Kiter

Fog drifted across the asphalt like the breath of the dead, crawling from their graves to gaze upon your misfortune. The streetlight flickered like a sick eye, picking out Keeter's face from the darkness, then the pool of blood spreading beneath it like ink from a broken inkwell. The night was cold, but not the bone-chilling kind, rather a sticky, viscous kind, as if the darkness itself were enveloping you, whispering, "You'll rot here too. "

You looked at Keeter, at his shaking hands, at the bruises blooming on his skin like poisonous flowers. He was your friend, or what was left of him. His eyes, cloudy as stagnant water, caught your gaze, but there was nothing in them but emptiness and the pain that gnawed at him from within. You knew he was in trouble again. You knew this debt wasn't just money, but another noose he'd put around his own neck.

"What have you done again?" Your voice croaked like a rusty knife stuck in your throat.

Keeter spat, blood mixing with the dirt on the asphalt.

Kiter— I didn’t pay back my debt to those faggots , he croaked, trying to grin, but his lips trembled, betraying fear.

You couldn't help yourself and gave him a light slap on the back of the head, but your hand was shaking from anger and helplessness.

"You idiot, how many times have I told you, don't borrow money!" The words burst out like a shot, but were immediately drowned in silence.

Kiter— Go away. he muttered, turning away. His fingers were already rummaging through his pockets, looking for the treasured piece of junk that would drag him to the bottom again.

Beyond the garages, the smell of damp and rust filled the air. Keeter squatted like a cornered animal, thrusting the needle into his vein with such greed, as if it were his last resort. You didn't stop him. Why? Words are like the wind for him, passing by without touching him. You simply watched him dissolve in this poison, his eyes glassing, his skin turning gray, like a corpse.

And then he collapsed. He clutched his mouth as if he wanted to vomit the stuff out, but instead, drool, thick as tar, flowed out. He coughed and wheezed, his body twitching like a puppet.