White Line Fever

The mirror sat there, mocking him. He looked into it hesitantly, but not to search for his image. A dusty pile of white powder filled the space, and just looking at it gave him chills. Carefully, he picked up his rusted razor blade and started cutting and swiping across the image in a swift pattern, leaving thin scratches on the smooth surface. Those weren’t the first.

“Ugh,” He grunted as the razor slipped from his calloused fingers, landing inches from his bare feet. He left it there nonetheless, taking a dollar bill out of his wallet instead. It rolled up effortlessly despite his shaking fingers. He needed to do this more than anything.

The cotton-threaded paper’s sharp edges brushed up against his nostril, while he leaned in closer to his toxic addiction, “Fuck.” He dropped a heavy breath and sucked in the dust through his nose. He could already feel the euphoric sensations taking over. After a moment of deliria, he continued taking in every last bit. Line after line, high after high.

Then he felt nothing and everything all at once. A feeling of ecstasy filled him up from the end of his toes, into every strand of hair on his head. He was on top of the world.

The addict smiled and sniffled, taking in remnants left behind on his nose, before wiping it with his sleeve. In these moments, all that mattered was the cigarette in his left pocket and making sure he kept his clothes on. The fans wouldn’t notice red eyes behind ray bans, but nakedness in a public setting? That would give the press a field day.

“Hey man.” Joe bumped into an unsuspecting crew member as he jumbled out of the clean, single-stalled bathroom, “How’s it going?” Before the person could answer, Joe took off down the hallway to stand outside.

He positioned himself behind the tour buses so no one waiting outside the fence could potentially see him. Glancing around three times, he pulled the cigarette out of his pocket along with a purple lighter. It took him a couple flicks before he actually lit the cancer stick, but once it was going he took a long drag to cool himself down.

Some people like to stay on their high as long as possible, but this wasn’t an option for Joe. He was Joe Jonas after all; pop star extraordinaire. The buds dropped one by one as he slowly calmed his jittery nerves. When he had smoked the whole thing down to it’s base, he dropped it to the black top and smashed it under his blue designer sneakers. Sighing, the Jonas brother ran his hands up the sides of his head, slicking up his stiff faux hawk. "I can't take this much longer."

With minutes to spare, Joseph ran back inside towards the boys' dressing room. He found his brothers playing an intense game of Guitar Hero: World Tour. "Livin' on a prayer again, Nick? Really? How many times are you going to play this one?" Joe didn't really care, though he acted as if he did. Just about everything he said to his brothers was an act. Lying was the only thing he did perfectly; it was a curse and a blessing in itself.

"I'm trying for one hundred percent, this time." Nick licked his lips involuntarily, concentrating on the moving notes.

"Guys, ten minutes." Mr. Jonas came in the room. He gave each boy a pat on the back as they walked out of the room. He was proud of them, for all they had accomplished. Joe was the last to leave the room. Though no one noticed, he gave them all dirty looks. He didn't want to be going on stage, and he didn't want to be acting every night through out the whole tour again. Joe was ready to explode.

Before everyone gathered at the riser, the middle Jonas exclaimed he needed to use the restroom. "Weren't you just there?" Oblivious little Nicholas asked.

"Nerves," Joe muttered before running off. It was the only excuse he could come up with, though they all knew Joe Jonas didn't get nervous. He got antsy, there was a huge difference.

As quickly as he could, Joe sprinted to the bathroom. Any stop watch could tell you that it was in record time. Closing the door softly, the brunette sewed his eyes shut in pain. His chest felt like it was going to explode. The toxins left his heart to beat up to three times faster than normal, and it was one of the most uncomfortable things he'd ever had to endure, “Oh, Lord.” Joe moaned in agony. That wasn’t the first time Joe’s nerves had gone out of whack.

It took all of three seconds for his muscles to go limp; he must have looked like a rag doll dropping to the floor. His right arm hit the door handle and swung upwards, coming back down only to smack with a loud thump against the floor. Joe didn’t believe in miracles, but he’d do anything to make the pain stop. It had escalated past his groin into his thick thighs. They started to twitch uncontrollably.

“Joe?” The noise behind the door was faint to his ears. It was hard to focus on much in his state. Joseph gurgled under the amount of saliva forming in his mouth. The outsider must have heard him. “Joe!”

A pressure was placed on the seizure victim’s back as the door was forced open. It was near impossible to get inside the bathroom with Joe’s aesthetically pleasing pounds of muscle not being able to function. Eventually the person found their way into the room and knelt down next to Joe’s body.

“What the hell? What happened!?” Nick near shouted in fright. He pushed the sweaty bangs from his brother’s forehead and placed an ear to his chest. It sounded as if a humming bird was sucking the juices of his precious heart.

“Need…” Joe managed to spit out in a wet voice.

“What do you need, Joe?” Nick asked in a caring voice, going into automatic caring mode. He pressed the back of his hand to Joe’s forehead; he was burning up.

“Help.” Joe cracked an almost twisted smile and his head smacked back against the cool tiling. Help could mean several things. To Joe, it meant, ‘Help me fight this sick addiction.’ Nick simply interpreted it as, ‘I’m sick. Help me get better.’ Proof that a word can mean a thousand things.

Soon, the paramedics had arrived and Joe was taken into the ambulance on a white stretch-gurney. Inside the vehicle, they took his blood pressure and checked his vitals. His body was going into a shock overdose from all the drugs building up in his system over the past year.

The family followed behind in an SUV on the way to the hospital. The show would have to be cancelled for reasons unknown to the public. Once they arrived to the sterile building, fans were already filling up outside. Word had gotten out fast.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jonas?” A doctor in white scrubs was out in the waiting room an hour later. His face was torn and pale, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Joe’s parents walked towards the other side of the room to hear the news of their son. Nick watched intently.

The first thing he saw was his mother collapse to the ground; the second being tears in his fathers eyes. Those were both new sights, and he instantly knew why they were necessary. But he had yet to know why.

He looked over at Kevin and sat his head between his knees. The four brothers had always been close. Frankie looked confused, as he gazed towards his broken mother.

The doctor noticed Nick was the only one not mentally incapable of thought at the time. He sighed and strode over to where he was sitting, “I’m deeply sorry about your brother.”

“Why was he… what happened to him?” Nick’s husky voice struggled for words. The older man explained to him about the amount of drugs they had found in his system; though his body was strong, his mind was weakening. It simply became too much.

“We thought you might want this. A nurse found it in his pocket.” Before walking away, he slipped a piece of paper into Nick’s shaking hand. Taking a deep breath, the fragile boy unfolded it and silently read it to himself;

Don’t let them get to you.