the little bit i ended up writing last night

“Yo, I’m out,” I said, trying to get Andy to fucking move out of my way. He was sloppy drunk and trying to charm me back into his life.

“C’mon goddess. One more hand with these bitches. You’re killin’ it.” He leaned in, breath warm against my neck. “I gotta prize for your next win.”

I slapped his arm. “Get the fuck off me, I don’t want your smelly ass.”

But he hadn’t been offering himself as the prize — he flashed a baggy of white powder at me and my nose started tingling. I got all dizzy with memories of the euphoria I’d experienced under the influence. He was offering me what would easily sell on the streets for $200.

Part of me didn’t want to even open that door again, because it’s insatiable. The cravings come back so strong, chasing the high, but the high is never good enough.

But I sat back down at the table, determined to win the game. By sunrise I’d won Andy more money than I’d earned working for gabe, and snorted enough coke to have my allergies acting up. As I stumbled out of the bar and glanced at my phone, it suddenly hit me: I’d done exactly what gabe and Toby had warned me about.

Fuck.