BONUS CONTENT: You Were Supposed to be Normal

PATREON NO LONGER HAS US UPLOAD WORD DOCS. YOU CAN READ THE STORY RIGHT HERE.

"And I know I'm not responsible but I'm still guilty inside

'Cause I know if you never met me, Bruce, you'd still be alive..."

Roger kept his eyes low as he took his hood off and stepped up into the dope spot. A new guy was working the door that night. A very large black man. Fat, but likely was an athlete in high school. Either way, Roger wanted no smoke with his skeletal frame. He walked by the doorman, who yoked him up immediately.

“Woah, woah, woah, there white boy. I’mma needa see some tracks if we finna serve your ass…”

“I’m here all the time.” Roger replied, his tone one of bland surrender.

“I don’t give a fuck, man, show me them track marks… Y’all be suckin’ dick for this shit but you can’t show me your arms? C’mon bro…”

Roger rolled up his sleeves to reveal brown bruises and little puncture marks lining his arms. The doorman nodded and let him in. You never knew what you were gonna walk into when copping in a trap house. Roger got in line and scanned the room. There was a beat to shit couch where a couple were nodding into one another. Everyone who hadn’t copped yet seemed embarrassed to be there. Paranoid, their eyes bounced around the room, hands in their pockets while two guys at a table served dope, coke, and crack. Roger bought his measly two grams of dope and walked outside, lighting a cigarette he’d clipped off earlier in the day.

A skinny young lady in a hoodie and jeans stormed by him as she left. They made direct eye contact as she spun around to cuss him out for bumping into him. Something clicked. He knew her…

“Kayleigh!??!” He shouted.

She kept walking.

“Kayleigh Miller?!?”

She turned around, teeth bared. “YOU CAN TELL TONY TO GO FUCK HIMSELF. HE AIN’T GETTIN’ SHIT FROM ME. MONEY, HEAD, NOTHIN’…”

“Woah, woah, woah, Kayleigh, it’s me! Roger! You… Lost weight…”

“I don’t know no Roger, bro…”

“When you were in school? We used to hang out…”

Roger tried to smile at the emaciated remains of the woman in front of him. But images of her from years back brought tears to his eyes. He got very emotional when withdrawing.

The woman’s jaw dropped. “Roger… Fancy meeting you here…”

A once pristine smile had yellowed and dried. In the back he could see one missing. Kayleigh Miller. Why? Why the fuck was she at the trap?

“Never mind that. What’re you doing here?!”

Kayleigh had once been a 350-pound junior at Harvard that Roger had chatted up at a bar one night. She was among Roger’s proudest fucks. She was one of those women just built to be fat, the extra flesh going to her ass, hips, thighs, tits, and belly in gloriously even distribution. Good genetics.

They’d hooked up many times. Partied a bit. Then a lot. Then she started dropping weight. Got distracted. Broke it off with him. Which he understood.

“Alright…. See ya…”

She put her hands in her hoodie pocket as she approached him. His eyes were glued there. Who knew what she’d been up to? Who she was with? She sensed his apprehension and took them out of her pocket.

“You look like you been up for a while…” She said.

“Seems neither of us get much sleep these days, huh?”

She shook her head and started to sniffle. In opiate withdrawal, any and all emotionally triggering statements or visuals can have you crying like a baby.

“Guess I really fucked up, huh?” She said, shrugging.

Roger wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “What, uh… What happened…”

She shrugged, the boniness of her shoulders making him nauseous.

“I kept doing blow. Then it was OCs to come down. Then… Grades started slipping. Parents cut me off… Tale as old as time…”

“Who you livin’ with now?”

“Roger…”

“Answer me… Please…”

“A guy…”

Roger gestured for her to elaborate. She put her hands where her hips should’ve been and her exhausted eyes squinted at him.

“We fucked for a while, Roger. And you aren’t looking too hot yourself. Nice to see ya and everything, but you have eyes. I’m fucked up. I’ve been this way for a while. It’s embarrassing enough when people who knew you when you were OK see you like this…”

“I’ve never been OK…”

She laughed. “Still Mr. Dramatic I see?”

“You stopped seeing me because you wanted to turn…”

“Oh, please, Roger! Shut the fuck up! You think you’re the only guy in the world with drugs?!?”

Roger sniffled, hanging his head. “I’m sorry…”

She shamelessly pulled a sniped cigarette from her park, narrowing her eyes as she took a drag. She was so thin…

Roger’s eyes went narrow only to bounce right back to wide as the blackout out cars whipped down the street.

“SWALLOW THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!” Roger barked.

They managed to dry-swallow their heroin just as eight cops, badges on chains, vests, but otherwise plain clothes swarmed them.

“OPEN YOUR FUCKIN’ MOUTH, SHITHEAD!!!”

Roger did so defiantly, his white tongue and decaying teeth almost mocking the cop.

“You too, sweetheart…”

Kayleigh rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but there was nothing to be found.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck you two lily white suburban motherfuckers are doing out here on Dudley Street?”

“I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say and do can be used against me…” Roger began.

BOOM!

Narcotics cops seldom had regard for the law. A beefy middle-aged white man, Officer Timmons, socked him in the gut and sent him to the ground, pulling him up by his greasy hair.

“What’re you, a fuckin’ lawyer!?!!? We seen you comin’ out that house. That’s a dope spot…”

“So… COUGH… Why you botherin’ us?!!”

“Well, I know you’re not here for the jerk chicken. Strip search these two. Right here.”

Kayleigh, hands against the wall, gasped. “What?!?”

“You wanna make an ass outta me, honey, this is what happens.”

“I want your fucking badge number…”

“And I wanna fuck Emily Blunt. But life ain’t fair, is it? Most of us are able to accept that without shooting fuckin’ poison into their arms.”

“You got anything that’ll stick me, shithead?!” The cop searching Roger screamed.

“I mean I got a big dick but it’s pretty soft right now…” Roger, looking at Kayleigh and winking.

“Oh, fuck! Roger Keef! My, my, my… How the mighty have fallen. I remember chasing your teenage ass all over the city years back. Then, this shithead gets a book deal, and he fucks it up because he can’t stop sniffing coke. Good news, though! He doesn’t do blow anymore. I believe now it’s just heroin, isn’t it?” Officer Timmons said, looking around at his other officers to ensure they laughed.

As the officer reached into one of Roger’s jeans pockets, Roger wriggled his body.

“WAIT! WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! WHAT IF I TELL YOU WHAT I WAS DOING AT THAT HOUSE?”

“You’d be a rat faggot junky piece of shit. But I could help you out.” Timmons sneered.

“Oh, thank God… Alright. Well… I was there to fuck your mother. She said her shithead son’s piss poor police checks can’t keep her in a nice neighborhood, so she has to live here with the blacks, who also fuck her for money, I hear. She knows you never served in the military despite being of age on 9/11 and how that makes you feel like a fuckin’ faggot when the real cops are around. The ones that really saw combat and put their lives on the line instead of beating on 90 pound junkies… The ones that go after real criminals. She knows you’re dirty, too, but who doesn’t? Terrible fuck, but I felt so bad she kept going on about her dope of a son. I’m no saint myself but at least I had it once… Oh! By the way, guys, Officer Timmons beat the living dog shit out of his ex-wife and it got suppressed by the media even though 40% of you beat your women anyway… No probation, no ‘I Hit Girls Anonymous,’ I believe he’s even been promoted since then. Word on the street is he bullied her to not show up to trial…”

Roger was shocked they’d let him go on for that long. Timmons cracked the back of his head with a nightstick and the rest of the officers began to pummel him. Timmons turned toward Kayleigh.

“Get the fuck outta here, you junky whore. We’ll meet again soon enough.”

Roger just laid there, growling through the pain as boot after boot slammed into his body. Batons. He kept his face covered as he felt himself turn black and blue instantly.

“I’m calling 911!” Kayleigh said suddenly, withdrawing the Nextel from her pocket.

Timmons immediately pounced on her. “You wanna lose all your smack dealer numbers!? Or I could just break it…”

“HE’S HAD ENOUGH!!!”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?! A thousand beatings isn’t enough for this shithead… Now get the fuck outta here…”

They left Roger a crumpled, bloody, fetus on the street. As they sped off, Kayleigh snuck out from her hiding spot and rushed to his aid.

“Roger?! Roger?!!?!”

**

Several Years Earlier…

“Dude, I heard this was the bar they shot Good Will Hunting at…” Liam said as he and Roger approached the door.

The bouncer was already cynical, less of Liam, though perhaps more. The nerdy academic looking kid bringing in street trash meant the street trash was there to sell drugs to the school kids.

Roger flicked his cigarette and obnoxiously snorted as he eyed up the bouncer. He held up two $20 bills.

“This oughta do it, right? I don’t need change.” Roger said as yayo dripped down his throat.

The bouncer glumly pocketed the money and they entered the college bar. It’d initially been for a goof. Liam went to Wentworth and Roger had a GED. Recently not being poor anymore, Roger was forced to compensate around the upper-class clientele, mostly by being ignorant and shoulder checking frat boys without a word.

Liam followed him awkwardly, a bit in awe of his best friend’s arrogance and how no one called him on it. Then again, they were easy targets. Roger pushed his way to the bar and held up a $100 bill, whistling with his fingers.

The bartender tripped over himself rushing over. Roger felt something delightfully warm and soft against him. He turned…

She was a real big girl. And she’d been standing for longer than she would’ve liked to be. Her face was framed by vibrant red hair as she snapped a piece of Big Red between her chubby cheeks.

“JACK AND COKE! AND… A BUD LIGHT…. AND WHATEVER THE LADY HERE’S HAVING…”

The bartender rushed to fulfill the order as the young redhead let her breasts sag out onto the bar. She took up space and did not care. An immediate hard-on for Roger. He flashed her a Cocaine smile.

“I’m Roger…”

“Kayleigh… You’re Harvard, huh? Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before…”

“Uhhhhh, I’m a transfer student. They’re still working on getting everything pushed through, y’know?”

Kayleigh laughed. “What do you do for work? Most college kids are paying in change…”

“I’m, uh… I’m an urban pharmacist…”

Roger sniffed hard and swallowed to see her reaction. She smiled as she put her eyes in her drink.

“Aye, you smoke?”

“If you’ve got cigarettes…”

“I got more than cigarettes… Just an FYI.”

“I’m OK with a cigarette.”

They plowed their way outside and he lit her up. She leaned against the wall, jolly and cheerful, carrying herself as if this is who I am, love me or don’t. With the slicked back hair and beater and leather jacket and ripped jeans Roger looked like only one thing: a drug dealer.

Kayleigh put her hand on his chest. “So… Do you really go to Harvard?”

“Nah… School of hard knocks…”

She cocked her head to the side. “Hm?”

“It’s just a thing poor people say when they feel insecure around people more successful than them….”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I just landed a book deal with ScumFuck publishing. I’m a writer…”  

She got up in his face so close his eyes were burned from the smoke. “Well, Roger… Do you like fat girls? Or are you just looking for an easy lay?”

“I live and breathe fat women. And tar. And nicotine…”

“Hehehehehe… It’s not often I find men who appreciate a…”

Liam came out of the bar. Saw what was going on. Roger gave him “the look.”

“Kayleigh? Liam. Liam? Kayleigh.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise!”

“I think Kayleigh and I were about to head back to my place…”

“Oh, were we, now?”

“That’s what you said, you don’t remember?”

Kayleigh laughed and took another drag. “Y’know what? Fuck it. I don’t care… You seem like an incredibly dangerous man and there aren’t any of those around here… May as well take advantage of the opportunity.”

She wrapped her arms around him and started to kiss him, smothering him against the wall as she slid her tongue in and out of his mouth. When they finally separated, they got into his car and drove to Roger’s one bedroom apartment. Got on the elevator. Went to his spot. Immediately he broke out the whiskey for himself. She had Tequila, though he had no limes.

Roger casually dumped his coke bullet out in front of her and started chopping up lines, inhaling a very lengthy one in a single, sustained, toot. He cocked his head back and squeezed his eyes shut as confidence, power, and dopamine flooded his brain. He casually nodded toward Kayleigh with a rolled up $100.

The apartment was great by early 20’s standards, however it still bore all the symptoms of a single young man living there. Pizza boxes. Beer bottles. A full sink. She noted he probably really was single, not a closet case.

She looked pensive. Scared, even.

“If you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna… It’s fine…”

He sniffed and snorted and sniffed and snorted and gulped it down. It didn’t sound pleasurable but the look on his face contrasted it. She didn’t know what coke looked like beyond white powder. His had a sheen to it. Almost as if it’d been sprayed on.

Seeing how seemingly normal he was on it intrigued her. But Roger was a veteran.

“I figured you’d be like… Twitching and sweating and shit…”

“This will probably be the best coke you ever do in your life. If you do it, of course… It’s not that stepped on fuckin’ bullshit they sell to you guys ‘cause you’re white and scared and whatever…”  

“I heard you can’t get a boner on that shit.”

“Honey, they could Novocain my dick and I’d still be able to fuck you.”

Her head bobbed she laughed. “Oh my God, you’re weird…. Ugh… It’s all over the place anyway. And where I’m going to law school… Might as well, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Start with that little bit… You can always do more. Y’know what I’m saying?”

She awkwardly held the tightly rolled bill and lowered her face to the counter, hair hanging down. He got a look at how wide she was and got hard. He was teetering on the edge between fucking like a rabbit and losing contact with mission control. But he had Viagra. He had every fuckin’ drug you could ever want.

She snorted it, jumping a bit as she pinched her nose and set the bill down. Roger giggled and rubbed her broad, soft, back.

“It’s OK… It’s just get it down… And in just a second…”

Her eyes opened wide, and she started to smile. “Oh… Oh my God…”

“Hehehehehehe…” Roger chuckled.

“Can I do a little more?”

“You shittin’ me? You can have as much as you want… Just… Don’t go overboard…”

She did another bump and put a hand to her breasts. Prime fat pussy. Early 20’s, round, soft, her bust was huge, but her belly was bigger. Roger got them both a drink and they took a seat.

“Are you a drug dealer?” She blurted out.

“Are you a cop?”

She laughed. “Um… No. I’m not. I don’t think I’d pass the physical fitness test…”

She patted her belly and laughed.

“Y’know I always admire a fat girl who’s comfy in her own skin…”

“Hehehehe… Well… I’ve always been a big girl… And God… That freshman 15? Try double that…”

“Comfy in your skin… I can see why…”

He panted as he smushed her belly and she closed her eyes.

“What do you do, Roger?”

“I told ya, I’m an author.”

“…What have you written?”

“I wrote a story called Pizza and Ice Cream that got me on the radar and then I put out Fish, Scales, and Whales. Which in hindsight, I dunno… The rhyming title was kinda corny. But it was based a lot around my life…”

“So that’s all you do is write? No day job?”

“Hehehehehe… You sound like you’re the one writing a book…”

“No! No! I’m just curious… This place is actually kinda nice compared to the shitholes people our age live in.”

“Never had a day job in my life. My old man was sorta this local tough guy. Had his fingers in a lot of pies. Collected. Sold. Boosted… And my mother… Drinks.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Eh, don’t be. She’s a bitter, drunk, cunt. She oughta be, though. Makes sense. My old man? When he tied one on… Turned into fuckin’ Rocky…”

“You mean… He hit your mom?”

“By the time I was big enough to defend her he was rotting away from cancer. Thought about smothering him here and there. But that would’ve been too easy… Guy got our fuckin’ door kicked in, DCF, the whole nine. Nothing but grief. He… He could never sit still, he always had to be out fuckin’ around and making trouble… Anyhow… Fuck him. He’s dead. I got a book deal. I got a nice place. I got more fuckin’ drugs than Pablo fuckin’ Escobar. I won. I did everything he told me I’d never do…”

“So… You do sell…”

Roger rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna have to check between your tits for a mic young lady…”

“Oh my God, are you serious!? I’m not a cop!?”

“I do. Just as supplemental income…”

He looked out the window suddenly as a cruiser rolled by. Not for him. But it was there.

“Hey, uh… I don’t expect you Harvard motherfuckers to have the balls or stupidity to try and come back here, but…”

“What… What’re you talking about?”

It was happening again. A new phenomenon. Aggression out of nowhere. Paranoia out of nowhere. It’d been subtle at first but was amping up every time.

“I’m just saying I’m a nice guy. But I’m OFD. Y’know what that means?”

“What?”

“Originally from Dorchester. And you know where I live. And have an idea of what I got…”

She laughed. “Roger, I don’t care… I’m not gonna rob you… Jesus…”

Roger shook his head, realizing what he’d said. “I’m sorry… You’re right… I guess I’m just not quite used to being with your caliber of woman…”

“By which you mean…”

“C’mon! You’re goin’ to fuckin’ Harvard! You got the life!”

“Yeah, well… I guess I’ve been very blessed in life. We’ve all got problems but… Money has never been one of mine. I just try not to be a snob…”

“No, no, no, no… I feel like a lot of rich kids fetishize being poor. Like it’s cool to come from a broken home. I look into your eyes, and I see honesty… Kindness… You’re genuine. Innocent. Believe me when I say there ain’t shit to be proud of coming from where I’m from…”

“You like my eyes, huh? You tell that to every big girl?”

“Oh, no… That’s not the only thing I like. Not at all…”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm….”

They started making out on the couch and went to the bedroom. Roger ran back suddenly to the kitchen.

“ROGER!” She screamed as if she needed his cock.

“I’m just grabbing the blow!!!!”

Roger got the coke on the plate and blew a line. She did another bump. He slipped some fingers in. She was ready.

“You sure you can handle all this?” She said, rubbing her belly.

“All that and more…”

He put a rubber on, and she got into position. She took a deep breath as she felt her body begin to jiggle and shake. As much as she seemed fine with her weight it was more like an apathetic admission of defeat. With wealth came abundance and with busy parents came more freedom.

She tried to focus on the way he tore into her flesh like a werewolf. How hard he was inside her. There wasn’t much rhythm, though. She felt his sweat drip down her back as she moaned and he kept going.

Though it may have lacked technique, it was a rough, rugged, fucking, and she came twice before he pulled both calf muscles and squeezed her ass as hard as he could and his cock ejected a spurt of dehydrated jizz into his Jimmy hat. Dripping with sweat he dismounted her and lit a cigarette.

“Can… HUFF… I have one… Too?”

“Oh, you a bad girl now, huh?”

She couldn’t talk. She just gestured with her fingers to demand them. He gave her one.

She did another tooter. They chatted and fucked until the sun rose and the loser birds began to chirp. She was a big reader. And taught Roger about stuff that, as a published author, should’ve been common knowledge. He let her read some of his book.

“What do you think?”

“I like it!”

“Bullshit. That’s not the kinda book for a Harvard girl…”

“And what exactly is? Twilight? Your prose is rough. But you read like a natural. You move off of instinct. There are metaphors here I’m sure you don’t even know you wrote. You do use ‘fuck’ a lot, though. It’s…”

“It’s Boston…”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right…”

“What could I improve on? Be honest…”

“You sure? I don’t wanna be mean…”

“Honey… I know how to be mean. You’re not mean. Go ahead.”

“There’s a sense of glorification of the criminal lifestyle. Which, I suppose, is fine. Hollywood does it all the time. But… Well, you said your father got arrested and took the rap for the Cocaine in your room…”

“That don’t make him a fuckin’ hero. In for a penny…”

“No, no, no, that’s not what I mean. I just mean that it shows the other side of that world. And where it ultimately ends for everyone. But you mostly just kinda… It’s flashy. Like a 50 Cent video…”

“Ha! Alright, alright… Y’know what? You got a point. ‘Cause there’s a lot more that comes with this life than what you see in the movies. But I didn’t wanna write about taking beatings and rippin’ motherfuckers off ‘cause I wanted to come across more badass…”

She smiled, sighed, and took a drag. She put a hand to his chest. “Roger… The best writing… Is honest writing. Tell the truth. Every bloody detail. Every feeling it gave you. Evoking feeling is one of the biggest purposes of art. Plus, nobody’s Superman…”

They locked eyes for a while and kissed.

They took a liking to each other quickly. Though she would stress she could never take a guy like Roger home to her parents. He understood. But he loved talking to her. He really loved fucking her. And every time they hooked up they did blow. And drank…

She started chipping in for it. Doing more of it. Taking some home. Bags were forming under her eyes. And she was losing weight. She was chatty, though the substance that used to saturate her words was gone.

She rubbed her finger on the plate and onto her gums. Roger put his arm around her.

“Hey, uh…”

“What?!”

“Relax! How you been doin’ in school?”

She scowled. “That’s none of your business…”

“I’m just asking!”

“My grades are slipping a little bit, but I’m fine…”

“OK. You just been…”

“Losing weight? Am I gross now?”

“No… Kayleigh…. Listen… I just don’t wanna see you…”

“You get my money, don’t you? My pussy?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Roger, you’re a Dot rat scumbag drug dealer. But now you have a soul? C’mon…”

She did another line.

“I’m cutting you off.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m cutting you off.”

“What do you give a shit about me, anyway? I’ve heard your war stories. You’re a thug…”

“A thug you come and see multiple times a week. Kayleigh. I know how you feel right now. But a girl like you isn’t supposed to feel that way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying you’re on your way to Harvard Law and you’re gonna get strung out on blow and end up expelled if you keep seeing me. And I won’t have that. We can still talk. But you look… Unwell…”

“Yeah, well, I’m losing weight. It’s not like I look worse than when I was fat…”

“So, you say…”

“What? You think some other guy is gonna start fucking me now?”

“I don’t care who you fuck… I think you’re just in too deep…”

“In too deep? Alright. Fuck you. Who are you to judge me, anyway? You fuckin’ junky. Totin’ pistols, throwing beatings, oooooh, Billy Badass! You’ll end up just like your father.”

Roger took a deep breath. “You’re gonna see a different side of me if you don’t pull those sagging jeans up and get your ass outta my place.”

“Fine. Fine! Fuck you… I knew you were a shitbag when we met…”

He grabbed the back of her hair and pulled a pistol from behind his back, putting the barrel to her cheek. She immediately panicked.

“STOP!”

“You’re God damn right I’m a shitbag. It’s in my blood. I was born into this. But you weren’t. And I’m not about to adopt you. I want you to go to your apartment. I want you to go the fuck to bed. Wake up. Eat. And knock this shit the fuck off. You’re too good for it. And besides… Your parents will catch on…”

“OK! OK, Roger, please don’t hurt me…”

“I’m not gonna hurt you. But you were talking crazy. I tried to be a gentleman about it, but you kept pushing. I’m gonna go to Hell someday, Kayleigh. But I got some morals…”

“OK! Just let go! Please!”

Roger let go of her and tucked his pistol calmly. “Door’s over there.”

“You put a gun to my fucking head?!? You psycho?!?!”

Roger just stared back at her, dead eyed.

“I could call the cops! I could have this place raided and you could…”

“You do that? A couple of strung-out white boys will pay a visit to Hull… 737 Nantasket Ave? They’ll have guns. And they’re drug addicts. And the cops will find your mother and father’s heads face down in their fuckin’ caviar…”

“How… How do you…”

“Got my sources.”

“You’re crazy…”

She left in a weeping fit. But called him the next day…

“Fuck you want?” He answered.

“I just called to say I’m sorry…”

“Long as you do what I told ya to do you won’t have shit to be sorry for…”

“My friends noticed the weight loss… Grades… You were right. I’m slipping. And I need to keep my eyes on the prize…”

“That’s good.”

“Would you have really shot me?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about. I don’t have a gun.”

“Y’know, when you…”

Roger cleared his throat. She got the message.

“Sometimes in my world, Kayleigh? You gotta scare people. You scared?”

“Yes…”

“Y’know I really loved the time we had together. But you’re not the kinda girl I can drag down with my bullshit, y’know? You’re not doomed.”

“Neither are you, Roger…”

“That’s very sweet. But nah. I chose my path. I’ll be fine.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “OK. Take care, Roger.”

“Are you finished with this shit? Or are you done?”

“I’m… I’m done. I’m all shook up…”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright. Sorry for anything I didn’t do. You find yourself a good guy and get your degrees and ride off into the sunset…”

“OK, Roger… Bye.”

“Bye.”

**

Roger, drenched with blood and still seeping from his face, slowly rose to his feet. Kayleigh looked on, terrified.

“You gotta… You gotta get a badge number or…”

“Shhhhh…”

“Roger! Do you need an ambulance?!?”

Roger shook his head. Spit out a clot of blood. “You take care, Kayleigh…”

“You too…”

He staggered his way home, walking past all the other junkies and unlocking his bedroom, sitting on his mattress, finding a vein, and shooting up. It had been a big one. As he flopped backwards his impenetrable heroin blanket was pierced by guilt.

Kayleigh… A junky…

Eh, it’s not your fault…

You tried…

But you also could’ve just…

Not offered her any.

But his guilt tank had long overflowed. As he nodded out he was almost positive a few ribs were broken.