Gambling with My Fuckin Life

Slip on a Banana Clip

Des felt like shit. Like absolute shit.
It had been 24 hours since she chewed up her last pill and gobbled it up with her nose.
It was so fucking hot, but she was freezing.
Des laid in her bed, putting the blanket on, taking the blanket off. Her legs and arms were aching and the restlessness was setting in. She was so sick to her stomach but there was nothing to throw up.
She had thought to stock her refrigerator with things she might need during this...experience, but the thought of walking to the kitchen was even too much to think about. She needed fluids, this was going to be a lot worse without fluids.
Her body was so heavy she could barely move it, her dry, chapped mouth aching for the Gatorade in the refrigerator. "Come on Des, at least try goddamnit!".
She had never been good at withdrawing. She'd never made it past the kicking stage. Her mind would completely leave her and the instinct to feel better would take over..every time.
Des flung her blanket off of her and put her feet onto the cold floor..it felt good. With every bit of willpower she could muster, she dragged her shocked body into the kitchen.
The thing about opiate withdrawal, it happens fast, the symptoms rapidly move on top of each other . It takes over your entire body, mind and soul. There's no bigger feeling of emptiness, hopelessness, or anger, than withdrawing from opiates. You feel completely alone, as if there is never an end in site.
Des stood at the counter and chugged a blue Gatorade. She set the bottle down and put all her weight into her arms onto the counter top, staring out her kitchen window.
Directly across the street, she saw the tattooed stranger for the first time since that day on the bus. He was sitting on the front porch with another man, looked to be about the same age, long curly hair, kinda chubby, looked just as much "up to no good" as his roommate . They were passing a blunt and laughing. They looked so relaxed, so unbothered, and it infuriated her.
Des could feel the anger building, like a tea pot boiling, screaming, she was screaming. Furious with herself, furious with her symptoms, furious she let her life get to this and furious at every person in the world not experiencing what she was experiencing.
Des paced her kitchen screaming and punching the air, the cabinets, the floor..."I can't do this!!!!!!!" Her mental state was quickly going downhill.
"Go get in the bath Des", she thought to herself. Warm baths relax the muscles during withdrawal, and can temporarily ease the symptoms.
She sat slumped over the edge of the tub, watching it fill with water. If misery had a home, this was it.
Slipping her thumbs into her sweatpants, excited to get some relief from her bath, Des hears a knock at her door.