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Writing creative writing (drug references)


Ravenstorture
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Just tell me what you think. Honesty apreciated.

Ravenstorture

September 28th, 2001

I sit on the floor and roll my hand absentmindedly over the ampoules on the floor in front of me. There are three encasing gold liquids, like beech honey, and two with a clear, viscous liquid inside. I glance towards my bedroom boor, bolted several times, for the millionth time that hour. The sound of the television down the hall drags me screaming back into the world in which I am based. For now.
I hiccup, and then swear under my breath. It jolts my body in a way I do not feel comfortable with, not at all, and I lean against the wall and hold my breath, wishing it would go away. Reaching behind me, I feel the edge of slippery paper under my shaking fingertips. Dragging it out, I flick the sterile packet across my fingers a couple of times and close my eyes, feeling the pulsating vibrations of my surroundings in time with the music I have playing, to mask the moaning that will follow.
I open my eyes and rip open the packet, drawing out the syringe and placing it on the floor next to the ampoules. I begin to unbutton my shirt slowly, and when I reach halfway I slip my arms out from the sleeves and let the shirt drop to my lap. My right hand searches the floor for a silver ampoule. I pick it up and break the neck of the ampoule against the wall carefully as not to spill any precious liquid and place it back on the floor, dipping the needle of the syringe into the crystalline substance. Drawing strength into my hand, I slowly retract the pedicle, lengthening the instrument of pleasure and pain to almost double its size. I exhaust the ampoule, pushing all thoughts of Flynn to the deepest recesses of my mind, burying guilt with the excuse that that is where he is safe. But as I open another ampoule and suck out the venom inside, my heart flinches painfully away from the fact that there is nowhere safe inside my head. The syringe is full, so I bring it up in front of my face and squirt some liquid out to eliminate any lethal air bubbles. Undoing my watch, I shove it up my arm past the elbow and pump my fist rhythmically. I watch my left arm in avid fascination as the veins begin to rise like fences keeping me from peaceful dreams and a boyfriend that never leaves me. My eyes dart quickly from my arm to the door, then to the syringe in my hand and back to my arm again. They creep up to my elbow as my other hand encases the syringe and positions it in my fingers.
Turning the needle around to face into my elbow, I hiccup again, violently jolting my arm and almost stabbing myself with the syringe. I swear again and lean back quickly, pushing the steel into my raised vein and injecting myself with imitation happiness. I feel the taste of it come up into my throat, like mercury or copper or one of those metals, and that silvered feeling all along the back of my neck and shoulders, where it'll hurt the next morning. I throw the syringe away before I lose myself in the rush and fall on it, and pull the tourniquet down off my scarred forearm.
The music becomes dull and heavy, like it's playing in another room, and as I shut my eyes I feel hands running up my thighs, pushing themselves into me and pulling everything out onto the cold, hardwood floor. I open my eyes again to behold the magnificent sight of all my internal and sexual organs lying in my lap and across the paraphernalia of my self-destruction. The hands squirm inside me as something tightens like angel wire round their source and they begin to die a violent death. I can feel the empty chasm inside me grow still as the hands disappear and I vomit my heart out onto my crossed legs, still beating sporadically to the beat of the distant music. Another rush comes, and this time I'm standing, someone is underneath me, I'm trying to see if it's someone I trust but I cant see their face because they are lying on their stomach and we're too deep underwater for there to be enough clarity for vision. Some clock chimes in the distance, I can't count the bells but just in case it was twelve I wish myself a happy birthday and force my love into a tighter ball at a deeper place in my mind.

:demon:
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[color=purple]Raiha-san recommended I read this and I'm glad she did. Your work is amazing and deep. It's really a work of intelligent and plagued art. This really is amazing and I hope to be able to read more in the future.[/color]
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