Gambling with My Fuckin Life

Life is But a Stream

It has been 3 days since Des had moved into her new house in the 7th ward in New Orleans.
She had 15 pills left. She was trying her best to stretch them...it wasn't going so well and the end was coming. Des couldn't stop the thoughts of walking across the street to the tattooed strangers house and continuing along the same path she'd been walking.
The fear of an empty cellophane and no hope for more was almost too much for her to bear.
She had managed to acquire a couch, a mattress, ( she hated bed frames and always slept on a mattress on the floor) and a few dishes. Keeping herself busy making spicy content online and stacking her money.
Day 7 of living in the 7th ward came quickly, and Des had managed to still have one pill left. She yawned as she stared at the little blue circle in her palm.
No one but an addict can fully understand the thoughts and feelings running through you in this situation. Sickness is coming, and there's only two options: take it and look for more, or take it and enjoy the hour of relief you'll get before it starts again...and ride it the fuck out.
Maybe she could find a clinic? She'd been on medical assisted treatment (MAT) before, but she just snorted and sold, same patterns as when she was using illegally, might as well be getting High.
Then there was the very place she was living. Des had been in these places her whole life, she knew how to sniff out drugs. She knew her tattooed neighbor...nah. "I gotta do this".
Des popped her last pill into her straw and slowly and thoughtfully chewed it into dust, she popped the opening of the straw back into a circle and stuck it into her nose. "Here we go" she inhaled.
That was it, that was the last one, she was really going to do this....right?