Requiem for a Dream

The television was still on, but Marion wasnt still sitting on the couch. She was in the bathroom, bathing her arms in hot water, rubbing them hard and then spi

ing them around, trying desperately to get a vein up so she could shoot up another goof ball. She was shaking, crying, and dizzy with frustration and cursing Harry for not being there with the dope and she tried to tie up her left arm but couldnt seem to do that right or anything else and she grabbed her head, Oooooooooooo, then started hitting herself on the head, and then tried to sit on the edge of the tub and slid off and ended up on the floor and beat the floor with her hands, sobbing with rage. She didnt hear Harry open the door or come in. Whatta ya doin? She looked for a second, then yanked herself up, Where have you been? Ive been waiting all day—Where the hell ya—and I cant stand this any—You cant stand— more, Marion was trembling and could hardly speak, do you hear me? and I want something here in the morning—What the fucks wrong with—do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU HEAR ME? Marions eyes were wide and she grabbed Harry by the coat and was shaking him, Im not going to bed until theres a morning shot, I cant stand it, I cant stand this being sick and waiting— Ya think Im playin fuckin games for krists sake, grabbing her and holding her by the arms until she stopped, you want to be sure we have some extra stuff, we were hipped to a dude thats holding some weight, but he aint sellin. Marion stared at Harry the way she stared at the television set, eyes wide, not believing but waiting to hear more, her hysteria keeping her from fainting and giving her the energy needed to stand stiff. Her mouth opened. He likes broads. Marion continued to stare. You worried so goddamn much I/ll fix you up withim. Her mouth closed. You wont have to wait so long… and I wont have ta freeze my fuckin ass off in the fuckin streets, Harry spun away and started yanking his coat and sweater off and tossed them on the couch then sat at the table and unwrapped the bundle of stuff. Marion watched for a few seconds, then blinked her eyes and started walking toward him, then stopped as he got up, and went back to the bathroom. Think you can get a hit? She nodded and started to tie up, then Harry shook his head, Krist, are you fucked up, then tied her up and rubbed her arm a few times and a couple of good veins came up, There. He dumped the stuff in the cooker and they both got off. Marion had no idea how frozenly stiff her face and body had been until the dope warmed it and they started to relax. They dropped their works in the glass of water and sat back on the tub for a moment, Harry letting the dope shove out the memory of the frigid streets, and Marion feeling the sense of security coming back that she longed for. She leaned against Harry, I dont know what happened, its just that its getting worse and worse, I dont know whats happening, but I feel like Im going out of my mind. Yeah, I know. Its a bitch. What can I tellya, itll break sooner or later. It cant stay like this forever. She stared ahead and nodded, Its just that I cant stand being like this. But youre not that sick. Im not shootin any more stuff than you and— Its different for you. Marion shook her head, I… I… I dont know why it is but it is. I cant stand not having enough in the house, I just cant, her voice softer, quietly hysterical, Harry rubbing the back of his neck. She moved, still staring straight ahead, and got up, Comeon. Harry stashed the stuff then they sat at the table drinking soda. How much do we have? Enough for a couple of days. Cant we just keep it all? Jesus Marion, we/ve been through this routine a dozen fuckin times. We have to off some stuff. That is how we get the bread for more. Marion nodded, the panic gone, but the concern still strong. She alternated looking at her glass and at Harry, her expression flat, I understand Harry. I just… I just… She shrugged and stared at him for a few moments, then lowered her eyes and looked at her glass. Theres a panic and thats the way it is now. What can I tell you. Marion looked at him again and nodded, blinked her eyes a few times and continued to look as understandingly and reassuringly as possible. She studied her cigarette for a moment then looked at her glass as she spoke to Harry, You sure this guy wont sell any? What guy? The guy you said had some but wouldnt sell. Oh the guy thats hooked on broads. Marion nodded still looking at her glass, raising her eyes slightly from time to time. Positive. Why, you have something in mind? Marion continued to look at her cup and toy with her cigarette, I/d like to have more than just a days stuff Harry, I cant make it like this… Suppose what he has doesnt last long???? Harry shrugged, trying to ignore the action in his gut, but even the dope wouldnt allow him to ignore it, but it did allow him to believe whatever he had to believe. He wanted to say something, but couldnt find the means to put the words together even if he could find the words. He just continued to go along with what was happening, go with the flow as Marion would say. With whats happening he could be no where anytime too. Marion rubbed her cigarette around in the ashtray, cleaning off the bottom with her butt and pushing the ashes to the side, Maybe we should look into it right away. Harry took another drag on his cigarette and shrugged, If you want to. She continued with the butt in the ashtray, nodded her head and murmured. Yes. A little voice inside Harry said, Thank krist.

Sara went passively to her first shock treatment. She had no idea where she was going, having only a vague idea where she was. There were a few times during the day when she seemed to be on the verge of orienting herself and experiencing a degree of mental and emotional clarity, but then she was given another dose of Thorazine and the cloud of numbness once again descended and enshrouded her, and her limbs became heavy and an unbearable burden, and the pit of her stomach burned and ached with exhaustion, and her tongue was so thick and dry it stuck to the roof of her mouth, and attempting to speak was an unbearably painful ordeal, and she would strain to try to formulate words, but she couldnt summon the energy necessary to unglue and move her tongue; and her eyes felt like two huge thumbs were pressing down on them and she had to lift her head back to see, and then it was as if she was looking through a veil that made everything hazy, and so she would just lie in bed numbed, confused, nodding off to sleep… then waking periodically and sleeping again… constantly feeling sick and, from time to time, struggling to sit up, but unable to, and so they would lift her up and put some food in her mouth and it would dribble out of the corners because she just couldnt swallow, and she would try to tell them to stop, to let her do it, but she couldnt speak because of drug induced inertia, and so her words came out groans and they grabbed her and forced the food down her throat, holding her nose and keeping her mouth closed, forcing her to swallow, Saras eyes being forced open with terror, mute terror, while inside her heart beat thunderously in her ears and thudded against her chest, and she was unable to even mutter a prayer for help and the more she tried to tell them not to do that the more a

oyed they became and they shoved the food in her mouth, cutting the corners of her mouth and her gums, them slamming their hands over her mouth and nose and Sara would feel, again and again, like she was suffocating and she tried to swallow as fast as possible but her system just didnt seem to have the energy it needed to swallow, and she fought to get the food down so she could breathe, and the harder she fought the harder they pressed against her, and held her down in the bed until they finally left in disgust, and Sara tried to curl up in a little ball and disappear, and after a couple of days she cringed in abject terror when she heard the food truck approaching.