George.

Shiva Steele

S: Shiva, C: Cade

I remember the day vividly. It was early summer, the breeze was still cool, yet the
humidity and Texas sun assaulted my face and body. School had just ended, it was a
Thursday, therapy day. I walked down to the street corner to wait for the bus. When the
bus arrived, I rode it for about 10 minutes, then got off and walked the rest of the way. I
don't really remember my therapy session at all, due to the tragedy that struck me later.
After therapy, I usually went to Cade and George’s house since it’s about a 5 minute
walk away. As I walked, I considered letting them know I was coming, yet chose against
it since they both kind of always expect me to come hang out after. As I walked up the
driveway, I felt my stomach start to fumble around inside of my body. I walk from the
front of the house, to the back because that’s where the main door is. I noticed as I
walked past the windows of the crib, that both of their rooms were completely dark.
Confusion crept its way into my brain as I knocked on the front door. No answer.

I sat on the porch for a while, not because I was waiting for them, but because
something felt wrong. I sat on my phone for a while, scrolling through instagram, till my
finger stopped on a picture and caption that made my stomach sink. It was a post on
Cade’s instagram read “this can’t be real” accompanied by a photo of George. I imme-
diately called Cade, I don't really know how many times I ended up ringing his number.
My body more or less went into panic. I threw my phone on the cement as ran to
George’s window, I looked inside the bleak, empty looking room. I don’t remember ex-
actly when I started crying, but at that point tears streamed down my face, it felt as
though they'd never stop. I tried opening the window, it opened. I stared inside, as my
body froze completely. The draft inside flowed into the outside and the smell of ciga-
rettes and something else hit my nose. It was at this point that the nausea hit me. I
slammed the window shut, “this is bullshit, this has to be bullshit” I kept repeating to my-
self within my new state of psychosis.

As my phone began receive texts, my body felt as though it was ripped out what-
ever trance it was trapped in, and I ran to my phone. I frantically pressed on my phone
screen until it unlocked.

C: I’m okay
S: Where are you?
Is George okay?
C: I’m okay.
 George.
Shiva Steele

S: Cade where the fuck are you????

C: Call me

I immediately dialed his number and waiting as my leg shook violently.

C: Hey…
S: Dude what is going on?
C: Umm… so like, George relapsed on heroin two days ago, and this morning he didn't
come into work, so I uhh went um home. To check on him, and I like, shit, he over-
dosed. He died. He’s dead. Fuck.
S: Why? why the fuck did this happen?
C: I should’ve done something, it honestly probably should’ve been me instead. How is
it not me?
S: I dont know dude, don’t put that on yourself though. Where are you right now are you
safe?
C: yeah, i’m with some people, I’ll be alright for now. I saw you earlier, I wanted to tell
you what happened then, but I was so high off GHB i totally wouldn’t have been able to
say it.
S: This is harsh, all of it, way too harsh. This is the punishment of a lifestyle you
shouldn’t have been leading, but this shouldn’t have been the consequence, this is
messed up.
C: I gotta, go. sorry, I know you cared a lot about him too. But you should leave the
house, it isn't good, being there.
S: yeah… okay. I love you and I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what.
C: love you, bye

I held my phone in my hand, and sat on that porch until the shock went away.
Then I wearily rose to my feet, and slowly trudged my way to the coffee shop down the
street. I didn't buy anything, I just sat outside and watched an unassuming world, people
kept moving, time kept moving, life was happening. Yet, I sat there still bloodshot eyes
stuck on the pavement in front of me.

I have lost friends before to drugs, so many. I thought it would’ve gotten easier, it
doesn’t. It never does. I think of George everyday. However, today, I think of him only
fondly. Only his best moments and qualities, yet behind it all, I can visualize Cade find-
ing his body, in the haunting baby blue room he used to sleep in.