Hotel nights.




I'm in the hotel room waiting . Its gloomy and dank smelling. Stale air fills my nostrils and I get butterflies. I know what I'm about to do and know its wrong. Ive done it dozens of times before though. I was ready, pacing back and forth.

The hotel had a single, queen sized worn bed with a dark navy blanket on top. A side table and an old green lamp was in the corner. It was the only source of light. Because it was in the corner, my movements cast shadows on the walls as I paced back and forth. 1:45 flashed on the 1980's desk clock.

It always came down to this. Me not being able to stand my "normal" life. My regular 9-5, Monday through Friday, shitty desk job. Life was a joke. Fucking pointless. Here I was, 35 years old and clinically depressed. My wife left me 4 years ago because she found someone else. Someone else to give her what she wanted. She took the kids also. I kept the house and our joke of a car sedan. The house was almost entirely empty now and I couldn't stomach being there for long periods of time. The emptiness consumed me and it would choke the hell outta me.  I would go to work, go to the bar, then finally come home and pass out, shower in the morning, and go back to work. Repeat. My life was on a loop of repeat and I couldn't  snap out of it. 

About a year ago, my ex gained sole custody of the kids. Obviously that didn't stop her taking all my money, monthly.  They say its for the kids. Yeah, right.

That's when I guessed I lost it.  I had been trying to cope with my stress and overwhelming amount of pain in all the typical ways. Booze and women seemed to soften the pain, but never took all the anxiety away.  So that's when I met up with Dave .  Dave was single handedly the most sketchy mother fucker I knew. He was a friend of a friend I suppose. Long black hair would be slicked back and the pedo-looking beard was always  scruffy on his tattered face. He would always wear an over-sized, tan jacket that needed to be thrown away tten years ago. This guy was always jittery and the way he moved always seemed so unnatural. His thin frame meandered his way through life almost cat like, definitely not human.  The fucker smelled of tobacco, armpit sweat and mints. He was always chewing on mints. Most likely to cover up the smell of whatever the hell he had been up to. Maybe he had a nervous habit of going through two tin cans of mints a night. He was a wild one and I always had my guard up around him.

He was supposed to meet me and hour ago at this run down room. We had been meeting here the last two times and I knew we would change the meeting place next time. We always covered our tracks the best we could.

Sweat was slowly  dripping down my face and I slowly peered out the window into the southern Georgia parking lot. Just then, I saw Dave's Toyota slowly pulling up in front of the room. I let the window curtain go and walked over to the bed to wait for the knock.

" Tap, Tap, Tap."

The door barely made a noise and I wondered why he tapped so soft.

I opened the door and let my guest in. It was the usual. We didn't even say anything, just met each others eyes and I let the man go to work. He pulled up a chair to the tiny wooden table and began the ritual. He took out a small rectangle, wooden box and placed it in front of him. I walked over the bed and and sat down. Dave unzipped his jacket and opened the box. I didn't look over there but could hear him arranging the contents of the box.

My mind raced and I thought of Shelly. She really would be so disapointed. All I was now was a god damn failure. And what would my girls think? Their asshole father who lost it at 35.  I pushed the thoughts out of my head and knew I could relax soon. Everything would be alright in just a moment.

" Fuck 'em" I whispered out loud.

"Alright man, You ready?" Asked the voice at the table.

I immediately stood up and walked over. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I looked down at the table to see my fate. I looked back at my dealer and thought,  Shit , those are huge. He just had a stupid look on his face like he was mentally preparing himself as well.

You can never predict what will happen when you snort heroin. Mostly because I never know what Dave cuts it with or what some other bastard mixed into it. I really didn't care though. It was there and so was I and it was time to feel alive.

I leaned over the white, thick parallel lines, and took a deep breath of air.

"Yeah fuck 'em."

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