Opium.
There is an art to smoking it, to twisting the drab brown ball of paste over the flame of a single candle. The consistency must be right, the temperature just so, to turn the pea-sized dab of bliss into caramel-colored delight. If done correctly, you can almost see the wings of the Red Dragon expand as you spread the sticky threads across the bowl of the pipe. And then there is the proper balance of breath, the repetition of inhale and exhale to expand one’s lungs just so, so that the first acrid twist of smoke fills every inch of your being.
And then… bliss.
There is no pain. There is no fear. There is only the euphoria of oblivion.
How I loved those languid years of nothingness. How I even loved the feel of Anthony Aprile's skin against my own, the way I could open to his body without feeling the horrible pain as he nearly ripped me in two during our unions. The pain was still there, of course, a nattering annoyance in the back of my mind. But with the aid of my Dragon, I could ignore it and bend as Anthony wished. He could rape me to his heart's delight and I wouldn't protest.
It was a win-win situation if you looked at it right. Anthony got his desires fulfilled and went back to his proper Catholic wife, and I earned protection for my girls. If that bastard was satisfied with me, he wouldn't turn his attentions to the others. And I would heal... eventually. I always did.
And I had my Dragon to help me.
It was the year that my opium addiction reached its height—meaning I chased the Dragon more than six times a day—was the year that Timothy Speedle of the of the once-prominant Speedle Family saved my life...
- Music:Someday I'll fly away... Nicole Kidman
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adelle_sevilla- adelle_sevilla
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