There was barely enough place for all five of them to huddle in. The graffiti around their heads was funnily innocent, but the scene itself was enough to make up for it.
They were all naked, with their hair done special for the occasion (the stash was bigger today) and make-up sprayed over the two girls' faces. The oldest of the group, a bald, twenty-one year old man, had a heroin needle in his left arm.
"He ain't movin', is he, Karl?"
"No, he ain't,"
"Shun't we call anyone?" A girl with curly, black hair and a hell of a body moved forwards to examine her dead brother.
"You crazy? They'd have us in rehab. Any of you want that?"
"But I dun think he ain't movin,"
Karl nodded, "He's dead, alright. We'll get rid of him, get dressed and go back,"
The newest of the group, a shy, fourteen year old, spoke, "He ain't got a family?"
"He ain't got anyone. He won't be missed,"
YOU ARE READING
The Palindrome Illusion (Asa's Story)
Teen FictionWhen a Stranger enters an isolated town, all moral values in the area crumble- a story of drugs, addiction, homelessness, love and insanity.
