by Marie Davis and Margaret Hultz.
Everyday Eve poured her soul into a bottle, and when the bottle stopped working she poured her soul into a needle—everyday.
Push and pull and push—you push two times with a needle—a needle of heroin. Flick the needle’s end twice and then once again for good luck. Push bliss into your vein, pull back a plunger of blood—oozing deep red promises—then push again, one more glorious time.
Just like the push and pull of the syringe, heroin pushed Eve into an away place and then pulled her back for more. One last time, the pull urges and then again, just one last time. Sinful trails of track marks ran across her arms, legs and neck, even between her ten tiny toes. Skin is such a nasty tattletale, forever snitching on the push and the pull.
Eve ran her fingers through Samantha’s golden hair. Yanking the needle from her vein Samantha mumbled, “Baby doll, you still love me don’t you?”
Eve muttered between her clenched teeth twisting the tourniquet tight. “Sugar plum, I’m savin’ all my lovin’ for you—lovin’ for my teeny weeny black balloons and you. Girls are evil, angel face. Girls spread their fickle legs and lying lips. Both of ‘em will swallow you whole. My sweet, sweet honey bear—you’re the only one who’s true. That’s what happened—I loved my sugar dumpling and she loved me back. Didn’t you pumpkin?”
Samantha’s lips locked into a slippery smile, her blue eyes distant and flat.
“Lookie at my sleepin’ beauty.”
“Evie, this shit is so good . . .” Samantha magically quieted.
“She’s tired. So tired. Ain’t that right, honey bee?”
Samantha whispered a moan.
“Aw doodle bug, hold on, I’m coming too. Don’t leave me behind baby cakes.“ And just like everyday, Eve flicked the needle’s end twice and then once again for good luck. On the second push she smiled lying down on the chest of her love monkey—just as her heart beat one last time.