FicWad

SHANE: I was expecting Gerard to arrive at any minute, so I could tell him about that brother of his. I wondered with delight about what he'd do next. Perhaps he'd demand the drugs, then go attack Mikey or something. It would've been so interesting to see what would happen next, if only Gerard had come. I waited until 9 and figured he wasn't turning up.
I checked the timetable I had sorted out. He was next due to come over Christmas Eve. Gerard is serious about this and most likely addicted by now, probably more than he realises. But then, he might be at home. That will be an interesting test actually. Will he choose me over his family? Something told me yes, and the sound came from clear plastic bags and it's power, sinsiter entrails.

In case he didn't turn up, I sent a message to another friend of mine, asking them to come over that night. I had an enticing offer too. It was only for them to pick up thier gloves they left, a 5 minute kinda thing, but believe me, once they down a couple drinks, they'll stay longer. A whole lot longer, and if Gerard came to the door then fuck it, it might just be an excuse to stir up some fun once I zipped up again.

I was very excited, and soon stopped thinking about why Gerard was absent. Either way, whichever turned up, Chrisitmas eve would be a very different one. Moving to Belleville turned out to be one of the best decisions I'd ever made. I get paid decently and I live in a block full of people who could be just as shady as me. What's not to like about that? I'm sure a dealer is on the top floor even.
Yet I know that my life will not stay like this forever. All it would take is one slip up from me, one pill mixup even, and I'd be done for. I live on the edge constantly, though the adrenaline and what fills my days and nights seems worth it. Maybe I could return to Manhattan sometime, to the old neighbourhood and see my parents and my friends I left in the dark. Well, maybe not see see my parents but I knew where'd they'd be, even if I just passed one on the street even it could suffice and quench my curiosity on how the bastard and his bitch were doing.

Is a normal life out of my reach now? Will I, wherever I go, be tempted by strangers?

Weirdly, I sometimes think about what I'll be like if I didn't do what I did, but everytime I meet the same conclusion, that getting help from anyone, will get me arrested, thus putting me in jail, giving me plenty of time to rot and hate myself. And I can't change my ways now, I've gone too far, so many people are just a piece of meat to me with a little keyhole to thier heart and trust me, many are simple clones that can require the same key. The same charm and even the same words. Different fuck, same old tactics.
That's the one thing that wipes the smile from my face:What I do controls my life and there is no turning back. SometimesI wonder about living a normal life, no matter how far away it could be.

There and then, I made a decision. A big one like I tned to make sitting around and dreaming away.

'After I'm done with these guys, the Way's and Frank, I'll move. I'm certain that I can finish my business pretty quickly and it can be done by Christmas Day. I'm in a risky situation as it is. People here notice how many different boys and girls enter my flat, and I can't have any rumours spreading. I have enough cash in the bank to get going but if I want to rent a place in Manhattan I could always sell my pictures and drugs to my trusted friends. I suppose I'll have to, the police would catch me if I left that cork pinboard or the drugs around.'


And if Shane made it out of Belleville, he would have tried to live a little more normally. He would have rented a crappy little place in Manhattan as he told himself he would. For the first few months, he'd stay away from old haunts, keep away from any drug dealers, give a wide berth to parks and lonely girls, and most importantly, stay away from short guys with confused commitment attitudes or nerdy ones with glasses who barely knew themselves.
Shane would try and Shane would fail. He might have started drinking again, drowning himself in a new addiction.
He may have concentrated on the one person he loved, or tried to find Clay again. He'd reject help from anyone trying to reach out and meet his demise in a room he ultimately choose, be it with barred windows, a hospital, or his bedroom, surrounded by old friends: bottles and boys.