Prologue
Bailey's PovHeroin; most people know what it is, but if we took a step back and just focused on the word and not the definition, if you didn't know what it was, it sounds almost pretty, innocent; like Heroine or Hero, which makes it sound okay.
But Heroin is the villain in life. Ultimately there is nothing good about it, but when you have an Addiction it becomes your Hero in life. When you have an addiction your drug is what makes life okay, it's what makes life worth living because who develops an addiction to Heroin if their life is happy and complete and full of joy.
No one, that's who,
We seek out drugs to fix out fucked up lives. We seek out drugs because were not strong enough to stay away or say no. we do drugs because were missing something that we think it can fill. We take drugs as an escape when we don't know where else to escape to.
For me it was all of the above. I chose to see my life as miserable and my parents as the devil and did anything to piss them off. At fifteen I started with weed, and when that just couldn't give me the high I wanted I moved to party drugs and pills but it still wasn't what I wanted.
And then I heard the word; Heroin; Such a strong but beautiful word, a word that would soon mean everything to me.
I took it once at that party and the amazing feeling I got from it was indescribable. It was just what I craved from a drug and from then on out I would do anything to be able to get that feeling again.
Heroin was my life. School didn't matter, friends didn't matter, homework didn't matter, High school only mattered when we could sneak to the woods and light up, making it bearable to get through the day.
And when I ran out of money to supply my fix, when we were all feeling that itch to get our hands on some but we just couldn't scrape up the money, well that's where breaking, entering, theft, and a whole list of charges came into play.
We got through senior year stealing every weekend without getting caught. We would break into houses and take anything of value, we would steal from stores, and they even got as desperate as armed robbery. I always was the watch man. I didn't want to hold the gun, guns scared me.
But it gave us what we wanted, no needed. What we craved, what made our lives worth living. I still have the long white scars on my wrists from the times I couldn't find a way to get it. Without Heroin I hated life, without Heroin I may as well be dead.
My wrists started to itch when I started to go into withdraws, telling me that it was the only way, telling me that without it I was nothing. My friends and I went to our run down hang out. David came with the supply and I was a bit disappointed that he didn't get any to snort, it had become my favorite way to go it, so I would have to use a needle and be more careful about showing my arms. Oh well.
He passed out the drug and I got my syringe full of my share and blocked off my arm to make my vein more visible. I used to hate needles, but as I pushed it into my vein I had a smile on my face. It didn't take long for it to take effect and when it did I laid back with it still in my arm smiling when things started fading.
I forgot how different the feel of shooting up was from snorting it.
I heard yelling and screaming but I couldn't move. All that mattered was that I got my fix and I felt whole again.
I woke up a few days later in a hospital room with my parents and to my surprise, my brother, sitting in my room. Great, what do they want and why am I here? Were my first thoughts.
"What the fuck is your problem?" my brother, Drew yelled waking my parents and I rolled my eyes
"What are you talking about?" and he looked at me in disbelief
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