Diary of a Daydreamer

Psychological Thriller, Take a journey throught the eyes of an addict who quickly delves deeper into the interwoven realms of reality and fiction. Dark Humour.

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6. Questions and Cancers

As I fight my comedown with a few more lines of what’s left of Trixie’s coke stash, I notice how I’ve pretty much cleared out Trixie’s supply and don’t have any money to pay for it. That’s my cue to leave.

 

Trixie appears to be getting ready to head off too. She slides on her faux-fur and tells me that she’s off to see Trevor with Sarai since her place is more secure; it’s got a door for a start. I ask Trixie who she’s talking about when she said Sarai.

 

Sum Yung Thai sends me a mean scowl. Trixie nods her head in the direction of Sum Yung Thai and informs me that she is Sarai. At some point along the way, the name ‘Sum Yung Thai’ got stuck in my head. I even said it to her face a few times. It’s no wonder she’s staring at me, picturing a thousand daggers piercing through every inch of my body. Definitely time to leave.

 

I grab the bag with the head, and set off down the street. Paranoia starts creeping in, eating at my soul; every person in the street becomes a friend of my enemies. Every enemy becomes the law. I cower down the streets not making eye contact with any of the people staring at me. I tell myself its lack of sleep, but my mind doesn’t trust me and I’m not sure if I trust my mind anymore.

 

I head towards Lucky Louie’s; I have got to find out what he told the skinheads and find out what he knows. That’s if he’s still alive. My hand is now frozen to the bag while my head glows with heat. My bodies not in good shape; I need it fixed.

 

The door is locked but I see light from inside. I look through the window but it’s too dusty to see if anyone is alive in there. I knock on the door until I finally hear someone coming.  A short stocky man emerges from the dust. It’s Louie. He opens the door; he’s smoking a cigar with blood running down his blackened cheekbone. He growls, telling me to enter. I see two dead bodies slumped on the floor next to a barstool. There are more holes than wall, holding the place up, and it seems Louie has made himself a lasagne.

 

His enigmatic smile conceals his violent and dominating personality. He’s an ex-military man; his tales aren’t for weak hearts. He saw most of his platoon blown up and ripped apart, hearing their screams through the deafening roar of machine gun fire.  Just to save the rest of his platoon he surrendered himself to avoid them having his same future fate. He was captured and tortured for months; he died three times only to be brought back to life, just to be tortured some more.

 

Finally when the war ended, he was released from capture and sent home, but you can tell in his eyes that he came home to a land he didn’t recognise, an unfriendly place from the nation he went off fighting for. No one gave him the gratification or the acknowledgement for the devotion he put into fighting for the nation he once loved. When he returned, he brought the war back with him, always locked in a soldier’s state of mind, only this time he’s giving himself orders. He doesn’t make mistakes and knows how to survive. Somehow bad news always lands on his doorstep. Something tells me he like’s all the chaos and conflict that comes to him, I guess that’s why he opened the door to me.  Always best to stay on his good side though, otherwise you could end up looking like what’s left of Larry and Moe over there.

 

I have a seat on my usual chair; it’s the only one in here that doesn’t have one leg shorter than the others. Have to enjoy the little things in life. As I sit in by the bar, Louie quickly seizes a piece of paper sitting in front of me and crunches it in his pocket before grabbing his fork and gorging on a huge portion of lasagne. He seems agitated, but it’s understandable under the circumstances. I place the bag on the bar and nod my head inviting Louie to have a look inside.

 

He puts his fork down, stabbing it in his lasagne, walks over and opens the bag. The shaken expression on his face is not the response I was expecting from Louie who’s seen more body parts than customers in his time. Eventually he lifts his eyes up from the bag and meets mine. Then in a quiet husky tone, all he says is “it’s Lauren”.

 

Louie slumps down on a bar stool; mumbling how he didn’t believe it was true, muttering how he didn’t know how he let this happen to his sister.

 

A few drinks pass and Louie breaks down the story, how only saw his sister once since he got back from the war. While Louie was away, Lauren got mixed with the wrong crowd and got caught up in the rat race to the top of the drug classes.

 

A year of knowing Louie he never mentioned her, made me think I didn’t know much about him; must be some sort of self-preservation.

 

Louie tells me how he’s in a lot of trouble. He attempted to blackmail a man called Max, a name that keeps popping up more times than my neighbours popped pills. He tells me how the gang involving Max, Snow White, Whitey and the three stooges came round after the attempted blackmail, they raved about how they killed his sister and how they would kill him if he didn’t destroy the information involved. Angered by what the skinheads were saying the shootout began. I never thought Louie could be so naive and end up in this situation. After he finishes, I tell him the events of my eventful night.

 

Louie doesn’t know why the cops were after Lauren but he’d bet big money that drugs were involved. He tells me that Max is the owner of the nightclub ‘The Crowbar’ and normally hangs out in there, most nights. Guess I’ll be paying a visit to Max and have a chat with the man that’s messing with my routine. Louie equips me with a small revolver, an old six shooter that fires one bullet at a time. It needs the hammer to be pulled back before each shot can be fired. Not the greatest tool of vengeance I’ve ever seen, but it will have to do. Nightclubs have just closed up for the night, guess I got some time to waste until The Crowbar doors open.

 

Seeing as there’s no drugs, booze or dopamine to fill my head in here, I have to go elsewhere to find some medication before I start seeing ghosts or gremlins. The only shop I know that would be open for business would be Rick, he’s not exactly a drug dealer that plays fair, but there are no rules in a game that the law won’t control. He’s stocked up with guns and if you seem a threat to his wife or his stash, he wouldn’t think twice to shoot you down. He doesn’t care about his own life but even looking his girl wrong is a very big mistake. I’ll be careful. I just hope I made a good impression last time I was there, if I didn’t I’ll be fed bullets quicker than I can swallow.

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