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Needle and the Damage Done 3
"Robert! Robert wake up!"
"Jesus Christ, Robert, you fucking scared me."
My heart was pounding against my ribs. I sat up and combed my hair back with my fingers. My forehead was sweating. My eyes were tired but darted towards the clock with haste. It was five o'clock in the afternoon. I'd been sleeping since eight that morning. I looked back to Jimmy and tried to catch my breath. Yeah, I had been having nightmares, but the second Jimmy woke me up, they'd vanished completely, leaving me with a sick sense of fear in my gut.
"You scared me," he said again, looking at me with concern. He was already dressed in his white dragon outfit for tonight. I couldn't see his eyes through his aviators, and I felt disconnected as my dream haze still clung to my mind.
"Shit," I said, finally getting a hold of myself. "What happened?"
"I fell asleep after you, then I woke up to you screaming--"
"Fuck, I gotta get ready," I shot, pushing myself out of bed, trying to leave behind the sick feeling
Needle and the Damage Done 2 I had got out of bed, and after checking Jimmy's head in case he's knocked it on anything on the way down, I put a blanket over him, got dressed, and left. He looked rough, but he'd had worse. I was sure of it.
I took a little walk around outside. It was still pretty early, and when I reached the seaside, it was empty.
My nerves were hurting for a smoke. I took out a cigarette and stuck it between my lips, then took out my lighter and flicked it in the morning air a couple times. Sparks snapped at me, but there was no fuel left. I'd only bought it three days ago and it was already out.
"Fuck," I cursed, tossing it into the sand. The tide was in and it swallowed it up greedily.
I heard my name being called, and I shot around.
"Hey, Robert!" it came again. Jonesy stood at the top of the concrete stairs that led down to the sand.
"Hey," I greeted him lamely. "What's up?" I distantly wondered how he knew I was here until I r
Needle and the Damage Done 1 I'd seen it all before. The flower children with their grass. The junkies with their smack. I'd seen the dirty needles and the cut up straws. The burnt knives and spoons. It was all part of the act, and though in the beginning I would stare, now I could walk right past them lining up their powder with such practiced ease and I wouldn't even give a second glance. It wasn't hard to ignore when it was so mundane in the music scene. That's what we did. We experimented and had a fuck tonne of fun doing it, until someone would look in the mirror one day and try to convince themselves they hadn't changed. But it was bullshit, and they'd know it. I'd seen people get thinner and thinner until it seemed as if they'd break under the pressure of their own screwed up mentality. I'd seen people grow old too fast; picking at themselves until they had pulsing sores all down their arms, letting their physical state go in a way that was way beyond not caring. I'd seen some dirty, greas
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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