Brothers
You take it from his hand and look down at it for a few seconds. Most of what the media says is bullshit anyway, you think. You bring it to your lips and inhale the smoke.
You begin hacking and coughing. Todd takes it back from you while you try to recover. He hits it and hands it back, and you take another hit, resulting in the same fit of coughing.
You pass the next time he offers. You don't like the rawness in your throat. A few seconds later you find what you do like about it. Your eyes feel like they are floating in their sockets and you feel more than a little jittery.
Todd says something to you then, you're not sure what he says, but you burst out in a fit of laughter. It seems everything is funny to you after you have smoked Todd's stuff.
A few hours later, after everything in your head has returned to normal, you sit back on the edge of your bed and think about how much fun that was; how good you felt. It's been a long time since you've felt good about anything.
As the months go by you find that you are smoking it more and more. It always feels good, but you notice that it is starting to take more to get you where you need to be. Your body must have built up some sort of tolerance. You talk to Todd about this and he suggests that you try something else.
He takes you up to his room and reaches under his bed, pulling out a little lock box. Opening the lock box, he pulls out a bag of what you at first mistake as powdered sugar, but soon realize your stupidity and recognize it for what it is; cocaine.
He gets out a mirror and a razor and cuts up two lines of it. He places a straw above one of the lines and snorts it all up his nose before reeling back and rubbing at his nostrils, "Ah, damn." He says, holding the hand mirror out to you.
You look down at the substance and consider this a moment. Todd did it, and he seems to be doing fine. Plus, he was right about the other stuff. But this is cocaine... It's addictive, isn't it? That's what the media says anyway...
You begin hacking and coughing. Todd takes it back from you while you try to recover. He hits it and hands it back, and you take another hit, resulting in the same fit of coughing.
You pass the next time he offers. You don't like the rawness in your throat. A few seconds later you find what you do like about it. Your eyes feel like they are floating in their sockets and you feel more than a little jittery.
Todd says something to you then, you're not sure what he says, but you burst out in a fit of laughter. It seems everything is funny to you after you have smoked Todd's stuff.
A few hours later, after everything in your head has returned to normal, you sit back on the edge of your bed and think about how much fun that was; how good you felt. It's been a long time since you've felt good about anything.
As the months go by you find that you are smoking it more and more. It always feels good, but you notice that it is starting to take more to get you where you need to be. Your body must have built up some sort of tolerance. You talk to Todd about this and he suggests that you try something else.
He takes you up to his room and reaches under his bed, pulling out a little lock box. Opening the lock box, he pulls out a bag of what you at first mistake as powdered sugar, but soon realize your stupidity and recognize it for what it is; cocaine.
He gets out a mirror and a razor and cuts up two lines of it. He places a straw above one of the lines and snorts it all up his nose before reeling back and rubbing at his nostrils, "Ah, damn." He says, holding the hand mirror out to you.
You look down at the substance and consider this a moment. Todd did it, and he seems to be doing fine. Plus, he was right about the other stuff. But this is cocaine... It's addictive, isn't it? That's what the media says anyway...