Free Patient Privilege by Allison Cassatta

he didn't even have the shit to shoot up with. Everything he owned or cared about had been stowed away in his backpack. "Fuck," he muttered. He really hated snorting heroin, but he had to do something. He would lose his mind if he sat there staring at the only bit of peace this world offered him.
    Angel looked around the grungy motel room. His brain was going haywire, nerves on the blackened end of fried. His shaking hands dug through drawers, searching for anything thin and solid enough to chop the heroin down into fine lines. He ended up with one of those stupid advertisements for local pizza delivery places that every shitty motel had next to the phone. It wasn't perfect, but it worked in a pinch.
    He sorted out five lines with the intent of doing them all before the cavalry came, if his savior even managed to find him this time. Those five, sweet white lines stared back at him, almost seemed to be smiling with satisfaction because they had so much control over him.
    Angel rolled one of the bills Mr Nasty from the alley had paid him with, snorted one line, then another. The high wasn't as intense as it could've been, but definitely better than nothing. He flopped back on the bed and a grin stretched across his face as he slid his hand up and down the center of his chest.
    Okay, maybe he couldn't give up the high so easily. Maybe he'd been kidding himself thinking he could get clean and possibly have a normal life. The dragon made him feel too damn good to just walk away. It gave him a warm, disembodied feeling, like floating through the sky, almost like the bliss of being loved.
    There was a sudden pounding on the door and Angel lifted his head, though he refused to climb out of the bed to get it. His bare legs dangled over the edge. His moist, naked chest glistened in the yellow light of the room. His arms spread out just like the smile on his face. Angel laughed.
    "You're getting good at this," he yelled toward the door.
    "Let me in, you asshole!" Jon called back.
    "I ain't fuckin' movin'," Angel said, voice lazy, giving away just how high he really was. "C'mon, kick it down, Jon. You're good at that shit, right?"
    "Fine. I'll call the cops and tell them someone overdosed in room one-twenty-nine."
    With a few haphazardly delivered curses and a groan that rumbled up through Angel's body, he hefted himself from the bed and started for the door. The remaining three lines caught his eye and stopped him where he stood. Jon pounded on the door again. "Give me a fucking second, okay?" He snorted one more line and stood there for a moment, gripping the edge of the table. The initial jolt had to pass before he could face Jon.
    Somehow, Angel managed to stumble to the door. His hand locked around the knob and when he wrenched the damn thing open, his eyes shot straight past Jon and on to Dr Daniels.
    "What the fuck is he doing here?"
    "Angel," Jon said as he reached for his hand.
    Angel ripped his arm back. "Fucking answer me, Jon!"
    "He came to help."
    "I don't need any help!"
    "Yes, you do!"
    Angel started backing away only to trip over the shoes he'd left in the middle of the floor, landing flat on his ass. He shook his head wildly. "Get the fuck out of my room! Leave me alone!" he demanded. "And take that asshole with you!" He threw his arm out, slicing through the air, stabbing his finger toward the doctor, who still stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
    He waited for Jon to argue, but his best friend didn't say a damn word. Jon only stormed past him, marching toward the table like a man on a mission. Angel's eyes followed every step, followed the line of Jon's sight and landed on the lines of white powder carved out on the table.
    "Jon," Angel called out, pushing himself up from the floor and stumbling toward Jon's determined, enraged body. He'd never seen such strength in Jon before. "Dude! Stop!"
    But Jon didn't stop. He headed straight for the table, gripped the edges and dumped the whole thing over