"Man, that was too fucking close."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash. As he counted the bills, what he had just done struck him with adrenaline fueled clarity. He had broken into the store, knifed the clerk and sacked the till, and for what? 30 bucks?. He had crossed the line, or more precisely run screaming and yelling past it for about a mile before taking a look around.
His body told him to run, to succumb to the most primal of all instincts. To flee.
And so he ran, his heart thudding in his chest, disregarding his previous exhaustion. His mind raced as frantically as his body, seeking answers through the panic-ridden haze his thoughts had become. "I killed someone! I friggin killed someone! What the goddamn hell was I thinking?"
Even as he asked this question, the answer came to him.
" I needed it. "
All questions, of morality, or otherwise, resolved themselves. He had needed it, that was all. All that really mattered anyway. With that, he stopped running, and caught his breath. He turned, and moved with strides purposeful, no longer panicked.
He knew where he had to go now.
----An eternity later----
He leaned back. and blew out. The smoke rushed from his lungs and he smiled through the haze that ecstasy could not begin to describe. He looked at the emptied syringe lying next to his hand.
He kept on looking. He raised his hands in front of his face, and the sight and sound of dried blood suddenly rushed at him. His chest seized, and out of the mire a thought came to him.
"Was it worth it?"
And just like that, the blood staining his hands disappeared, and he relaxed as the high took over once more, stealing away whatever chance he had.
Through the slur of his thoughts, just one emerged, and crystallized, as clear as day.
He raised the cigarette to his lips and breathed in once more.