Unraveled

Moving On

My dad used to pray for lost souls. He stopped when he caught me high for the first time. At that time, it was just marijuana. Still, it was the first time I'd ever delved in any type of drug. It was a big deal. My father was more worried about it than I was. Marijuana wasn't a gateway drug. At the next party, Deryk had accidentally—or purposefully—given me a joint that had cocaine laced in it. After that, I started my journey through the different drugs. It'd just been the typical party drugs—pot, coke, acid—until Sasha had given me that heroin. Now, I craved more.

I stared at the officer—Officer Davey, as he'd introduced himself—leaning against the desk across from me. He'd asked me how I was doing and I hadn't been able to give him an answer. He'd asked how long I'd been on my own, and I'd finally been able to tell him it'd been about a month. It was crazy to think that was all the longer it'd been.

"How long have you been using?" he asked after a moment.

I looked down at my hands. "I'm not."

"That's a load of shit. An addict is one of the best liars there is. We can't even trust ourselves," he said. I rolled my eyes. When he didn't continue, I looked up at him. "I've got about twelve years of sobriety. So, son, how long have you been using?"

I cleared my throat, looking back down at the floor. "About a year. Just pot until about six months ago."

"Heroin? Meth? Cocaine?" he asked. I frowned. "Which ones are you using now?"

I scratched at the back of my neck. "I haven't touched meth. Just some heroin every now and then. Snorting it and then smoking it. Crack has been about three months."

"You'll be injecting it next."

"Yeah," I said as I sat back in the chair. I looked at him. "Why?"

Davey sat down on the chair next to me. "Meth is a bear to get sober from. The other two are, too, but add meth to the mix and it's almost impossible. That shit will fuck up your head more than the others."

I looked back down at my hands. I thought of Jacob laying in my bed, riding out the heroin high he was on. How long until I was like him? How long until I was in the downward spiral that our friends were in? Or, was I already there? Just spinning and spinning until everything was fucked up and I didn't know what is what?

"You should come to a meeting with me."

I snorted. "Yeah, totally. That's what I'm going to do."

"Hey," he snapped. I looked over at him sharply. "It works. Don't shit on something you don't know about."

"I don't want to know about it. Tell Betsy that I appreciate the impromptu intervention, but I'm alright."

"That's the thing," Davey said as he slowly shook his head. "You aren't alright. No one who uses is. Whatever happened at home, it isn't worth going down the dark path that you are on."

"Look," I said, starting to stand, "you don't know me and I don't know you. I'm just going to leave and you can feel good about trying. Alright? It's more than anyone at home ever did."

"You a believer still?" he asked as he stood, too.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I think I lost my faith in God when my dad lost his faith in me."

"'He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds'." I looked away. "You know it?"

"Yeah, is Psalms. I'm not brokenhearted and if God healed wounds, He would have done that by now," I told him as I opened the door and walked out.