Sugar Mountain High X

When Pedro refused to let me have more crystal, I hatched a plan: I would visit his mother. She was the source, after all. I did not tell Pedro, of course. All I wanted to do was increase my supply.

I arranged to go when Pedro was busy. His family lived in a ramshackle timber house on a footpath well away from our part of town. As I approached, I could see smoke rising from a chimney. There did not appear to be any signs of life. Feeling a little bit like Goldilocks, I opened the door when no one answered my knock. “Hello?”, I inquired, as I went inside. Silence. The room I had entered was neat, but sparse. There were some low seats set against one wall, and a table occupied most of the rest of the space.

Holding aside the bead curtains, I went through a doorway, deeper into the dwelling. It was dark. After a few seconds, I could make out certain shapes. I was in some kind of passageway, very narrow, with two rooms leading off it. At the other end was what looked like the kitchen. I cautiously started walking down the passageway. As I passed the second room, a slight noise, almost imperceptible, made me turn. There on the bed, was a human form. I nearly jumped with fright. The figure was facing me, its eyes staring at mine!

I stood like this, not knowing what to do. Then the body on the bed began to speak. “I know you,” it said. It was a woman’s voice, Pedro’s mother. She was breathing heavily. “Ye…yes,” I stammered, “I’m Pedro’s friend.” “He not here now,” she rasped. I stood still. From the way she moved slightly on the bed, I knew she understood why I was there.

“Come here, child,” she said, getting up, and gesturing for me to lie on the bed. “Do you know what you are doing?” she asked. I nodded. She gave a snorting laugh. Or was it a cackle? Was she really a witch woman? I felt a fleeting inclination to get out of the room, and out of the house. But I let it pass: my needs were greater; I had begun to sweat and grow irritable since I had been with Pedro earlier. My fear grew when I saw her take a needle from a bag next to the bed. She drew some solution from a tube that she had vigrously shaken. “Be still,” she said. She opened my left arm, and cleaned it in the crook with a wet sponge.

She raised the needle to eye level, squinting in the shadows. Before I could protest, she plunged the needle into my vein with great accuracy. Ahhh! Immediate relief: The Rush was upon me.


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