The Futility of Addiction By Ryan Doyle
The sun was beckoning over the horizon as the two best friends walked along the shoulder of what appeared to be a never ending sea of concrete stretching into the distance. One of the men had thick grimy dreadlocks swaying over his face as he walked. His white singlet was stained yellow and was barely staying on his skeletal frame. The other man’s head was shaved and covered in sores and battle scars from his many altercations in recent years. Their eyes were bloodshot and beaming; it was the morning of the fourth day since they began their most recent journey of substance abuse. They were both completely consumed in their psychotic state of mind, seemingly unaware of their surroundings, where they were going, or what their purpose was. Aside from their edgy and irrational conversation there was an eerie silence on what is normally a bustling stretch of freeway.

The dreadlocked man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass cylindrical pipe that was stained yellow from its countless abuse. As he put it to his mouth and sparked the lighter it gleamed in the sun immediately getting the attention of his comrade by which he had shared this experience with so many times before. As the shaved head man watched him put the flame to the glass it began to glow and his eyes lit up as if his life depended on inhaling that smoke and nothing else mattered, like it was his only reason for being.

As the man brushed his soiled deadlocks away from his face he continued to put the flame to the glass and deeply inhale, suddenly his eyes widened and his whole body become rigid as if someone had given him a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart. The look of exhilaration on his face was short lived as the pipe slipped out of his hand in what seemed to be slow motion. They both instinctively lunged forward to save their salvation; the pipe fell to the ground, smashing like a light bulb. They both stood there in shock, the look of anger on the dreadlocked man’s face as he stared accusingly at his friend. The shaved head man stood their scratching his blemished scalp, his stiff upper lip quivering and his eyes closed tightly in despair. His hope was crushed as he realised he won’t get the next hit he desperately needs and that the pain will soon set in.

As they stood there looking at each other in a sea of dramatic emotion and confusion, the dreadlocked man, suddenly in a fit of rage lunged at his friend, desperately overpowering him. The shaved head man was shocked, tilting back and raising his hands frantically to protect his face from an anticipated fist. He could not deflect the onslaught as his almost superhuman strength overpowered him, like a rabid dog he bit into his eyebrow and eye socket chewing off a chunk of flesh and spitting it out onto the footpath, the shaved head man lost his footing and fell back with a hard thud, as the dead weight of his head hit the concrete footpath he immediately blacked out, his body becoming limp and lifeless. The dreadlocked man knelt over him unaffected by his friend’s unresponsive state and continued to devour the side of his face in his state of drug-induced cannibalism as if he was as reliant on human flesh as the chemicals he had just consumed.

In the distance sirens began to blare, it was the only sound that could be heard over the vicious and animalistic grunts of a man that had taken a degenerative downward spiral since his dependency took a hold of him. As the sirens’ drew nearer the man took no notice of what was about to happen and continued to devour the man’s face. His dreadlocks shook as he violently ripped off pieces of flesh chewing and spitting out raw meat.

The first patrol car pulled up cautiously as if the officers were confused and didn’t believe the eye-witness accounts that had just been reported. As they got out of their vehicle and advanced towards the two men they realised the reports were accurate. They looked on in absolute horror not believing what they were seeing. There were a few moments of hesitation as they froze in shock then both drew their charged plastic weapons and instructed the man to lay face down on the ground. The dreadlocked man looked up for a second blood dripping down his face with a crazed look in his eyes like a predator devouring its prey. He disregarded their demands and continued to tear pieces off his friends face.

One of the officers then let off a charge into his torso jolting him for a second, but he was unaffected by the shock running through his body, only making him more vicious as he continued to bite chunks off the man’s cheek bone. The second officer then let off another charge into the man’s shoulder making him twitch and arch his back for a few seconds. Then he looked up and acknowledged the officers but continued to consume the raw flesh.

The officers were frantically yelling into their radios describing what they were witnessing in a desperate plea for assistance. Another patrol car skidded to a screeching halt and both officers jumped out, as they drew their weapons, the steel gleamed in the morning sunlight.
As they advanced on the two men, out of complete shock one of the officers fired two shots into his back. Once again, the dreadlocked man turned around for a moment but seemed unaffected by what was just inflicted upon him as if he was invincible. The other officer stepped forward once again demanding that the man get off him and lay face down, with no response he then let off one shot into the back of his head, blood splattering over the concrete pavement, and finally his body fell limp over his mutilated friend. Then there was silence.