prince stephan; Her Story.

 Shit's about to get graphic. We're getting to the intense parts of the story that I've put off writing for awhile.




             "My name is Ellie," she murmured to her feet. "I'm a heroin addict."

             She chewed on her lip, still staring at the ground. "I've been gettin' high since I was about 19. I dated a guy who had just gotten out of rehab and was selling oxycotin. We actually argued about it a little bit, I didn't think he should be selling them if he was supposed to be clean. After a couple weeks though, he got me to try it. Gettin' your naggy girlfriend high is a good way to get her shut up, y'know?" She laughed softly.
          "One day our OC dealer stopped answering. He'd been selling his mom's extras, but her script had ran out so we couldn't get anything. I had never experienced anything like that. My whole body hurt, I was hot and cold and thought I was never going to stop feeling like I had to throw up. I didn't understand what was going on until my boyfriend told me about being dope sick. See, I didn't know you got sick when you didn't have it because we always had it y'know? So he called his old dealer and we drove to the city. That was the first time I ever snorted heroin. Holy shit the feeling was... amazing. So much better than the pills. Within seconds I went from feeling sick to feeling awesome. It got bad pretty fast after that. The next almost year we spent together we were high the entire time. At that point, I was still just snorting it. We finally broke up when he decided that he'd been bad for me. He thought that if I didn't have him to get it for me that I wouldn't be able to get any. I thought so too, for a total of maybe three awful days. It's amazing how readily available the shit is."
           "Fast forward to about three years ago. Keep in mind I'd been doing opiates pretty consistently up until then, but I was what I considered to be a "functional addict". If I couldn't find dope I'd do pills, but I of course preferred the real deal. I was still just snorting it and supporting my own habit with my paychecks. Okay so, three-ish years ago is when it reached a new level of shitty. My friend comes to my apartment one day and says, 'I know we said we'd never do it this way... but you have to try it at least once. It's the fucking shit and I really think you're gonna like it.' She then proceeds to pull a rig out of her purse. A rig would be a syringe, for those of you who don't know. It took her all of 15 minutes to convince me. It hurt the first time, but a few seconds later I completely forgot about that. When it hits you it's like a thousand orgasms all over your body, happening all at the same time. I was gone after that. My paychecks stopped supporting my habit. I started conning my family and friends out of money. I sold my DVD player, my stereo, even shit that wasn't mine. I'd go to my friends houses, take their shit, then go pawn it. My friend and I became an expert shoplifting tag team. We'd hit every Walmart in an hour radius and end up with $500 in a couple hours."
          "Still, there were times when the money just wasn't coming in. I put myself in some seriously fucked up situations to score. Our dealer was in the deepest parts of the ghetto and we were out there 3 or 4 times a day. I started driving him around the neighborhood to deal so he'd give me shit. I'd go to the other side of town and pawn shit he'd stolen the night before.
           Now I can honestly say I never sold myself for drugs, it seems even in the midst of my fucked-up-ness I still had some sort of moral code... but that didn't stop me from convincing my friend that it was okay for her to do. There was one night when I knew I had hit the ultimate low. We were in a straight up project. The guy lived in an abandoned building with blankets over all the windows. He stole his power from one of the buildings next door with an extension cord. We sat with only the light of a tiny ass t.v. lighting the room. My friend and I had $50 between the two of us, which was just enough to keep us from getting sick. The guy, who we'd only  met one other time, offered to give us an entire gram if my friend would fuck him. She looked at me and asked me what I thought and... I'm ashamed to say I told her to go for it. I should have told her no, we should have left right then. But I was so worried about getting my high that I didn't give a fuck. I told him he had to pay up first though. So she got her fix and went to the other side of the room and laid down on an old twin mattress. I sat in front of the t.v. and cooked up my shit. The really, really fucked up thing is that I couldn't hit it. So I walked over there and had her shoot me up in the middle of all of it."
          She stared at the floor, tears brimming in her eyes.
          "I'm so ashamed. I've never told anyone that before. A few months later I met the most amazing person. I thought I'd finally found a person to save me. He was probably the only person in the world who has ever actually loved me for me. He let me move in with him right away and we had one of those sickeningly sweet relationships that makes other people jealous. But my addiction got the better of me. I was lying and going behind his back to get high all the time. Eventually, shit hit the fan. A girl I knew overdosed. I was part of the investigation and they raided our house." She paused. "He never really forgave me after that."
          Tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry, I can't talk anymore." She stumbled around the folding chair, causing it to screech against the tiles and ran for the door.