30 Days In Rehab

Chapter Two

Day Two:

I can't stop shaking. I haven't had heroin in my system for two whole days. No. I can't do this. I need it. My heart begins to pound fast. Sweat is dripping from every inch of my body. The room is spinning. My sight is blurred. I can't breathe. Feeling myself about to fall, I lean on the wall and slowly slide down. There's nothing here for me to take. Nothing that will help me.

Five minutes later, the feeling dies down a bit. It doesn't fully stop, but it does calm down. I manage to make my way to the phone. My heart's still beating out of my chest. I need help. The only number I remember off the top of my head is Pat. So, I called him. I asked him to bring me something, anything. I just need to get high. This feeling is unbearable. There was something I had to tell Pat, something about the building. He needed a warning.

There is no way they will let you in, bro. Don't worry. I have a plan.

Before the phone call ended, I instructed Pat to meet me by the fence. In the back of the building is an outdoor area where patients are allowed to rest, without being bothered. The fence is 8 feet tall and framed with barbed wire. There was no escaping. Emily told us a story that in 1952, a man tried to escape by pushing himself up and over the barbed wire. When he pushed himself over, the wire ripped open his stomach. He was hanging, 8 feet above ground, by his large intestine. I can sit by the fence with my back propped up against it. Pat can spot me and feed the heroin to me through a hole.

I sit and wait until he finally arrives. I see him. Pat is behind a bush creeping up towards me. I feed my fingers through one of the holes. I feel the bag. Yes! A smile, from ear to ear, is plastered on my face. Finally. I can feel good again.

As soon as I have the full bag in my hand, I hear Pat run. I grab the bag tight and, quickly, pull my fingers back through the hole. I place it in my sock. Looking, to make sure no one sees me, I get up and walk back to my room. I shut the door and pull out the bag.

FUCK!

I wasn't thinking. I have nothing to heat this up with! Damn it! How am I supposed to get high? I hear a voice from behind me! I get so scared, I jump! The bag falls from my hands and lands on the floor. I turn around to see Emily looking at me. Her eyes go from my face, to the bag, then back to my face. She shakes her head. We both dart for the bag, but she grabs it before I do. NO! My only escape and she took it!

Emily ran out of my room and I peeked my head out from the door. I see her talking to some of the staff on duty. Suddenly, they start running towards me. The security officers running towards me, too. Damn it. They caught me. I tried to shut my door, but the security officers were stronger than I was. They pushed it open, causing me to land on the floor. One held me down, while the other put restraints on me. They were treating me as if I were a prisoner. I didn't even realize I was freaking out. They tried to shove some sort of pills down my throat. I didn't even realize I was rejecting it. I started to scratch everyone, causing one of the guards to bleed. When they finally get me restraint, they sedate me.

I woke up to my head spinning and being unable to move. I was in full body restraints, in an unknown room. Emily came to visit me. The whole visit was a lecture. She told me how bad I messed up and that they consider this a suicide attempt. Apparently, I was prescribed a medication, that I wasn't allowed to know the name of. They told me that they were afraid of me knowing the name, because they were afraid I would pull another stunt like this. Fine. I'll give them that one.

Emily told me how ashamed of me she is. However, I couldn't mutter a word to her. The sedation didn't fully wear off, yet. Plus, I was still pissed I didn't get high. See, some people don't think this, because sober people can't, and don't want to, put themselves in a drug addict's shoes, but the high from withdrawal is worse than the high from actually being high. It hurts. It, physically, hurts. I never, ever in my life, felt a pain like this.

To be honest, I never went through withdrawal before. Anytime that I wanted to get high, I just did one simple thing. I got high. This is the worse feeling in the world. I am fucking freezing! There is nothing to keep me warm. Now that I am back in my room, I have to huddle in a corner just to keep warm. It doesn't help that there is no fucking meat on my bones, though.

I used to be 220 pounds. All muscles. I used to be the line baker for my high school's football team. I used to have it all, until I got my hands on heroin. Now, I'm lucky if I weigh 135 pounds. My arms are pencil thin and my veins pop out. Track marks outline my entire body. I have them all over. When I started shooting up, I would use the veins in my arms. Over time, they have become so worn out, that if a nurse needed to take blood from me, she wouldn't be able to. Then, I moved to my legs. I shot up in the back of my knees and the back of my calves. The rush wasn't that big though. I didn't like it and I needed something more. So, I moved to my neck. Shooting in your neck is dangerous, if done improperly. That 's why I would have Pat do it for me. Since, I wanted to get high more frequently, compared to only getting high when Pat was around, I moved to the webs of my toes. One day, I was already doped out of my fucking mind, I decided to shoot up again and miss. I missed the webbing and ended up stabbing the needle right into my toe. Before I realized what I did, I nodded off. The needle was in left in my toe for a whole day. By the time I woke up, my toe was swollen, bruised, and covered in blood. Most people have ten toes. I have nine.

It is now 9:55 at night. Almost time to put the pen and paper down. There is just one thing I have to say though. One day, there will come a time when I will not be able to get high. I don't know if I can live with that. Maybe I can deal with not getting high, but I can't deal with withdrawal. It hurts. I felt like I was dying a thousand deaths. So, if I have to not get high just so I can avoid that pain, I will. I think I may be sickened enough to stop using heroin. The end of an era.