Nanowrimo 2015

Untitled Part 1

"Hi Cecil, I hope you had a good first day at Building Life Rehab Center. Since this is our first meeting I just want you to tell me why you started using drugs," my rehab counselor tells me.

"I wanted the voices to stop," I inform him.

"How did these voices start?"

"They got worst after my dad died. I remember the day my dad died. It was all my fault, but my therapist tells me it isn't. My therapist says it was the guy holding the gun, and I wasn't holding the gun. Yet, my dad wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me. I somehow, always have a way of messing things up.

It started when I was five when I accidentally left the gate open and my dog ran away. I noticed right away that he got out and I went out to get him, but before I could get him he got hit by a car. I think the whole neighborhood could hear me screaming. The person that hit my dog came out immediately came out to apologize and blamed herself, but it was my fault.

When I was 8 I got into a fight. Well, I was actually ambushed, but the people who ambushed me said I started it. I thought they were my friends, but I was wrong. I must have done something to make them kick me in the stomach and punch me in the face; real friends would beat each other up. I tried to fight back, but two against one is never a fair fight. I got in school suspension and I lost two close friends.

At the age of ten, I almost set my house on fire. I was trying to make popcorn, but something went wrong and the microwave started on fire. My parents were not happy and I didn't allow myself in the kitchen for a week. My parents understood that it was an accident, but I couldn't stop thinking about how I could have prevented. I don't eat popcorn anymore, because of this incident.

Fourteen was the age I started doing drugs. The drugs made the voices in my head go away, and I liked it. It started out as I would only get some every few months, but then started to progress. I started selling my stuff and when that wasn't enough I would steal from my parents. All I knew was that I need those drugs to stop the voices in my head.

I an now 17 and because of my drug addiction my father died. My parents were really supportive, and tried to help me, but I didn't want the voices to come back. I just wanted the voices to be gone, to vanish. My father tried to stop me from buying drugs that night. He was just talking to me, and I guess the dealer got tired of waiting. That's when everything started going fast. I remember hearing a bang, screaming, my father slumping over, and blood running down my dad's back. I called 911 and my dad was taken to the hospital, but they couldn't save him.

After my father's funeral my mom sent me to a rehab center. I wasn't happy when she told me, but I couldn't blame her. She dropped me off in the Building Life Rehab Center yesterday. Now that you know why I'm here," I say slightly nerves because I don't know how he will react.

"You explained it better than most people do. Most people will probably speak about it for about a minute and you probably spoke for five," I'm about to reply when he continue, "It's almost like you have accepted that you are a drug addict. Do you think that you have accepted that fact?"

"If you asked me before my dad died I would have said no, but my dad's death has sort of made me realize that I have a problem," I explain to him.

"Well, admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, so I hope you have a good recovery," with that the counselor gets up and open the door for me to leave.

I nod my head and head out the door. I leave the office and I head to the cafeteria area. If I remember correctly from the tour yesterday, lunch is served at noon. My meeting with the counselor was at 11:30, so by the time I find the cafeteria, it should be noon.