Bathroom Scene from Traffic

Caroline pauses after hearing a faint noise outside her bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, she freezes for an instant to contemplate freebasing the cocaine she has in her hands. It’s getting late and her parents could be home any minute now. However, anticipation for the rush is undeniable.  Her heart is pounding. The high will only last a few minutes. There’s enough time to come down before the parents get home. She must do it now.  

Caroline ignites the propane lighter cooking the cocaine rock that is resting on a piece of foil in her hand; melting it down into a vapor she inhales deep down in her youthful lungs through a straw.  “Caroline! Open this door immediately,” her dad suddenly demands while standing outside the locked bathroom door in her tidy upper-scale bedroom trying to open it. Quickly, she hides the paraphernalia above the cabinets taking a gasp to collect her voice. “Who is it? I’m going to the bathroom,” she says in a rush struggling for composure.  “OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!” her dad screams ripping the brass-layered door handle up and down in a burst of rage. “One minute,” she says with alarmed assurance, quickly spraying freshener in the drug filled air. The frenzy stops. Her dad stands still for a moment starring at the door, flooded by the obvious.  Catherine emerges from the bathroom. The cocaine sets in as she attempts to make her way around her dad. “Excuse me, I got to go to bed.” Her dad grabs her arm but the drug has a firmer grip. “Oh Geeze…,” he somberly says as her body goes limp against the side of a white Victorian-themed wardrobe.  The charred black tip of her left index finger tells him more than she will.