West sniffed, staring with half shut, bloodshot eyes at the needle in his shaky hands. He licked his chapped lips in anticipation, flicking the top of the needle to disperse a small bubble. The techno music playing in the other room made the walls throb, but West didn’t pay it much attention. He couldn’t pay much attention. West shuddered, glancing up at his reflection in the dingy, shattered mirror. His sweatshirt and jeans were tron up and stained, hanging off his unhealthily skinny frame. He looked like he was made of glass. Dark circles ran around his eyes, presenting the fact he hadn’t slept. In short; hell. But he didn’t care. Or maybe he did. His mind was so fried these days, he wasn’t sure.

West sniffed again, shivering. It’d been days since his last dose. He used his free hand to pull back his dirty hood, and he tilted his head to one side. He raised the other hand, drew a breath, and pressed it into a throbbing vein on his neck. He sighed in relief as he felt the familiar warm spread.