Confession of A Drug Addict

Chapter 9

I woke up in my wife's arms, feeling her gentle skin onto my face. I closed my eyes, smiling as I was taking in her aromatic scent. I didn't want to leave.

"Adrean." She spoke softly, caressing my cheeks.

"Yeah." I turned my gaze towards her, smile still plastered on my face.

But my happiness was nothing but a brief of moment. As I looked at her features, her expression was full of hurt. I grimaced. I was confused.

"What is it? Are you ok?"

She didn't reply, and still wearing that same expression. I sat up, took her left hand in mine and kissed it multiple times.

"What is it baby. You can tell me."

As I said that, she sat up on the mattress and showed me the surroundings in our room. It was a mess. Clothes were on the floor, drawers were pulled out, pictures, broken frames even the wall clock that I was always gazing was broken. And morphine. It was scattered all over the floor. I panicked, and asked her what happened.

"You don't remember, do you?" she said with a sour expression. I shook my head. She continued, "You were frantic last night. I was sleeping, and suddenly you were destroying everything in our room, looking for your stash. Then I remembered your morphine was on the dining table. I went to take it, and took it upstairs. When you saw I had your morphine, you hurt me; accusing me of stealing your drugs. And then that happened." She motioned towards the scattered morphine powder on the floor.

I was dumbfounded. I dared not ask how I acted after I took the morphine from her hands. The horrid image of me, being submissive and immersive in the influence of the drugs came flooding in my brain. I let my gaze fell onto the mattress, slightly shaken by the shocking news my wife just gave me. I squinted my eyes hard, shaking my head.

"I hurt you?" I asked, in disbelief of my action.

"Yeah." She showed me one of her wrists, it was bruised.

"Fuck." I avoided my gaze from her, turned around, crawled up in a ball and pulled my hair roughly.

"Adrean." She reached out to me, but I stayed away from her.

"No. please, don't." I said, still hiding my gaze from her. I didn't want her to see my face. I was a monster.

"You need help." She said to me softly, reaching out to me.

I didn't falter. She then scooted herself beside me, and put her arms around my bended body. She kissed my head, then my shoulder a few times, and rested her chin on top of my shoulder.

"There's a rehab centre in Clifton, about twenty minutes drive from here. You can go there, and get better." She said as she caressed my hair.

There was a slight paused, then I lifted my head from between my knees and turned to face her. She smiled at me, in her eyes, there was a gentle remark of reassurance. Again, I started to tear up. I was a broken man, I know. She knew about the violence; her mother was once like me. And she was there with me. She didn't leave. She meant what she said. She loves me. And I...I didn't deserve her.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry." I started sobbing, resting my head on her chest.

She took me in her arms, promising me that everything was going to be ok. She told me that I needed help, needed to go to rehab, needed to better myself. I just nodded, complying. I was ready to let go of morphine.

BlueCrest Recovery Centre.

I gazed upon the establishment in front of me. They say it's the best rehab centre in Clifton. Review was 4.8 over 5 on google, with lots of recommendations. As I stared at the building, my hands started to slightly shake. I was nervous. I was nervous for the counselling and treatment. And mostly, I was nervous for the withdrawal. Suboxones barely work on me anymore. I had to do the classic way out. Cold turkey.