He called on a cold dreary Monday night. "I need you." His voice
croaked into the phone.
I didn't ask why, I just got into my car and left.
The wet streets were illuminated. In every puddle a broken city
A broken city without a heart. A city on it's deathbed. A city
wrought with infection. I sped through those wet streets.
The tires of my car breaking that reflection. The cold puddles
licked my car's tires in a slick fervor.
I parked in front of his house. A shitty gray house in a shitty
I walked through the lawn, a gurgle of wet grass and mud with
I had a key he gave me and let myself in. He was always too
afraid to answer the door.
I found him in the bathtub with a bottle of vodka.
He lay there in the suds with his chin under the water. The
bottle half empty rested on the corner of the tub.
"Drink." He said
I took a long drought from the bottle. The vodka dripped down my
chin and burned my throat.
He was staring at me. His cheeks were red and his eyes
I could tell he had been crying.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
He stood up and hugged me naked from the the tub.
His wet body pushed up against mine, his sorrow soaking through
" I'm going to kill myself." He muttered into my
"I want you to be here when I do it"
"Tonight?" I asked.
He nodded his head and shuddered.
"I'm going to overdose."
He let go of me and laid back down in the tub.
I took a seat on the toilet.
He kept his bathroom immaculately clean unlike mine. A pale face
glinted at me through the floor tiles reflection.
" let's get you out of the tub." I said.
I drained the water, he stood up and dried himself off.
He was remarkably skinny. His skin stretched over his bones. I
could make out every single one of his ribs. I could almost see
his heart beating.
His bony hips pressed up against mine, he planted a kiss on my
He got dressed in his room while I took sips of vodka in the
I sank into the couch slowly growing drunk.
He came into the living room in a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms.
He offered me a cigarette, which I accepted.
The tips of our cigarettes lit up our faces and the smoke rose to
"Why?" I asked
"I'm ready to die." He replied.
We sat in silence, inhaling and exhaling, destroying our
His lips were beautiful when they wrapped around his cigarette.
They formed a heart.
I'd known him all my life. We grew up together, went to school
together, and eventually fucked together. We'd never dated
though. He never saw the point, and although I loved him I never
He probably loved me too but he had never said it and I never
I put my cigarette in the ashtray grinding it flat to the
"Come to bed." He said
I grabbed what was left of the vodka as he took my hand and
pulled me to his bedroom.
We sat criss-cross on his bed and took turns swigging the liquor.
Each drink he scrunched up his face in disgust. The way the skin
by his eyes wrinkled made me want to kiss his cheeks and hold him
in my arms. I never have minded the tastes of vodka it slid down
my throat like water. I wonder what he found attractive about me.
I've never thought myself beautiful. I probably never
He opened a drawer in his nightstand and pulled out a syringe and
heroin. We heated it into a spoon then I tied him off and
injected the drug into his veins.
I gave him what I thought was a lethal dose. I took some for
myself but not nearly as much.
He put his hands in my pants and gripped my cock.
"If I'm going to be dead tomorrow I want to fuck." He
I nodded my head and wrapped my lips around his. I was his angel
of death. I was a god and a devil. I was his executioner, I was
In the morning he was dead and I was alive. I woke holding his cold
body. His pristine face looked relaxed. He looked to be in peaceful
slumber. I kissed his perfect lips and left.
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