Heroin Love

by Hunter, I. M.

  Going into the kitchen to grab some cleaning supplies. Some yellow rubber gloves, bleach, garbage bags, hand towels, a paper face mask, and a bristle brush, I was ready. Making my way back into the bedroom to start cleaning. Slipping the face over my mouth and nose, slipping on the rubber gloves like a surgeon. Pulling the sheets off of the bed, the vomit sliding towards the center releasing more of the foul odor, the face mask couldn’t protect me from it. Tossing the pillows into the center of the bed in the pool of vomit.Trying to keep all of the remnants inside I folded the sheets over each other, tossing them inside of a scented garbage bag and tying it firmly. The mattress had a enormous red stain in the middle, still damp to the touch. Grabbing the bottle of bleach, dumping a majority of the bottle out onto the stain. I hopped onto the bed, bending over the stain on my hands and knees I began to scrub vigorously, the fierce odors causing my eyes to burn. Letting the bleach soak into the mattress I went into the bathroom, removing her soiled clothes from the waste basket, throwing them into another garbage bag. Taking the rest of the bleach, soaking hand towels, I wipe the shower stall top to bottom. I get on my hands and knees, starting in the far corner of the bathroom, I start mopping the floor pushing the bag of clothes behind me while making my way towards the bedroom. Do the same thing in the bedroom, finally everything was cleaned. The smell of bleach overcame the smell of vomit that infested the room, the thick bleach filled air could suffocate you. I placed the hand towels in the garbage with the soiled clothes and instantly took them to the garage to be picked up by the next garbage truck.. Finally replacing the sheets with a spare white silk set the was folded neatly in the closet.

  I quickly went over to the computer and opened Wikipedia, entering ‘drug rehab’ into the search bar. A plethora of information appeared in front of me. Looking through the table of contents clicking ‘medications,’ it brought me right to where I needed to be.

  ‘Certain opioid medications such as methadone and more recently buprenorphine (In America, "Subutex" and "Suboxone") are widely used to treat addiction and dependence on other opioids such as heroin, morphine or oxycodone. Methadone and buprenorphine are maintenance therapies intended to reduce cravings for opiates, thereby reducing illegal drug use, and the risks associated with it, such as disease, arrest, incarceration, and death, in line with the philosophy of harm reduction. Both drugs may be used as maintenance medications (taken for an indefinite period of time), or used as detoxification aids.’

  Clicking on the ‘Methadone’ link through the article I found more pertinent information.

  ‘The treatment of opiate-dependent persons with methadone will follow one of two routes. MMT (methadone maintenance therapy) is prescribed to individuals who wish to abstain from illicit drug use but have failed to maintain abstinence from opiates for significant periods. The duration of methadone maintenance can be for months or even years. Methadone reduction programs are suitable for addicted persons who wish to stop using drugs altogether. The length of the reduction programme will depend on the starting dose and speed of reduction, this varies from clinic to clinic and from person to person.’

  I was convinced that is what we needed to do. I had to find a nearby clinic to the house. Searching for a ‘methadone clinic near me.’ “Treatment Center of the Beaches’ was only ten minutes from the house, perfect. Skimming through their website, I found the dosing times, 5:30 a.m., initial consultations held at 7:00 a.m.

  Satisfied with my research, still having a million questions for the doctor, I sat down in the chair adjacent to Rachael so I could watch her sleep. The hesitated breathing continued, her body violently inflating and deflating, everything else remained lifeless. I couldn’t wait to wake her up and tell her the good news, I found us help for a new beginning. The mother of my child will soon be better. But what about the mother of my children, my wife?

  Grabbing my phone out of my damp pocket, I texted Megan seeing if she was still awake. I got an unexpected rapid response.

  Megan: You really didn’t come home?

  Kevin: You told me not to.

  Megan: Since when do you listen? What are you busy fucking your whore?

  Kevin: Not quite. You wouldn’t believe what I have been doing.

  Megan: Try me

  Megan: Don’t bother, I don’t know why I entertain you. I gave you the choice. You obviously chose what you really wanted.

  Kevin: Megan, stop it. I am working on it, I just can’t leave.

  A few minutes went by without a response.

  Kevin: Hello?

  Still no response. tossing my phone on the couch with apathy.

  Does Megan really expect me to just drop everything and come back to her? Just because she is ready to work on things doesn’t mean I am, look what is sleeping in front of me. No guy would want to give this up.

  I was unable to sleep, the anticipation of tomorrow keeping my brain buzzing. Rachael looking more amazing then ever as she slept.

  As the sun started to crack the horizon, I jumped out of my chair. Poking Rachael trying to get her out of her deep sleep. Still non-responsive I pushed her a little harder. Not getting anything, I shook her intensely. Her eyes slightly cracked open, she grumbled with a scratchy voice,

  “What Kevin?”

  “Get up, we are going somewhere,” acting like a child on Christmas.

  “It’s still dark outside, go to sleep.”

  “Get up or I am getting you up.”

  She let out a huge sigh, her eyes open but still droopy “Fine, I’ll go get dressed.” Shuffling her feet, barely being able to hold her head up, she walks into the bedroom. I hear a loud gag coming from the room as she runs out, “What the hell Kevin?”

  “Sorry, you vomited all over the bed. I had to clean it up. You can just go like that.”

  “Set the fucking room on fire why don’t you, jeez.”

  “Let’s go,” I said laughing.

  Driving towards the treatment center, the streets were still dark, the traffic was thin. The city still seemed like a ghost town, only a few people walking about. Rachael didn’t seem interested in conversation, still trying to wake herself up. She only asked one question on the way there.

  “Where are you taking me so early?”

  “It’s a surprise, I hope you like it.”

  Rolling her eyes annoyed, “Whatever.”

  Pulling into the parking lot, the building was oddly non descriptive. No signs on the blackened windows, the billboard out by the road simply read ‘Center.’ The parking lot filled with bicycles, hardly any cars. A line of people pushed out of the front door, wrapping around the corner of the pale yellow building.

  “What is this?” Rachael inquired.

  “It’s a rehab center, I want to get you help.”

  She didn’t respond, looking at me with those radiant sincere blue eyes, I see them starting to tear up as she let out a smile of joy. Reaching across the center console giving me a hug. Her tears smearing onto my face as I comfort her.

  “Lets get in line.”

  Last in line behind a zombie like population, everyone standing still slowly shuffling as the line progresses into the building. Some were hunched over, arms across they’re stomach, a few people stumbling over falling onto the hard pavement, funny but sad. These people were victims of their addiction, and needed a lot of help. I could tell Rachael was nervous, she couldn’t sit still, looking around constantly, she didn’t know what to do, just chain smoking her cigarettes. Finally inside the building, the musty smell resembling a high school locker room filled your nose. The lights were bright and offensive, no chairs, just a constant rotation of people coming, drinking a highlighter pink solution, then leaving. After an hour of waiting in line, speechless, taking in the disheartening sights, we stepped up to the front counter.

  “Name?” We were greeted abruptly and to the point.

  “She is a new patient.”

  “Okay, step in here please,” motioning towards a door off the right of her.


  Stepping inside, the room resembled much of a cheap therapist’s office. A worn down pleather couch, with rips and tears in it. A equally worn pleather chair directly across from it, a coffee table made out of particle wood and cheap veneers, a box of tissues resting on top of it. I guided Rachael to the couch to have her sit down, I remained standing.

  I wasn’t sitting on that.

  A few moments later an elder gentle walked through the door, wearing your typical white medical cover up on top of a dress shirt and tie.

  Looking down at a notepad as he approached his chair, “So how could we help you?”

  Rachael quickly looked at me like a lost child, not knowing what to do.

  “She has an issue with heroin, we would like help,” I quickly jumped in.

  “Okay, how much is she taking?”

  “Several grams a day, mixed with some pills.”

  Scribbling in his notepad, “And what pills are they?”

  “Xanax, Percocet, and an OC 60.”

  “Hmm, I see. And how long has this been going on?” He said in your typical monotone doctor voice.

  “She has had the problem for years. It has just gotten progressively worse, and we are looking to fix that,” I said with concern.

  Taking additional notes, “What’s your name ma’am?”

  “Rachael,” she responds barely audible.

  “And what’s your relationship to Mr...” looking over at me.

  “Barrick.”

  “He’s my boyfriend, soon to be husband,” she stated confidently.

  “Okay Rachael, Go into the next room, the nurse will set you up for a dose of Methadone. We just need to do a simple urine test before the initial dose to verify the drugs are present in your system. Mr. Barrick, please wait out front.”

  Rachael got up from her chair, nervous not knowing what to expect. As she left the room, I had to ask the doctor a few more questions.

  “Is it safe for the baby?”

  “Obviously it’s still a drug but yes it is. Instead of the stress of getting sick, withdrawing, injecting unknown cutting agents into you, it is the best alternative. The baby will come out needing a withdraw in a incubator but it should be fine.”

  “An incubator?”

  “Well the baby is going to be withdrawing from the heroin, or the methadone. It is just what happens.”

  How could I do this to a poor innocent child, having to put it through such a strenuous task it’s first day of living. ‘Welcome to the world, now go withdraw,’ what a schmuck.

  “What is your success story? What’s the best case scenario?”

  “Well,” a look of disappointment came over him, “not to discourage you but I have been doing this for 30 years and my best case was to get someone down to 15mg a day.”

  “That is your success?” I questioned in a discouraging tone.

  “Sadly. I have gotten people down to zero with proper counseling and support, however they may be clean for months, maybe a couple of years but they all usually relapse or come back for dosing, it’s a disease that can’t easily be shaken.” He stared at me for a few seconds before getting out of his chair and leaving the room.

  Standing in the main lobby waiting for Rachael to come out, I felt discouraged, not very optimistic about the situation. The doctor had no solid stories of recovery to encourage me. Rachael quickly emerged from the back office, a glint of happiness was in her eyes, an unfamiliar pep was in her step as she came to me, giving me a hug. Placing her arms on my shoulders, using her hands to force my head towards her giving me a kiss. She seemed ‘normal.’

  Taking us back to the house, she was sitting upright being very observant to her surroundings.

  “So how are you feeling?” I asked optimistically.

  “I have never felt so good! That stuff is amazing!”

  I looked at her and smiled in joy. Regardless of what the doctor said, I now had an overwhelming feeling of positivity about our road to recovery, to start our life. We pulled up to the house, she rushed to the front door, waving me on to hurry up. Standing in the foyer area, she signals me to wait there while she went towards the bedroom. My phone buzzed in my pocket,

  Megan: Should I be expecting you for Christmas?

  Kevin: Well that was unexpected. Wouldn’t miss it.

  Megan: The kids will be up early just to let you know. Don’t be too excited, I am only doing it for Amber.

  “Ohhh Kevin,” I hear Rachael calling me from inside the bedroom.

  Trotting over to the bedroom in excitement, standing in the doorway, Rachael was laying on the bed nude, only wearing thigh high leather boots zippered up the side, her legs slightly crossed. She handcuffed herself to the headboard, hands above her head.

  “Come take me, I am all yours.”

  Jumping into the bed on top her, biting her neck, placing my hands lightly on her breasts, caressing her nipples with the tips of my fingers. Rachael letting out staggered moans as I work my down her side, into her inner thighs. Biting softly, licking her, placing my hand on her vagina as a tease. Working my way back up her flat stomach, towards her tits.

  Biting her nipples with force, pulling them with my teeth, Rachael inhales sharply enjoying the pain and pleasure. Feeling her pull herself up with the handcuffs,

  “You weren’t suppose to move,” I corrected.

  “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically.

  Removing my belt, wrapping it snuggly against her ankle, securing it on the side rail of the bed frame.

  “Now you can’t move.”

  Laying my head down in between her legs, propping her free leg over my shoulder. Spreading her outer lips, revealing the soft moist interior, the smell coming from her was divine. Flicking her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, playing with her succulent interior, her back arching, feeling her pull on her restraints. Sticking my tongue fully into her hood, the taste resembled that of ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, pure heaven. Moving my tongue as fast I could to stimulate her, feeling her getting wetter, her thighs closing in on my face, as she climbs higher and higher to her climax. I reached up to fondle her tits, grabbing them firmly moving in a circular motion.

  Squirming in her restraints slightly rolling side to side as it became to much for her to handle. Sliding my middle finger slowly inside of her, her tight pussy resisting every push forward. Massaging her spongy soft interior, moving my middle finger in a come her movement, continuing to lick her clit furiously. Her moans becoming louder and more intoxicating on the ears.

  After several minutes of eating her out, I stand up next to her, slowly unbuttoning my shirt, “You’ve been a bad girl.” Unbuckling my pants, dropping them to the floor with my briefs, my boner springing straight forward. “Now your going to get it.”

  Standing on my knees on the bed in front of her face, grasping her head from behind, slowly moving her mouth around my dick. Rachael bit down with noticeable force just as I got the tip inside of her, forcing my to stop my forward progression. She faintly caressed my head with her tongue in a circular motion. The warmth of her tongue, the semi-coarse texture felt so right. The unbearable sensation she created caused me to moan uncontrollably.

  As the grip on me loosened, I proceeded to push her head into my pelvis, forcing my penis into her mouth and down the back of her throat. Slowly beginning to thrust myself into her, she slightly adjusted herself to get more comfortable, bobbing her head signaling me to go faster. Picking up my pace, feeling the saliva starting to build up around me acting as a lubricant, my heart pounding in my chest as I work myself harder and harder into her. Rachael letting out a sudden gag stopped my movements.

  “You okay?”

  “Is that all you got?” She mocked.

  Smirking, reaching on to the night table to grab the red stick candle out of its holder. Striking a match, lighting the candle. I let the wax start to pool at the top of the candle. Holding the candle high above her, I see her body tense as I slowly tilt the candle allowing a drop of w
ax to fall through the air, hitting her areola. Her body jolts, sucking her teeth.

  “Did you like that?”

  Biting her lip, she nods her head, “Again.”

  Letting the wax drip onto the same spot, her body arches practically lifting herself off the bed. Moving slowly down her body holding the candle a few inches away from her, dripping wax all the way down her stomach to her belly button. Extinguishing the flame with a quick blow, the smoke emitting a burnt scent filling the room briefly. Rolling Rachael over into the cross position, her left leg extended straight while her right is pushed up to a ninety degree angle. Her upper body twisted so I could see her face as she stared at me, her arms now crossed above her, still attached to the headboard.

  Giving her firm ass a substantial smack, a hand print immediately appearing on her flesh. Mounting her at an angle, I slowly glide myself inside of her. Her eyes opening wide as I stretch her vagina with my thick erect penis. Pounding her incessantly, she tilts her head back allowing me to stare in to her eyes as I dominated her.. He mouth open, moaning loudly, those stormy blue eyes piercing right through me. Rachael’s eyes slowly rolling into the back of her head, feeling her body tremble with every thrust of my waist, her fist clenching in her restraints as she came. Gasping for air as she reached higher and higher into her climax, the moans echoing throughout the house, finally letting out a big sigh as she finished.

  Slowing down, leaning down into her ear I whispered, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Smiling at me, she bit her lip, moaning in her throat. Untying her ankle from the sideboard I pulled her up onto her knees, her arms fully extended, being help up by the handcuffs, her body forming a perfect L. Grasping the two ends of my leather belt, forming a loop, smacking her ass softly several times.

  “Is that all you got Mr. Barrick?” Taunting me again.

  “Oh, you need more do you?” Cocking my arm back, swing the belt forward with extraordinary force.

  As the belt struck her ass, her entire body jumps forward, letting out a booming electrifying moan that could of broken glass.

  “Thank you sir. Can I have another?” Rachael requested in a satisfied tone.