Home > Junkie (The Driven World)

Junkie (The Driven World)
Author: J.D. Hollyfield



I’m a junkie.

I live for the moments when adrenaline floods my system, making my heart pump like a wild drum inside my chest, threatening to explode at any moment. That’s what I crave.

Every second counts. The highs. The lows. The endorphins that race through my blood in a fury, injecting the addiction I desire. The high is my salvation—the place I feel most alive—and there’s no stopping me when I’m high. There’s only that voice that urges me to push harder. I’m fucking crazy, I know. I’m not wired like most. I’ve accepted that.

The full moon lights my path as I drive up to the hidden location. Luxury neon lights come into view, lining the dark, quiet strip of roadway that should be abandoned. I pull up with my Pagani Huayra BC Roadster, one of the fastest cars currently on the market, and shift her into park next to the other hyper cars full of junkies just like me.

A knock on my driver side window grabs my attention. Before the window’s fully down, Jade, my best friend—my only friend—sticks his head inside, his purple dreadlocks swaying back and forth. “There’s my girl and her need for speed! Damn, Luna, you’re on fire tonight. Who’s the beauty? Another loaner?”

I’m also a thief.

I didn’t grow up in a conventional and loving family who taught me right from wrong and showered me with love and affection. They don’t offer much of that fairytale bullshit in foster care. Probably why my hobbies include all things illegal and frowned upon. My bank account is nonexistent, especially as of two weeks ago when I lost it all in a bunk race. So, to feed my addiction, I have to get creative—aka, find someone else to foot the bill for me.

I unlatch my seatbelt and push on the handle to exit the vehicle. Jade backs up, licking his lips as he takes in my car for the night. “Let’s just say someone may be confused when their dinner date ends and they realize their fancy car is not where they left it.”

The Pagani is not my first heist, and it won’t be my last. The logistics are simple. I spend my week stalking downtown Cleveland, watching, waiting. Ohio doesn’t scream money, but the rich do love to come to the city to show off their expensive toys, along with their arm candy—ninety percent of the time, not their wives or even girlfriends. The things you learn when you have nothing but time. I watch for patterns. Wait for the perfect opportunity. Then, when the time is right, I strike. Hijacking a car is easy. One click on the right YouTube video could teach anyone. A simple tapping of two wires and viola! Stealing the cars isn’t what feeds my high though. It isn’t when I slide into the driver’s seat and the Italian leather warms my palms, or even the rush that I just made someone’s prized possession mine. Racing—that’s what does it. It’s the pure, raw adrenaline of bringing something to such an intense speed without restraints, bordering on insanity all while knowing I’m the one in control. Now that’s a fuckin high. “Girl, you kill me. Big race tonight, though. Lots of money on the line.”

Yeah, lots of money I need to win. Losing isn’t an option. I take my lucky hairband from my wrist and pull my thick hair into a ponytail, securing it away from my face. “Got this one in the bag. Meet me at the finish line, and I’ll treat you to a late-night drink.”

Jade hollers, “Drink? You’re gonna buy me more than a drink if you win this one.” And I plan on winning. I scope out the warehouse, taking in the competition. Typical souped-up Mustangs. Low riding Mazda MX probably stocked with enough nitrous oxide to blow off the road. Christoff, a regular racer, leans against his Porsche 944, the neon lights on the undercarriage glowing at his feet. None intimidate me—until my eyes land on the Nissan 350Z. It’s not the car exactly; it’s all the juice inside it and the driver.

“So, what’s this baby got?” Jade pops the hood to take a peek inside.

I rip my gaze off the car and address Jade. “Seven hundred fifty-five horsepower. Top speed of two-thirty mph and I can get her from zero to sixty in two-point-three seconds.” I drag my finger along the body. Jade whistles, causing a few patrons to glance our way. Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to win this one.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Luna Monroe. Thought you disappeared after that embarrassing loss last month.” We both rotate our heads toward the incoming douchebag, Jerad Stellar, top drag racer in all surrounding counties, the only person I’ve ever lost a race to—which cost me every dime I had—and a grade-A asshole.

“Go fuck yourself, Stellar. Oh, wait…that’s for your mom to do.” Jerad jumps at Jade, cocking his fist back. I intervene, stepping between them.

“What do you want, Jerad?” I can’t deal with his shit right now. I need to stay focused.

Jerad steps forward, pushing up against me. My stomach churns at the feel of his chest against mine. Raising his hand, he takes a loose strand of hair between two fingers, rolling it between the tips. “You know what I want.” His words make my skin crawl. He bends forward, allowing his breath to skate along my ear. “Just give in. You know I can take this sweet little body to places no other man has. I’d even give you back some of your losses if you took this beautiful mouth and wrapped your fuckable lips around my cock.” I shove him off me. Don’t let him get in your head. Not again.

“Mmmm, feisty. You know how much I like that side of you, babe.”

My stomach threatens to expel the small meal I managed to finagle for dinner all over his expensive shoes. “I think I’ll pass,” I say, trying to hide that he’s affected me in any way. Jerad laughs, then shoves his shoulder into Jade as he walks away into the sea of racers and bystanders.

“You okay?” Jade asks.

No. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You ever going to tell me what happened between you two?”

He tried to rape me. “No.”

I can only blame myself. Losing to him fucked me. I put up everything I had to lock a spot in that race, and I thought I had it too—until Jerad cut me off at the overtake, pulling some straight-out-of-the-movies bullshit, nicking my right tire. There are no rules in street racing in regards to special standards, so it was fair game. He could have side-swiped me off that course, but it would have been obvious to other opponents. My tire blew, and I lost my traction, veering left and nailing a long row of construction barrels. That move cost me the win.

My mind wasn’t right. I thought I could show up at his place, find a way to give him what he’d been begging for, and steal my money back. But he was stronger. And his need for me was more intense than my ability to fend him off. If his roommate didn’t come home…

I shake off the memory. I need to focus.

A horn blasts through the industrial complex, signaling racers to get ready.

“It’s time.”

Jade hugs me tight before I climb back into my car and pull around the crowd. I roll down my window as the guy prepares to flip a coin. This is how they match up opponents. Two racers at a time. There are eight cars in total, which means the probability of getting tagged with Jerad again are—

“Monroe and Stellar, you’re up first.”

Fuck! I keep my expression impassive, fighting not to look at him. I feel his beady eyes on me, and I bet my right tit he’s grinning like a fucking jerk.

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