Chase

Chase had never experienced something like this. There was just one word for it crazy. It made him restless. It made him feel small. It made him feel powerful. Crazy.  This was the ultimate shit.  Everything appeared distorted. He could only see the small packet of white powder. Losing control. Losing the inhibitions. The heady rush. It was insane. No wonder people got addicted to it. Chase didn’t mind the addiction. All he wanted was the  high. He cared about nothing else. Why should he? Above all, who should he care about? The people who tore him down into pieces?  The people who stepped on the broken pieces damaging them permanently?  Accidentally? On purpose? He was beyond that. He no longer cared about a thing. The world was a shitty place. The snuff made it less shitty. It made him forget the red river of blood. It made him forget the crushed bones and the cracked skins. And all those hollow unfeeling eyes. The hooded man, the gun, the bullet, the  hole and all that blood. It still woke him up screaming every night.  He just wanted to erase it all. That was all he wanted. To forget it. All of it. Nothing other than drugs worked. Nothing. He’d done it all. And now he was ready to give up. There was nothing left to give up other than his spirit. His life was long gone. He was numb, unfeeling. As unfeeling as those eyes who had pulled the trigger. Hope. Faith. All were myths. In the end, all you were left with was this emptiness. Lucky were the people who could ignore. He took another sniff.  Fuck. Heaven. No actually. No drugs in heaven. Laughing maniacally he left Shelby’s place. All this time Shelby was doing drugs. Who knew? She had supposedly been the good ol’ girl next door all this while. Chase had to make up for all the lost time.
He was down the street with no lights. He could still the echoes of his maniacal laugh. Only he doubted if it was his. Because he was as quiet as a mouse and the laughter still rang in his ears. Getting stronger and stronger by the minute.  He held on to a broken a lamp post and shrieked trying to block the deranged laugh. Finally he couldn’t fight it. And he gave up yet again. He was exhausted. HE was sick. Sick of all of it. Loss. Pain. Suffering. All the bullshit. His eyes drooped down. He tried to fight. He didn’t want to pass out on the pavement. But he couldn’t. He had no fight left in him. He could feel the cool night air enter his jacket, t-shirt, jeans and finally his skin. It froze his blood. It chilled his bones. It frosted his breath. So this was how it was. The end. Finally it had come to him. He could feel it. He looked up into the stars. He could see the stars. He remembered. He had always loved the stars. All of a sudden he felt happy. He could see the stars. He smiled as his eyelids snapped shut. He could see the stars.

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