When did he get to that point?
Impulsive. Reckless. An Addict.
“Hey baby, you done?” The women who had sold him the brimstone leaned casually against the wall, lines of white powder smeared on the basin, her skirt so short her lace thong peeked from beneath the fabric. “Or did you need something else?”
Self-loathing burned, even more so when he looked into the grimy mirror to find his pupils blown wide. “No,” he grumbled, flinching when she reached over to touch his shoulder.
“Are you sure?” she purred. “We don’t usually get people who look like you in here.”
The shit he had just injected was weak, cheap. He needed his own stuff, brimstone carefully mixed with valerian root, fentanyl, and any other herbs he had to hand. He didn’t even need relief, and he already knew the shit he had just taken wouldn’t have helped any of his pain. He had taken it because it was all he could think about, that and Sam. But it wasn’t like he could hunt Sam down and take out his needs on him.
Take his anger out at breaking his celibacy on him.
“I won’t even charge you.”
Even high he would have had no problem denying her request. The door to the bathroom opened with a creak, the corridor dark as he turned the corner to the main floor. Even so early in the morning there were people dancing, twisting their bodies around poles while an audience watched. The men and women may have been beautiful once, but they weren’t anymore. Sores, inflamed veins and blackened palms; Track marks visible even beneath the poor lighting, the dancers trapped by their own dependences.
Axel was aware that if he didn’t have glyphs tattooed, he would probably look the same. His skin would be scarred and broken, a visible reminder of his weakness. Maybe that was what he needed, rather than his body healing the needle marks instantly.
Ignoring the glares from the bouncer, Axel stepped out into the early morning sunshine, squinting his eyes as he began his walk towards Chinatown. That was where he was supposed to be, where he intended to go, before he found himself standing in front of ‘Paradise Strip.’ It was as if he was pulled there by a force, his beast scolding him as he made his way inside. The fact his beast communicated should have broken through his compulsion, but instead it made his need to self-sabotage worse.
An angry huff, pressure at the back of his mind.
Shut up,he growled in reply.
The walk was bitter, and it wasn’t long before the quietness of the morning was disrupted by busy commuters. Agitation made him impatient as he followed the red lanterns hung high across the buildings. Familiar scents and colours should have been calming, and yet, as he found himself in front of his childhood home, all he felt was shame.
Laolao wasn’t directly his blood, connected only by being Titus’s maternal grandmother, but that had meant nothing when Axel had found his father dead, and Titus his only remaining family. Having already taken guardianship over Titus from a young age, she opened her arms for Axel too, and he would always adore her for not letting him go into the system. She owed him nothing, the nephew of the son-in-law she despised, and still she welcomed him as if he were her own.
He could already envision her disappointment for the drugs that coursed through his veins, or the ones that burned a hole in his pocket. Could imagine the conversation, how she would blame herself for his poor choices.
Axel paused, staring at the worn, red paint of the door as he debated whether to press the bell or not.
Laolao’s flat was above a bakery, and a place he ate at frequently as a boy. Both Axel and Titus had offered to buy her somewhere else, a place where at eighty-nine she didn’t have to climb so many stairs every day, but she’d refused with a stern warning each time. She’d always explained she’d met her husband only a street away in the main market of Chinatown, and they’d lived in that flat for over fifty-years before he’d succumbed to his old age.
“Are you going to see that old-bat or not?” a familiar voice said from behind. “I assumed she was dead by now. Humans have such disappointing lifespans.”
Axel closed his eyes, breathing through his nose before he turned to face the beautiful woman who stood across the street. She was almost as tall as he was, with curvy hips and slim legs most models would kill for. Her dark brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, thick lips ticked up in a smirk.
Of course she was here,he thought.Like a fucking bloodhound.
“Well?” she said when he remained silent. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”
“What are you doing here, Thallia?” he grunted, stepping down and away from the door. If Laolao saw his mother here she would beat her with a pan.
Thallia pursed her lips, and a man passing seemed to trip over air at just the sight of her.
Axel couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes.
“I’ve come to check on my son,” she said, her tone a touch harsher. “That’s what a mother does.”
Axel’s laugh was humourless. “It’s been five years, and the last time you turned up without notice all you cared about was money.”
Purple eyes hardened, but he remained where he was as she crossed the street and stroked her hand down his cheek. “You’ve grown into such a handsome man, so much like your father.” Bitterness edged the end of her sentence.
“It’s been five –”
“You know how it’s like in Asherah,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Time runs differently. For you it was five years, for me it was a matter of months. You have no idea how hard it’s been to come back since the doorway’s been closed.”
