What does 'Hate' mean?

Hate

It was midnight. The dealer showed me two packages of cocaine to choose from. I scooped up one of the packages with one hand and handed him a hundred-dollar bill with my other hand. I looked out a window from his house. Seeing that there was no one on the street, I walked out the door to my car and drove home.

Once I was in my house, I pulled the drapes fully across the living room window. I sat on the sofa and I tossed the bag of cocaine onto the coffee table. I reached underneath for a irror, Very carefully, I broke the seal on the bag of cocaine, spreading all of it onto the mirror. Using a single edge razor blade, I arranged the coke into several straight lines. I rolled up a hundred dollar bill and I began snorting one line after another, pausing only to lay out more lines of coke. I snorted nearly half of the cocaine, clearing mind of Hatcher, the city, cussing my decision to work for him, finally leaning back to fully enjoy the pleasurable effects of the cocaine.

Suddenly, my arms and legs went limp, so thoroughly numb that I was incapable of lifting or moving them. My eyes, wouldn't focus and I was having great difficulty breathing. Whatever I just snorted wasn’t cocaine. Confused, my body immobilized like some sort of paralysis had set in, I prayed to stay calm. I sweated profusely. My shirt was drenching wet. I was sure that I was dying when an idea broke through the maze in my mind. I was able to remember that a friend’s husband was a doctor. I had met the couple at a party a few weeks ago.

I was able to concentration long enough to find the number. Seemingly, I was moving in slow motion. It took an eternity for my hand to actually reach out, pick up the telephone and dial the number. Although I was holding the receiver, I wasn’t actually able to feel it. My hand felt as though it was wrapped around air. I held the receiver up to my ear, hoping that someone would answer quickly.

“Come get me,” I pleaded. “Please come help me.” I was gripped by vertigo, finding it increasingly difficult to focus my eyes, think rationally, breath and talk.

“What’s wrong?” she asked me. “Are you okay?”

“Please, just come get me.”

Don’t move. We will be right over.”

I dropped the phone. My breathing became more erratic as I tried to lean my back up against the sofa. I had no sense of the time that elapsed before they arrived. It was as if I was locked into a timeless, dark void or deep hole where I could not move, think or feel.

The doctor, when he arrived, checked me over with a stethoscope. Together, they lifted me up from the sofa and, seeing that I was unable to walk, they literally carried me out the door to their car. I began to cry uncontrollably. I was lifted out of the car. Hoisting me up on their shoulders, I was taken inside of the house where I blacked out.