Snippet #2584440

Every part of Kieran's body ached, right down to his bones. The dark circles under his eyes were indicative that he hadn't slept much, if at all, the night before. He had heard both Roman and Alex leave in the afternoon, but remained on his cot in the farthest corner of the room. It wasn't unusual for him to feel this way. He didn't make much money these days, not enough to support him or his expensive addiction. Most days he had just enough of The Drug to get him through the day with mild aches and pains. If he wasn't able to get his hands on any at all, he was sick with what could only be some sort of demon flu mixed with the pleasant sensation of all his organs being turned inside out and fried. It wasn't fun and for the most part that pain is what fed his addiction.

He dug around in his backpack before finding his prize, careful to keep it as hidden as he possibly could from anyone who might see. Banging up heroin was a ridiculous process that Kieran hated every bit of, but smoking it just didn't work for him a majority of the time. He noticed that his supply was low and his heart started racing. Running this dangerously low almost guaranteed that some really shitty times were coming. He frantically dug around in his bag, hoping that by the grace of God he had just missed some, but there was nothing but the small amount he had already pulled out. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and it wasn't just the heat.

When the panic had started to form into an anxiety attack, he decided it was time to dose himself. The relief was almost immediate and he exhaled a sigh, leaning his head against the wall. He was relaxed now and the aches were gone; euphoria washed over his mind. While the lazy ecstasy of his heroin intoxication made him want to lay down and enjoy it, he knew that he had to get to work. He ran up for a quick shower, careful to avoid Finn in the process and changed into his cleanest - and favorite shirt. He really needed to do the laundry and depended on how fruitful the day was, perhaps he would have enough to get the drugs he needed and go to a laundromat.

He headed back down the stairs and pulled his guitar out of the case. It probably needed to be tuned and he needed to practice before he headed out to hit the streets. It had been a good week or two since he had had the willpower to do much of anything, even play his beloved instrument that had been with him through so much. He picked up a worn looking pick and began to strum a few chords and played a song of his, quietly as he could in an attempt not to totally wake the last few sleeping individuals. His eyes were half closed as he played, music taking him to a place that even drugs couldn't. It was in the notes that he could truly lose himself and get away from the world.