Kate shot me up and I filled up with that beautiful feeling. I hated her. I shot her up and lifted her onto the bed. I wanted to stuff my hand down her neck and pull out her heart. I stuffed my hand in her warm mouth. I hated myself. Last time we were together, she’d stolen everything and I’d ended up in jail from a pharmacy job, and two months later, I’d shaken down to my soul in my cell so hard I bit my H scars. The next morning, before I threw her out, I tore my money from her heart and bought enough to keep myself happy for a while.