The concrete rough and cold on my legs as they lay on the floor. “Show our friend here about trust,” Big Fate said with a laugh.īefore I could put up my hands to defend my face, the bat made contact with my skull. He advanced toward me rapidly, brandishing a baseball bat. I turned around to see the large form approach. If you fuck with me you can trust I ain’t going to take that shit lying down… Yo! D Murder!” “Just this one last time, and I’ll give you 2,000 when I get paid. I wanted to flee, but I held out hope that if I weathered the storm I could leave heroin in hand. “1000 fucking dollars, and you fucking expected me to front you more! Are you out of your fucking mind?” “I want you to fucking say it! How much!?” Knowing there was nothing I could say to appease him. He swiped the dishes on the table in my direction and stood over me in a threatening posture. “Do I look like a charity motherfucker!” All pretense went out the window. “You give me that bag, and I’ll pay you double.” “That’s pleasure motherfucker, first we talk business.” He looked at the stress on my face and reveled in his deceit. Before I could grasp it, he quickly snatched it out of my hands. The answer to my prayers was two feet in front of my face.īig Fate picked up the bag and handed it to me. I looked at the shitty coffee table and relief momentarily found me. I had no choice but to come in, sit on the ramshackle couch in his living room, and stay put with anxiety coursing through my veins. We have much to discuss,” he said with a sly grin belying his true intent. Come in and sit down for a second motherfucker. Rumor had it that only one person ever mentioned the smell, and they were never seen again. I was convinced that he purposefully did not clean up after his animal on the off chance that someone would dare to ask about the abhorrent stench and give him a reason to seek retribution for the slight. I entered his home, and the smell hit me immediately, the pungent aroma of cat urine. As the five teardrops tattooed under his eyes indicated, he was not someone to be trifled with. He reveled in the fact that his frame belied how capably ruthless he was. He was 5’1” at best, but size isn’t everything. The thing about Big Fate that most people remarked about when meeting him was, naturally, his short stature. He opened the door with aplomb, a sinister smile on his face as he invited me in. I walked up the wooden stairs as they threatened to give way from the weight of my feet, pulled the screen door that barely remained on its hinges, and knocked on the door.
Not aware that in the game of life, they had drawn the short straw. Children played in the avenues with the blessed innocence of youth. Dilapidated duplexes and derelict apartment buildings lined the streets. It was a fucking mausoleum of the hopes and ambitions of the destitute. Calling this part of Rashosha, WI skid row was being way too generous. I pulled into Big Fate’s neighborhood barely able to hold onto the wheel with my shaking hands. The sweet release from life the drug provided brought a veritable cremation to all my cares. While my world and ambitions burned to ashes around me, there was one constant. That is when I started my interminable affair with H, the love of my life. The euphoric feeling that accompanied the drip down my throat was unparalleled. It was the night that someone laid out a line of smack that was the beginning of the end.
A line of cocaine here or there and I was still in the clear.
What started as smoking weed once or twice on a lark quickly turned into raucous parties with people with unsavory connections. However, I fell into the proverbial wrong crowd. I was a very promising scholar in high school. Of course, I wasn’t always a heroin addict. However, this being my only option to get a fix, I hopped into my shitty car and headed over doing my best not to get pulled over for speeding on the way. I had only been there once before, and I had made a deal with my soul that I would never return under any circumstances. He insisted in no uncertain terms that I come to his house. I begged and I pleaded for him to stop through, but he refused. However, my actions were no longer my own. I picked it up and dialed Big Fate as if possessed.
I went to the payphone, my only option after pawning the iPhone my parents bought me. My flesh was under duress, and I was one phone call away from the solution. My body was in revolt and demanded a call to arms. It felt like a foreign invader as its iciness insisted if I didn’t come up with a solution fast there would be hell to pay. Then, the feeling of needles grazing the flesh of my arm announced itself to my brain.
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