“…police say they will search the neighborhood high and low until the culprits are apprehended. Until that time Mrs. Culverson and her Lhasa Apso Pip can only bolt their doors at night and remember fondly the Willenhall they used to know. Now here’s Lauren Fitwell reporting from Ibiza, Spain with BBC Health.”
“Thank you, Spence…It goes by many names: Cora, Crystal C, Loose-C, Lucy, Ruby Tuesday, Red Dawn and Girl’s Night Out, but you may know it best as Crystal Corazon. It is the designer drug being manufactured by the tonne somewhere in Midwest America, Eastern Siberia or possibly an Amazonian village in Bolivia. Somehow, someway it is getting sneaked into the U.K. in large quantities and then shipped here…to the world-renowned party island of Ibiza, where it sells for as much as £30 a hit.
“No one really knows how it got started. But Crystal Corazon is one of the rare narcotics that seems to only produce a high in females. Researchers believe that it reacts in some way with the female hormone estrogen. The drug produces a wave of euphoria in the user. Within an hour of ingestion, usually by mouth, although there have been reports of a stronger high when taken rectally; the user will be overcome by a sense of immense well-being, and high esteem. That is shortly followed by extreme narcissism, hyper self-centeredness and an impervious attitude toward pain and harm.”
“(Shouting) A user might start her evening here… (Lauren is in a crowded night club with throbbing dance music playing loudly and strobe lights piercing the darkness to reveal chic, young women dancing mindlessly) …and end up the next morning in a place like this…”
(Cut to Lauren in a quiet, bright hospital wing in front of a pair of swinging doors marked ‘Casting Room.’ Now talking in a hushed tone.) This is outside of the A&E in St. Lucia Hospital on the outskirts of town. (A young blonde in a long leg cast methodically crutches past her) This is the Casting Room. In just the last 8 months, admissions here have skyrocketed 3700%. So much so, that the Spanish government recently had to triple the size of this ward.
“This is the consulting room. (Lauren enters through a sliding electric glass door. Inside the room are more than two dozen hospital beds all filled with young women in arm casts, leg casts, shoulder spicas, hip spicas, body casts and the occasional freshly amputated limb. It is a veritable sea of white plaster and bandages barely covered by white hospital gowns.) All of these women suffered single or multiple injuries within the last twenty-four hours. And this happens every night…seven days a week…broken arms, broken legs, mutilated and twisted limbs. Crystal Corazon is the slow killer that attacks women one body part at a time.”
“I’m here with Leanne from Derby. (Leanne is a toothsome teenager with strawberry-blond hair sitting upright in her hospital bed. Both of her arms are propped up in a plaster double-shoulder spica. Her left leg is in a cast just beyond her knee and her right leg is in a short cast up to her calf.) Leanne, tell us what happened last night.”
(Leanne) “Well, me and the girls ended up at the Wet Splash nightclub trying to figure out where we would get our evening started, right? Then Cill, my best friend Priscilla says, “Hey, I know a friend of a friend who can get her hands on some really Grade-A Cora. Why don’t we drop some tonight? YOLO, right? So, three hours later we’re dancing away at the Amnesia Club when the drugs start to take effect. You know, at first I am starting to feel really, really good about myself, right? I am beautiful, I’m busty, I’m supermodel tall with tiny little feet and I’m like kissing and making out with my friends. That’s when things got a little fuzzy. Cill did a face-plant right out of the DJ’s crow’s nest, Pammy hijacked a pedicab and rolled it off a cliffside and I found myself surrounded by an Italian lesbian motor scooter club badmouthing Juventus F.C.”
“And you received all these injuries when the lesbian motor scooter club attacked you?”
“No, I received all these injuries when I stole one of their Vespas and drove it up the staircase of the Ibiza Hilton and out the window of the Honeymoon Suite…then they beat me up.”
“Sounds awful. Do you think you will ever take Crystal Corzaon again?”
“Hmmm…not sure. They say the first time is the roughest. My biggest problem right now, is how am I going to get back to England? They won’t be able to fit me through the plane door. I’ll probably have to fly cargo.”
“Thank you, Leanne. (Lauren strolls through the Consulting Room passing in front of numerous women in slings and traction and a few with bandaged stumps, softly moaning and groaning.) The tragedy of Crystal Corazon has gripped this small resort island like a bacillus plague. Every day the boats bring thousands of young women on holiday to the beaches and clubs of Ibiza and every night the ambulances and ad hoc transports bring them into hospitals like St. Lucia to get mended and patched up. A few rehab clinics have been set up in England, France and Germany, but so far nothing has stemmed the tide of this highly dangerous drug. Today, a 737 will fly in with yet another crew of medical staff from Doctors Without Borders, but worried authorities here and in the capital can only wonder…will it be enough? This is Lauren Fitwell…, in Ibiza, Spain.”
Ramoncita clicked off the television. “What am I getting into?” she thought. She remembered her own horrible accident when her late boyfriend ran her over with his Audi causing her numerous broken bones and the loss of her right arm. Then she thought about her recent accident—her encounter with Lusa and the long, torturous night of having her limbs twisted and cracked. The pain was horrendous, practically unbearable. But then she remembered the two mule trips she made, her casts packed and crammed with packets of Crystal C—everything tight and comfy in her plaster body cast. She handled security flawlessly: every question answered, not even the slightest suspicion. And each of those trips netted her £300,000. And now she was going to be in charge. Those NYC to London trips were about to look like child’s play.
Ramoncita snickered and ordered her nurse to bring her another glass of Chateau Lafite. “Tonight I drink my wine out of a plastic straw. By this time next month, it will be a gold straw.”