, happy place where everything made sense. Not this awful, cramped world of chaos. She needed Jim, more badly than ever before.
One month later. She was conscious again. The normal Serra. The one she hated. She remembered it being so nice, and so perfect, and now she was all alone again in her room.
"How could you do that to our parents?" Ed was saying, looking distraught, his voice catching. "They try to reach out to you and you insult them? You call them child abusers? Christ, Serra, what did they ever to do you? They're more lenient than I would be if I was your dad."
"And you're not my dad, dipshit. You're my idiot brother who thinks he knows what's best for me. Get out of here." She reached into her pocket, pulling out her last syringe. One it, and then she'd go over to Jim's boat and get some more.
"What the hell is that? Serra, don't!" Ed lunged at her arm, grabbing it and bashing it against the bedhead. The syringe fell out of her hand, and shattered on the floor.
"You... you b*****d!" she screamed, shoving him onto the floor, beating him with a strength she didn't know she had. "That's everything to me! That's my life you just broke!"
Ed wasn't moving. His head was bleeding, but he was still breathing. making sure he was still alive, Serra jumped out of her bedroom window. She needed to lay low for a few hours.
It was midnight. She was almost at Jim's boat, and then she could finally get what she wanted.
"No." he said. Ed. How the hell did he get here? Clearly she hadn't beaten him up as much as she thought. "No more, Serra. You're tearing us apart."
"I need that drug, Ed. You don't understand. It's perfection. It's too good for you. It lets me be the best that I can be."
"Serra," he said softly, "I love you. I don't want to hurt you. Come on. Let's go home, and apologise. To each other, and our parents."
"No," Serra said, "let's send you home in a body bag."
And then she stabbed him in the heart. "Why?" he gasped. His last words.
"You're nothing to me. The Unseen is all that matters now."
She was crying, though, as she talked to Jim, and he agreed to clear away the body. She was crying, as she unscrewed the caps of the box of syringes. She was still crying when she injected all of them, not stopping until the box was empty, into her.
And then there were colours, and she was warm, and things were right. But there was something beyond the colours, something like a void, and she knew if she let herself go, and held onto only her purpose, she would reach it, and she would understand.
 Nocturnal Emissions · Sun Apr 13, 2008 @ 12:14pm · 1 Comments |
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