The Addict
I never understood the need to chase a high until the first time I put a needle in a vein. The thrill of puncturing skin, followed by the blood pooling so close to my fingertips, was intoxicating. I stare at the knife in my hand, now crimson stained, reflecting on my questionable choices. Gradually, my eyes venture back to the body at my feet. Even with the fresh wounds still seeping, the high is already fading. I did this too quickly again. I step around the blood on the ground to unlatch the cellar door, the stench of decay permeating the air around the opening. As I slowly drag the new body toward the cellar, I’ve already begun to plan my next thrill. There is absolutely nothing that matches the ecstasy of feeling a blade pierce through flesh. I need it, that feeling of euphoria that surfaces with every puncture. I need that high. And I can’t stop.