wild star| ongoing

fifty-eight

CHAPTER 58:
May 25th, 2016
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Brandy lay on the bed, her body wracked with the torment of withdrawal. Waves of agony surged through her, a relentless assault on her senses. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, her body alternating between chills and feverish heat, each moment amplifying the torment coursing through her veins.

Her muscles cramped, contorting in protest. She lay there, a prisoner of her own body, longing for the relief that seemed agonizingly out of reach.

One day without her fix, it felt like an eternity.

"Ace," she moaned in pain. "Please, I need something. Just a little bit. I feel like I'm dying. I just need a little. Get me some. Please."

Ace stood rigidly at the foot of the bed, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Not now, Brandy. I said later," his voice was strained, holding onto the last shreds of patience.

The air felt thick, crawling with invisible tendrils of need that coiled around her, tightening their grip. She pressed her clammy palms against her temples, trying to still the unrest erupting within her. "Ace!" Her voice slashed through the silence, a desperate plea coated in raw urgency. "I need it! I can't wait! It hurts like hell!"

"Brandy, I got shit to do. I can't just spend my time scouring the city for coke because you decided to bite off more than you can chew."

Her laughter was brittle, a hollow echo of the woman she once was. "You bastard..."

He shook his head and walked to the bedroom door. "Either figure it out yourself or wait."

Her nails dug into her skin, a futile attempt to anchor herself. "Where the fuck am I supposed to get it from then?"

His eyes flared, a tempest gathering in their depths. "Not my fucking problem."

She seized the nearest object, a pillow, and hurled it with all the impotent rage coursing through her veins. It landed with a hollow thud. She was in misery, and he refused to listen, and each moment was a prolongation of her pain. "I hate you. Go away! Just get out! You're fucking useless!"

"Useless?" He spat the word back at her, a bitter pill he was forced to swallow. "You're the one who can't get your shit together."

He was no stranger to the trade, no foreigner to the cravings that gripped Brandy. His patience, worn thin by the incessant whining, snapped like a brittle twig in a storm. "You think I'm your goddamn savior or something? I never promised that. I've got my own damn problems too."

Brandy's chest heaved with ragged breaths. "You're just like them. All of you. Promises and lies!"

"You think I don't know? I know this dance better than anyone."

"You're a drug dealer, for fuck's sake! Why can't you just help me?"

"I'm sick of your fucking whining." He turned around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Tremors of withdrawal danced beneath her skin as she sat up, her knuckles whitening as her fists clenched, a futile attempt to contain the tremors threatening to betray her resolve.

Struggling against dizziness and weakness, Brandy pushed herself off the bed, her body unsteady and her head spinning. She staggered toward the closet, her movements clumsy, and grabbed the first set of clothes-a hoodie and a pair of jeans-before hastily dressing herself. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the phone resting on the bedside table, her breaths labored and shallow. With unsteady steps, she navigated out of the room, every inhale and exhale a battle against the pounding ache in her head.