Just Muse Me - Taste It
Dabble with drugs
When Roman talked about drugs, twitchy muscles and the taste in the back of the throat Charlie had watched it hit his partner. He knew that she was reliving every hit, every line she had ever done and it had hurt her. He slammed his hand on the table, broke the spell Roman had over Reese and moved things along but his partner had never seen the recognition and understanding in his own eyes.
He had done drugs while inside, pot, ecstasy and once some pot laced with something that he thought might have been heroin or LSD. Those first three years he had been looking for any escape he could find and drugs seemed to be the best way to do it. The problem was pot had made him really paranoid, violently paranoid. He hadn’t relaxed but drawn tighter and snapped, ending up in the hospital after a fight.
Ecstasy hadn’t been that bad actually. It really made him relax and loving, which wasn’t good in prison when there were a lot of people gunning for you. Still, he thought he might have done more but it was hard to find inside. There just wasn’t a big market for it. The money was in heroin and cocaine, drugs that had scared him. The price for them was too high and the addicts he met inside were too… inhuman to make those hard drugs appealing. By the time he went into solitary he had Zen and didn’t need drugs anymore.
Maybe he should have told Reese instead of talking about shooting Roman but back then he’d known that she wouldn’t want to hear about it. She wouldn’t want to bond over stories of drug use. She hadn’t wanted to bond at all. He had sat there in the passenger seat, looking out the window as LA rolled past and remembered his own drug use, short lived as it was and wonder why he hadn’t fallen down the same dark pit Reese had.
He didn’t think it was a matter of strength. Reese was strong too. Maybe it was a matter of choice. Drugs didn’t really give him an escape from prison. They didn’t make being innocent and wrongly convicted easier on him. They made it worse. The only real escape had been in his mind, retreating farther and farther into himself. Drugs had made everything too real.
He still tasted it though, like prison, he could still taste the drugs.
When Roman talked about drugs, twitchy muscles and the taste in the back of the throat Charlie had watched it hit his partner. He knew that she was reliving every hit, every line she had ever done and it had hurt her. He slammed his hand on the table, broke the spell Roman had over Reese and moved things along but his partner had never seen the recognition and understanding in his own eyes.
He had done drugs while inside, pot, ecstasy and once some pot laced with something that he thought might have been heroin or LSD. Those first three years he had been looking for any escape he could find and drugs seemed to be the best way to do it. The problem was pot had made him really paranoid, violently paranoid. He hadn’t relaxed but drawn tighter and snapped, ending up in the hospital after a fight.
Ecstasy hadn’t been that bad actually. It really made him relax and loving, which wasn’t good in prison when there were a lot of people gunning for you. Still, he thought he might have done more but it was hard to find inside. There just wasn’t a big market for it. The money was in heroin and cocaine, drugs that had scared him. The price for them was too high and the addicts he met inside were too… inhuman to make those hard drugs appealing. By the time he went into solitary he had Zen and didn’t need drugs anymore.
Maybe he should have told Reese instead of talking about shooting Roman but back then he’d known that she wouldn’t want to hear about it. She wouldn’t want to bond over stories of drug use. She hadn’t wanted to bond at all. He had sat there in the passenger seat, looking out the window as LA rolled past and remembered his own drug use, short lived as it was and wonder why he hadn’t fallen down the same dark pit Reese had.
He didn’t think it was a matter of strength. Reese was strong too. Maybe it was a matter of choice. Drugs didn’t really give him an escape from prison. They didn’t make being innocent and wrongly convicted easier on him. They made it worse. The only real escape had been in his mind, retreating farther and farther into himself. Drugs had made everything too real.
He still tasted it though, like prison, he could still taste the drugs.