031 POV order G-pack 694

Being out of the car feels good. With every step I take away from the man I feel better, stronger, freer. But knowing he's behind me with a high calibre handgun aimed at my back in case I make any sudden movements disparages my swelling sense of hope. 

As I approach the dealers I keep my eyes on the ground, watching them only in my murky peripheral vision. I think back to the countless times I made this walk. Not just here, but to the other spots around town. Even when I was on holiday in Mexico I managed to find a dealer. I made it a point to find a supply. 

A sickness swells in my stomach. Nausea runs through me. It's almost as if there's a part of me that thinks I'm genuinely about to try and score for myself. My body is reading the situation and trying to get me to change course. There's a certain amount of pride in knowing that this is my visceral reaction to forcing myself to score drugs. I find it comforting on some level to know that my body is physically revulsed by the idea of imbibing these toxic chemicals ever again. 

'Help you lady?' The smaller of the two sitting on the brick fence says to me. I look up and realise that I must have drifted a little there as I'm much closer to them than I anticipated. I don't know why, but I don't respond at first. Maybe it's because the kid caught me off guard, maybe it's because of the gun aimed at my back, maybe it's because my body is telling me in no uncertain terms to get the hell away from here. 

'You look lost.' The taller of the two says as he sparks a cigarette to life. You're too young to smoke, I want to say to him, but I know the irony of me giving health advice wouldn't go anywhere towards building the rapport I want for them to take my request seriously.  

'I'm after a G-pack of H.' I say. In my days of using I never bought this much in one go. I know that I couldn't have trusted myself having that much on hand. As a user it's important to know your own devil and exactly what they're capable of.

The two kids exchange a look that reads: did I just hear this bitch right? They then burst out laughing. The taller says, 'Get the fuck outta here lady, 'for you get cut.' He pulls a switch-blade from his pocket in a flash. I take a step back in self defence, but only the one, and from there I stand my ground.

'You don't like money?' I find myself saying.

'The fuck you say?' The taller kid snaps and slips down from his perch. He takes two solid steps toward me and lifts his knife to my throat. As much as I want to run I hold firm. I don't make any move to push the kid away, I know that would be a mistake, not only would I get cut, but I'd run the risk of being shot by the man in the car also. 

'I know you?' The kid asks.

I shake my head slowly, 'No, you don't know me.' I say softly, calmly, trying to placate him. 

'What the hell is wrong with this guy?' The man in the car asks me through my headphones. 'If you can't deal with the situation I'm gonna drop him.' He threatens.

'No, don't do that.' I say reflexively and wish I hadn't.

'Don't do what? The kid says.

'Nothing, look, if a G-pack's too much, just say, I'll take my business elsewhere.' 

'You ain't going' nowhere til I say. Give me one good reason why I don't just cut you and take your money?'

'That's it, I'm gonna drop him,' The man in the car says, 'On my word, hit the ground.'

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