A Flash of Words

Adam Bennett - Junk

Alen stared at the junk sitting on the living room table.

Jenny had gone and gotten more. He’d said he was done last night, but maybe she hadn’t realised he meant it this time.

One more night wouldn’t hurt.

One more last hurrah before giving it up for good.

And this time, he would make sure that Jenny knew he was done. It was for her own good too. If he got clean, he could help her get clean as well. It was going to be okay.

After another moment’s hesitation, he reached for the hit Jenny was offering him and soon slumbered in blissful numb warmth, silky smooth over all the jagged edges of the world.

He woke covered in his own piss.

Enough was enough.

The first two days were itchy as hell, waking every fifteen minutes, now hot, suddenly cold, flop sweats, and sustained dry retching minutes after his stomach’s meagre contents hit his shoes.

The erections were the worst problem. Ejaculating every ten minutes because he bumped against something was pure hell.

And then, on the third day, Jenny scored again.

“What the f**k were you thinking? You know what I’m going through right now. You’re a f*****g b***h!”

“Well excuse me for being proud of your two days sober and wanting to give you a little relief. Jesus, you’d think I’d f*****g killed someone!”

Alen backed down. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge. If you were trying to be nice … I’m sorry.”

It took another three days for him to work up the courage to quit again, and this time, he managed a week before he walked into the living room to find Jenny in the middle of a hit.

“What the f**k!”

“What?”

“You can’t do that around me!”

“I didn’t think you were here.”

“You keep doing this! Are you trying to sabotage me on purpose?”

Jenny started crying. “You are such an asshole to me. I don’t know why I bother. Just because you can’t handle your s**t doesn’t mean I should have to suffer all the time. Just f**k off.”

“Jesus f**k!” Alen sat beside her and put an arm around her. “I’m sorry. I’m so on edge. Give me that. I’ll be less of an asshole. Sorry.”

After a week, Alen once more attempted to quit.

It lasted the afternoon.

“Seriously? Are you really doing this right now? Today?”

Jenny didn’t respond.

“I asked if you were seriously going to get high on the first day of me trying to quit, right here in the kitchen.”

She said nothing.

“I asked you a question!”

Jenny turned and leveled a flat gaze. She spoke, barely raising her voice above a whisper. “I’ve had it with this, you f*****g drug-addict scum. No, shut the f**k up and listen to me for once. Are you listening? Good. None of this is real, you f*****g moron. It’s all in your head. I am not an addict. You are the only addict here. I have never, and will never touch that s**t that you are holding in your hand right now. I’m sick to f*****g death of you walking into a room where I am sitting peacefully, lighting up a bowl of that junk, blowing the smoke all over the room, and then yelling at me for ruining your sobriety. The f*****g shrink told me to let you live in your little fantasy world. He said pulling you out of it could be seriously bad news, but I’ve had enough of this s**t. You are a sick scumbag f**k, and I’m goddamn done!” Jenny stood, pulled a packed suitcase from beneath the kitchen table, and rolled it out the front door.

Alen watched her leave, perplexed. He looked down at the brown liquid rolling within the dirty glass pipe in his hand and shook his head in rage. As the door closed behind her, he shouted, “Don’t forget to take your junk, you crazy b***h! I don’t f*****g want it!”

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