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Unfiled December 1, 2006
New Year’s Massacre
Junkie's Journal By Vlad Impaler Browse author

The New Year is getting near and everything seems so pretty and nice, doesn't it? People here completely ignore Christmas, but there's no chance in hell they're gonna skip the New Year's Eve party. On December 31st, all of the grownups are trying as hard as possible to stay sober, all their attention on their TV sets, when they're waiting impatiently for President and Primadonna (Alla Pugacheva) to wish them "Happy New Year"... It's all pretty disgusting, but we're used to it here. Everybody's hoping for a miracle to come on New Year's Night. And sometimes miracles happen...

A couple of years back I was completely broke. I still am, but then... I was lost in the horrible, I mean REALLY horrible pain of heroin withdrawals. It was the third day that was the worst of all. It was also New Year's Eve, and there was no chance I could score. I lost all my credit in this damn city. No one would spot me anything, especially after everyone heard about how I'd ripped off this one harmless gay dude named Victor.

But that's not the point here. The point is it was fucking New Year's Eve and I was dying. Literally. I was choking on my own puke, which was all over my clothes and my mattress. Rumors about me stabbing this pusher/fag with a sharpened screwdriver had spread like a highly-communicable disease.

Two days earlier, when the withdrawals were still nearly-manageable, I had my last conversation with my ex-girlfriend, Ksyu, who shared her apartment with a pair of a small time dealers whom I was in debt to. I owed money to everyone I knew. The fucking cramps were unbearable... "We reached the point of stability in Russia"... "It was a really difficult year for all us..." Sick. "As President I'd like to wish all of the Russian citizens..." Death. "Let's raise our glasses..." Puke. Shit. Death. Mom. Dad. Then I lost consciousness for some time, thank God...

I opened my eyes and instant fire pierced my eyeballs. I gotta do something, I thought. The idea of throwing myself on the metro rails was getting more and more appealing. I was really desperate. So much that I dialed my ex-girlfriend Ksu one more time. She was my last hope. We had some beautiful times together. All I got was her damn answering machine...

I realized it was past midnight because I heard the fireworks tearing the winter sky into shreds. "Please, God don't let me go insane!" I thought for the thousandth time. I had never felt so desperately lost and hopeless. I mean I sure as hell deserved every bit of this suffering for my stupid behavior, but at the same time I was praying for a miracle. Then a couple of hours into the New Year I made up my mind. I had to act.

I picked up a thin and sharp kitchen knife and scrutinized it for a moment. The blade was thin and pretty sharp as well. I had stop this pain by any possible means.

Suddenly the phone rang. I picked up the telephone, looking at the blade in my hand, feeling dizzy and weak. Even the cold plastic of the receiver made me shiver. It was Ksyu calling me back.

"Hey. Leave me alone, will you?" her voice was hoarse.

I could bet my sorry ass she was high on IT. Exactly what I needed.

I clenched my teeth. "Happy New Year, baby," I croaked, trying hard not to puke, knowing it was my last chance to get the cure. I didn't want to let her go, even though it hurt just to keep talking. "Look, Ksyu, honey, I've got a friend of mine here and she's got money," I said. I used all my strength to make my voice sound as casual as I could. "We're going to a big party and we thought of getting some stuff for tonight. I called you so many times today 'cos I wanted invite you to join me..."

I was completely full of shit. But I had to make her to come to me with the gear, no matter what it took. Otherwise I was sure I'd die by the next morning. I pimped her hard. Finally I cracked her.

"Ok. I'll take a taxi to your place," she said and hung up.

Great. She's coming over. Now I had to come up with a way of getting ahold of her smack before she figured out I wasn't going to pay her. I knew it would be tricky. Usually dealers carry the gear in their mouths wrapped in a little baggie, and just swallow the stuff if stopped by the cops. Or a mugger (like myself).

I knew she'd be angy when she found out the truth -- that I have no money, and I was just using her to score some smack. I thought, "I could threaten her with a knife, but if she swallows the shit I'm fucked."

I touched the blade with my finger. If she swallowed it, I thought, I'd have to cut through her throat before it dropped down into her stomach. I'd have to be quick. But then I realized, even if I cut through her throat and didn't find the baggie, I could just cut open her belly and look around for the smack. I had to prepare for this possibility. So I collected all the plastic bags that were in the apartment and placed them on the floor, preparing for the worst case scenario. I didn't want to make too much of a mess if I had to do that.

I think I passed out again for some time 'cos the sound of the doorbell came as a shock. My knees were shaking. I picked up the knife from the floor and went to meet her at the door...

She walked in. I carefully locked the door behind her and put the key to the door in my pants' pocket.

"Damn, you look like zombie, rabbit!" she greeted me playfully.

"Did you bring IT?" I asked feeling the cold blade, which I'd hidden inside the of my Adidas jacket which I'd wrapped around it before opening the front door.

"Sure. But show me the money first," Ksyu said.

That's when I took the knife out, praying only for her not to swallow the stuff. Her eyes popped out when I pressed the blade against her throat. And then she started screaming...But she coughed it out.

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

Her body was hot and covered with a thin layer of sweat on her flat stomach. Later, as we were laying on my mattress naked. I was blankly staring at the ceiling, saying nothing. My body and my brain were being caressed by the soft, warm waves of the opiate euphoria.

"You're fucked up," she sad. "I heard about you stabbing that guy Victor. I also heard that his mother called the cops. I knew you're a fucking psycho but I'd never imagine you'd want to do any harm to ME! Damn! And your dead eyes... That's just fucked up! You gotta sort yourself out..."

She kept talking and talking but I wasn't listening. Slowly I was sliding into sweet unconsciousness. Then I heard my own voice saying something about miracles and Happy New Year to everyone...

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