Post by Asa Carter Hennessey on Jul 2, 2009 18:29:09 GMT
Asa leaned into the wall, the coarse brick digging into his back through a worn vinyl overcoat. There would be hell later should he find any more tears, the raggedy thing had sentimental value over so many years, but he wasn’t about to snap a syringe (should he finally get a hold of one) to stitch it back together. Moving away from the wall slightly, he chose the discomfort of sitting more awkwardly, the coat was too priceless. “Ugh, how damn long is this going to take?” Asa muttered to himself, scanning the area through the sea of heads. He looked up at the sky. He could see clouds moving in overhead. Within a matter of minutes the blue would disappear over the horizon and the rain would start. He ripped a pair of stolen sunglasses off, twisting and twirling them between his fingers. He did not need these now, and it was rather annoying, considering how good they looked with the rest of his ensemble and how they were the perfect guise for his eyes and the deathly appearance they always bore. In his own opinion, without them he looked like a sickly horse.
“Goddamnit,” he said spitting. Since he had been here he had been able to get a hold of many prescription pain pills and even once a hit of acid, but it was only recently that he was approached by a boy who said he knew where to get dope. Asa was intrigued, what with his main source of the stuff, Crystal, being dead of an overdose and all of her friends apparently too stupid to bring some to the jail. Asa put a deposit for his delivery, what might equal a pack of good cigarettes on the outside, even though he was in deep debt already. The boy then told him to wait by the back wall the next afternoon to pick up his “package.” Today, right now, was ‘next afternoon.’ He had been sitting there for nearly an hour and a half and was still empty handed. It seemed rather apparent that the sneaky bastard had made off with the better portion of his cigarettes, and he would be owed a beating, but Asa also owed him credit for being a very clever thief were it the case. Asa himself had always been a very clever thief. He thought prison would only improve his skills. His desperation to be high by his choice drug must have put him off his game.
‘What the hell am I gonna do now?’ He thought, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out three vicodin, the last of his supply until he got more cigarettes (or by some miracle, money) to trade. This, by his idea was not good enough for even a small high, and vikes seemed unwanted in here, unlike on the streets, so he could not exactly trade them up for something better. “This is total bullshit!” He exclaimed loudly, causing several heads to turn. He pulled up his collar and shrunk into his coat when he noticed they were looking at him, if they did not have something to give him, now was not the time he wanted them looking. If these pills would not hold out it would be like detoxing all over again. He hated the feeling of being sober, and if it came to it he would have to fight for something, anything.
“Goddamnit,” he said spitting. Since he had been here he had been able to get a hold of many prescription pain pills and even once a hit of acid, but it was only recently that he was approached by a boy who said he knew where to get dope. Asa was intrigued, what with his main source of the stuff, Crystal, being dead of an overdose and all of her friends apparently too stupid to bring some to the jail. Asa put a deposit for his delivery, what might equal a pack of good cigarettes on the outside, even though he was in deep debt already. The boy then told him to wait by the back wall the next afternoon to pick up his “package.” Today, right now, was ‘next afternoon.’ He had been sitting there for nearly an hour and a half and was still empty handed. It seemed rather apparent that the sneaky bastard had made off with the better portion of his cigarettes, and he would be owed a beating, but Asa also owed him credit for being a very clever thief were it the case. Asa himself had always been a very clever thief. He thought prison would only improve his skills. His desperation to be high by his choice drug must have put him off his game.
‘What the hell am I gonna do now?’ He thought, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out three vicodin, the last of his supply until he got more cigarettes (or by some miracle, money) to trade. This, by his idea was not good enough for even a small high, and vikes seemed unwanted in here, unlike on the streets, so he could not exactly trade them up for something better. “This is total bullshit!” He exclaimed loudly, causing several heads to turn. He pulled up his collar and shrunk into his coat when he noticed they were looking at him, if they did not have something to give him, now was not the time he wanted them looking. If these pills would not hold out it would be like detoxing all over again. He hated the feeling of being sober, and if it came to it he would have to fight for something, anything.
