Chris Arnade
Brenda: Hunts Point, Bronx
Brenda screamed as Michael jammed in the needle.
Heroin this way was new to her. For thirty years she has smoked or sniffed or swallowed her drugs, never injected them.
She was proud of this. It is what made her different, “My addiction is bad but I ain’t a shooter.”
She has always been the voice of reason amidst the chaos. She holds things together enough to cook meals and wash clothes. She doesn’t let shit happen to her. It’s why she stabbed an abusive husband.
Two weeks ago she was convinced to shoot heroin. She loved the immediate rush. She now spends all her time at Michael’s house. She is back to working the streets. She hasn’t cooked since.
She still can’t jam a needle into herself. Michael does that. Five seconds later she is unable to speak, hardly able to move, head frozen.
She tries to smoke crack but can’t. The movements are too hard.
Michael looks at her, “Brenda. We got to get out of this. We got to go to rehab.”
Brenda stares ahead unhearing and unmoving.
Brenda: Hunts Point, Bronx
Brenda screamed as Michael jammed in the needle.
Heroin this way was new to her. For thirty years she has smoked or sniffed or swallowed her drugs, never injected them.
She was proud of this. It is what made her different, “My addiction is bad but I ain’t a shooter.”
She has always been the voice of reason amidst the chaos. She holds things together enough to cook meals and wash clothes. She doesn’t let shit happen to her. It’s why she stabbed an abusive husband.
Two weeks ago she was convinced to shoot heroin. She loved the immediate rush. She now spends all her time at Michael’s house. She is back to working the streets. She hasn’t cooked since.
She still can’t jam a needle into herself. Michael does that. Five seconds later she is unable to speak, hardly able to move, head frozen.
She tries to smoke crack but can’t. The movements are too hard.
Michael looks at her, “Brenda. We got to get out of this. We got to go to rehab.”
Brenda stares ahead unhearing and unmoving.