The Lucid, injected directly to Vander’s neck, had taken effect well before Deon had finished with her. It was the first time she’d wished the drug had metabolized slower. Every sense had been heightened. Colours had become vivid, sounds crystal-clear, and sensations…a thousand times more intense. 

She walked numbly down the street now, the backpack clutched in her hands. There were four syringes left inside; enough to last at least a day. If she didn’t think about how she got them, she could even feel almost happy. And so long as she was still on the high from the drug, not thinking came easier than it would later. Not easy. Just easier.

The bright neon signs no longer hurt her eyes or provoked her headache. No, the colours and lights were beautiful. The noise of the street was an electrifying hum. She let herself revel in the drug, walking home via a roundabout route and emptying her mind of thoughts. Soon enough, she found herself back in District 16, walking down the street to her familiar run-down apartment. Vander entered, pulling a small electric-key from her back pocket. The backpack was stowed in the bottom corner of her tiny closet. As an extra, albeit somewhat paranoid, precaution, she grabbed a pair of dirty jeans and threw them on top. 

Vander had been intending to sleep. Earlier that night, she’d been looking forward to the heavy unconsciousness and vivid dreams that accompanied the drug. But after tonight…with the thoughts lurking at the edge of her mind…the sweet sleep was bound to end in horrifyingly realistic nightmares. 

She walked to the bathroom, looking in the mirror with dilated pupils and pulling her hair back from her face. The bruise on her cheek had blossomed already. To her, the colours registered as brilliant violets and blues, emerald green and sickly yellow licking the edges. In reality, she knew that the colours were slightly more subdued, though still obvious. There were doubtlessly bruises elsewhere, but she was not in the mood to take inventory just now. 

Instead, Vander zipped her jacket up as high as it would go, and headed for the door again. The cooling night air hit her in the face, and she let herself enjoy it. Her hands were tingling with Lucid, and there were still hours left before morning. Vander started walking, her hands slipping into her pockets…

…and brushing against the piece of paper crumpled up in the corner. She pulled it out, knowing already what it was, but reading it nonetheless. She stared at the lines, the letters, the name on the card. District 1. She’d had her fix now. She would be able to carry on a conversation without distraction. She’d be able to enjoy a conversation. Hell…right now, she [i]needed[/i] a conversation. Vander slipped the paper back into her pocket, and let her legs carry her through the night. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sights of Zone Alpha, to a mind doped up on Lucid, were nothing short of awing. Vander easily ignored the stares she got, gawking at the towering skyscrapers instead. The heights were dizzying. Truly vertigo-inducing. 

By sticking to the smaller streets, she managed to avoid the majority of the stares. But disapproving glances were still cast in her direction when Alpha citizens caught sight of her haircut, her ripped jeans, and her wasting build. The druggie didn’t belong here, but no one dared to speak up. They all assumed that law enforcement would pick her up and shoo her away. She reached District 1, and sped up her pace. The streets grew more and more unfamiliar, but she still had a vague sense of where she was going. 

Just as Vander neared the address that had been written on the card, she caught sight of a familiar figure. 

“James!” she called impulsively, and then hesitated, unsure of how to approach him now. Even with Lucid chasing away some of her reservations, she was out of her comfort zone in Alpha. She closed the gap between them. The pained walk he had left the club with was gone. “Are you all right?”