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Jessica Marie Baumgartner

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Art by Noelle Richardson 2015

My Fix


Jessica Marie Baumgartner



He said he was doctor. I don’t know why I believed him. I was already high, and he said he’d make me feel good. I figured all that medical training was safe.

What did I know? I was just another junkie looking for a fix.

The money had run out. I got what I could with my goods. It never bothered me. Men are so easy to manipulate. Give them a warm hole to penetrate and they’ll do whatever you want.

Life was simple, life was good. Sometimes I enjoyed a nice rub against someone more than the high. Not usually though.

Then he came and gave me another option. He didn’t want my body, not in the way most men did. He used big words, led me to believe he was on the verge of something unlike any kick I had ever experienced.

It sounded delicious.

I craved to test his concoction. The words he used to lure me were perfect. He meant them to be. They rolled off his tongue, pleased my ears.

“The seductive reaches of your innermost self will be explored. With this, every sensation you have experienced before will be merely a word. No high will gain you the satisfaction of my particular prescription.”

I was into it when seductive sounded from his mouth. He had a smooth voice, and a face to match, the kind of misleading appearance that gained unwarranted trust.

Everyone I had been hanging with always spoke to me as if I were stupid. I may have never gone to college but I finished high school. I enjoyed the privilege of allowing a man to speak to me with a higher vocabulary.

I wanted…I needed to take his drug. It seemed the only thing worth having at that moment.

Not once did I stop to concern myself with any side effects. I learned long ago never to care about anything. What was the point, when I could heighten myself with a little injection, or a soothing smoke?

I instantly held out my arm for him. The dust kicked up, and blew across my bruised skin as I offered flesh in that alleyway. A sadistic smile found its way to me through the shadows on his face. It grew wider as he slid the needle in and pumped the chemicals into my veins.

He waited, watching me long enough that I determined I had been duped.

“That’s it?” I stood disappointed.

My anger mounted. My body lacked the intended thrill. But there was nothing I could do. I had not paid him anything, and it’s not like there were “high” police to prosecute sellers who did not deliver what was promised.

“This is shit,” I spat at him.

He didn’t waiver. His eyes locked on my movements, my posture, as if he were observing me on purpose.

I hit him.

The corners of his mouth curved sharply. His body; his face were enticing enough that I wondered if he gave me a bad dose since I had not offered him anything. There was one jackass who had tricked me in a similar way just for a laugh once.

With a lack of wits I thought I could get better from him. I pulled my stained tank top over my head and rubbed my breasts against him. I used to complain how big they were. My body is not large enough to handle the strain.

I found myself thankful for them then. “You make me feel good, I’ll make you feel good.”

This seemed to work better than anger. He groped me for a moment and then pushed me away. I refused to give up. I grabbed his crotch, and started to rub once I found his cock, but then the pain took over.

Instantly, every part of my body felt as if it were engaged in a battle to rip itself apart. I had never imagined any such pain, and I had lived through giving birth to a stillborn near a trashcan months back.

The doctor guy said something but I couldn’t hear him. My ears had become useless. Before the loss of eyesight took over, I looked to my hands and watched as the skin turned red and purple. The entire area swelled as one big blood blister.

My vision went black, and I could feel my skin start tearing, the rush of blood pouring out.

How much longer could I survive? I didn’t care. Death would be a change.

And then I did die. Well, I thought so.

Another stupid junkie killed by a bad trip, right? Wrong.

That bastard has somehow kept me alive. It’s unbelievable how much the human body can withstand.

I have no fear of addiction. It’s what has kept me going. My body craves a substance that will kill me someday. Not like the other stuff. This shit will kill me after one use if he doesn’t bring me down with a dose of his neutralizer. It’s what brought me back the first time.

I need it, I want it. I am afraid of it, but I don’t care. The after effects are worth the pain. Being brought back is a sensation that every human should experience.

I’ve gathered enough from my surroundings to know that I’m some sort of test subject. The doctor seems to be experimenting with a highly effective weapon. Maybe he works for the government. Maybe he does it for his own twisted reasons.

I don’t care. As much as I hate him, I love him. He gives my body medicine to heal in between. He knows what to do. He feeds me, actual food, the good stuff, and meds that I could never afford.

I see it as a win/win.

I’m his test subject, his toy to play with, and in return he gives me that feeling. Oh, the joy of being pulled back from the darkness of death while the antidote takes away all the pain and starts the healing process.

He thinks I’m crazy. I know I am. Who cares? It’s my body, right?

Before, I was just a lay, a stupid crack whore hoping to find my next cash out. Now I’m aiding science. I’m the one that matters here. Now I have purpose.

I’ll hold out until my body’s done. Some may think me a prisoner. I can leave whenever I want, but then I’d have to leave my fix behind.



The End

Art by W. Jack Savage 2015

Jessica Baumgartner is a staff member of Quantum Muse, where her stories have been featured, in addition to having pieces published by Hellfire Crossroads, Walrus Publishing, and others. She is to have a tale in issue #61 of Blood Moon Rising Magazine, and her Paranormal Romance novelette, Tale of Two Bookends, was released on April 15th, 2015.

In Association with Fossil Publications