The Speed of Pain by Caspar Ambrose (classic books for 11 year olds TXT) 📕

A quick prick was all that Johnny felt as the needle pierced his upper arm.

After that, it was pure ecstasy as the heroin flowed through his veins and the faded feeling of floating through the world took hold. It was exactly what he needed. Right before one of the biggest shows he would put on in his life, in front of well over a hundred thousand people, he needed just that little bit of relaxation the drug brought about.

His band mates had already left the tiny green room that had been designated for them. They were roaming around somewhere backstage, mingling with the opening bands. But he had decided to stay behind and stick a little junk in before show time. Not the first time this had happened. Probably not the last either.

It wasn’t as if he had to get up for the nine to five in the morning.

Just front one of the biggest bands in the world for a sold out show. And in the grand scheme of things, with how much money he was making, that was nothing.

What he wanted to chill his mind out from, however, was the tiny details of his life that seemed to grind on him like a cog that hadn't been oiled in far too long. The everyday happenings like dealing with his manager, all the people trying to get money from him, and balancing the road life with his home life. And heroin was always the perfect tool for the job.

Johnny worked the plunger on the syringe and milked the blood in and out as he pushed the remaining amount of the drug into his veins. After this, he pulled out the needle and fell backward on the couch. His head was clouded now and all of his problems faded into the back of his brain as nothingness was pushed to the front. He was ready for the show.

After about five minutes of sitting back and nodding in and out of oblivion, however, a noise began to disrupt the silence in the green room.

It took Johnny a moment to realize that it was a ringing noise. And another moment to realize that it was his cell phone which was sitting on the table right next to the now used needle. His movements were slow as he reached out and picked up the flip phone. He didn’t like to keep the newest technology, instead preferring to keep things simple. After grabbing the phone, he flipped it open and, without saying anything, waited for whoever was calling to speak.

“John,” a woman's voice came through.

He didn’t answer immediately. Partially because his head was still reeling from the junk and he couldn’t concentrate. And partly because he couldn’t immediately figure out who was on the other end of the line. Though he recognized the voice as someone very familiar, the face and name weren’t coming to mind.

“John, it’s Macy,” the voice persisted. “Are you free for a moment?”

Shit. It was his longtime girlfriend. How could he forget that? John shook his head and tried to clear his brain for a conversation. He didn’t want her to know that he was high.

“Babe,” he replied. His voice groggy. “What’s up? I’m free for a bit before we go on stage.”

“I know you’re high John,” she said. “It’s the only time you take so long to respond.”

“No, no,” he tried to backpedal. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day rehearsing.”

“Don’t lie to me John,” she said. “We’ve been doing this for too long now for you to lie to me.I know you’re high and that’s why I’m calling.”

“Okay what about it then,” he was aggravated now. “What do you want?”

“John,” she paused after his name. “John I’m leaving you. I can’t do this anymore with all the lies and all the drugs.”

“What are you talking about?”, a second wave was hitting him. He could see shadows and other things in his peripheral vision. But he was trying his best to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “Where are you going?”

“I’m at the airport right now John,” she said, beginning to cry. “You’ve promised me for over a year and a half now that you are going to clean up. You’ve promised all of your friends and family that you were going to get your life back together. And for a year and a half you’ve lied and kept shooting that junk into your body. I won’t stand by and support it anymore.”

“Bitch,” he was agitated now. The heroin was clouding his mind and he was getting angry about everything. “You didn’t seem to give a shit when you fucked my drummer last year.”

“You're right John,” she was crying harder now. “I did cheat with Martin. But I’ve come to terms with my mistakes. I’ve come to terms with how I’ve treated you, even when you’ve always been so good to me. And that’s exactly why I’m leaving. It’s time that you started being good to yourself. You need help John. And I realize now it’s going to take more than me to give you that help you need. Please understand.”

“Right before the biggest show of my life,” he said. “Right before we get to the next level of music you do this shit. You’re horrible.”

“I’m so sorry John,” her voice was faint. In the background John heard what sounded like planes taking off and landing. “I’m at the airport right now. I won’t tell you where I’m going. Maybe one day we can make this work out. But right now we are poison to each other. I just can’t keep doing this any longer.”

He didn’t say anything else. Partially because the second wave had come on strong. He might have taken a little too much. But no big deal, it wasn’t the first time he had overdone it and he knew that if he just kept awake and powered through it he would be good in a few hours. But he also didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. His thoughts were to clouded from drugs and anger to say anything rational, so he just didn’t speak.

“John,” Macy said. “John say something to me. I don’t want this to end on a worse note than it has to.”

Nothing came out. He just kept quiet.

“John,” desperation crept into her voice.

“John, say something,” she persisted.

Finally he just let the phone drop from his hands and fall to the floor. Nothing good was going to come from this. And he wanted his head to be in the right place before the show. He owed it to his band mates. Even that piece of shit Martin who the music company refused to replace even though he had insisted after he had found out Macy had been fucking him. As the lead singer he had to bring the energy. And to bring the energy he had to be in the right mindset.

He just sat there trying to work through everything in his head. For about ten minutes he sat there until the door to the green room opened and his three band mates walked in.

“Yo Johnny it’s time to get out there,” Frank, his lead guitarist said. “Let’s blow the roof off of this place!”

“Ya just give me a minute,” Johnny responded.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of cocaine. Then he laid out a fat rail of the fine powder on the table and rolled a bill from his pocket to snort it with. After taking the powder into his nose, he felt balanced. The heroin and cocaine bringing him to a strange equilibrium.

“Alright let’s do this,” he said and got up from the couch. He grabbed his leather jacket, his favorite one to wear while on stage, and put it on. Then with his band mates in tow, walked out of the green room and headed down the hallway towards the stage.

As they were going down the hall he could hear the roar from the crowd growing louder and louder. The lead singer from The Empire, the middle band, was finishing out and introducing them to the stage. And just like that they were ready to go. Walking out like the rock stars they were meant to be to the roar of a hundred thousand people. The energy was growing in the auditorium. And Johnny knew it was going to be a kick ass show. He just had to hold onto the balance.

Johnny gave a high five to the lead singer of Empire as the man walked past him and off the stage.

“Kill it tonight man,” the singer said to Johnny and then disappeared to stage left.

Johnny took his place behind the microphone as the rest of the band was taking their place. After  a minute every one was ready to go. Johnny took a moment to look around and take in the crowd. The energy was just right for the night. And after a quick few taps from the drummer, the lead guitar slammed down and launched into the first song.

Johnny was about to start singing when a trickle came down his face. At first he thought it was sweat, but then he could taste that it was blood. At that moment his breathing was becoming more shallow and more spaced out. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe every second. The rest of the band kept playing, probably wondering why he hadn’t started singing yet. But he knew something was wrong. Slowly his legs began to give out. He tried to grab onto the mic stand but it didn’t support him, just came crashing down as his body hit the ground. The music stopped as his band mates rushed over to him.

“What’s wrong Johnny?” Frank said as he knelt down by Johnny’s side.

“Shit,” Martin said. “I think he’s OD’d.”

“We need a paramedic,” Torch, the bass player for the band screamed. “We need a paramedic right fucking now.”

“Just hold on Johnny we’ve got you,” Frank was saying into his ear.

Johnny could barely hear any of them. He was fading in and out of consciousness as murmurs began to spread through the crowd. Some people in the back were still cheering but the people in the front had changed their tone.

“Stay with us Johnny,” Martin said. “Just hang in there we’ll get you out of here.”

He was still unresponsive however, and his breathing was becoming more and more difficult. His whole body felt clammy and sweaty and all he could think about was Macy and the conversation he had with her in the green room. Finally he managed to get some words out of his mouth.

“Not...her...fault,” he gasped out, struggling to breathe.

“What’s that Johnny?” Frank said.

“She….needs….to….know,” Johnny gasped. “She needs to….understand….not….her….fault.”

“What are you saying Johnny,” Frank was desperate now. “Where the fuck is the paramedic. We need a fucking paramedic.”

At that moment three paramedics rushed out to the stage with a stretcher and began working. Johnny though was losing life by the second. The whole crowd was now in panic mode. But Johnny couldn’t hear any of this.

“Macy,” he gasped out one final time.

And then it was over.

Blackness.