Smack
By louise_d
- 221 reads
The night I first experienced Heroin was a terrifying,horrifying yet
amazing night.I'd been to a 21st party and my so-called friend had
abandoned me in an area I was not familiar with.Some lad,Paul,invited
me back to his flat.Usually I wouldn't even consider going to someone's
flat who I hardly knew,but I was pissed and feeling a little lost and
alone.
The flat;small and dingy.One room containing bed,couch,chairs,TV and
wardrobe.A disgsuting stench filled the room,yet I felt welcome and
safe with Paul.The kitchen left much to the imagination;dirty dishes
everywhere,smashed glass on the floor,tiles missing from the floor.I
was offered a cup of tea (English answer to everything) only there was
no teabags so we drank hot milk.
I sat perched on the arm of a chair wondering how I was going to
explain staying out all night to my parents when Ant (Paul's mate)got
out a small bag.Paul shouted "Not in front of Louise" but by then it
was too late,I was interested.I'd never so much as smoked cannabis
before,but people have always said I'm an extremist.I watched them suck
up the curl of white smoke trailing behind the blob of smack under
which a lighter was held.I was amazed.I wasn't forced to take heroin,no
one knows I ever have.I asked "Can I have a go?"An arguement
commenced,Ant saying I could,Paul screaming that I shouldn't risk
ending up like them,the scum of the earth.Ant won.
All I had to do was suck up the smoke.I was scared I'd be
sick,embarrass myself,but I wasn't.I don't remember much else,just
feeling warm,safer than I have ever felt before,like any pain I had
ever felt was just drifting away from my body,leaving me never to come
back.I felt full of love,just wanting to hold people close to me and
share this incredible feeling with them.
I must of fell asleep.I wake up in bed next to Paul,fully clothed,yet
shivering uncontrollably.I wake him and he laughs at my
come-down,afterall he doesn't stay off the stuff long enough to have
one.I thank him for staying and look around the flat,sober now.The
dirty carpet looks worse sober,there are cig burns all over the
furniture,writing on the walls,hardly any contents in the wardrobe,the
TV doesn't actually wokr,the windows have holes in and the door has
been kicked in.
I leave,feeling like shit.I ahve to work that afternoon.I go in with
terrible crippling stomach cramps,Im shaking.People are concerned
thinking I'm ill,only if I told them the truth they'd back away in
disgust.I integrate back into my comfortable lifestyle and for the
first time feel satisfied with my life.I have all the things I need. I
know that no matter how amazing Heroin made me feel I can never take it
again because even I,in my middle classed comfortable home,with money
to spare, a full fridge and an overflowing wardrobe am not safe from
the pull of Heroin.Once more would mean addiction.
The last thing I heard of Paul was that he was going to get clean and
go to college.I promised to stand by him if that was the case,but it
lasted a day.I think he's living in the South now,but his friends tell
me he's still on Smack.I'd like to thank him though,wherever he is, for
showing me how lucky I am and how dangerous my risk-taking and
adventurous nature is.He has given me the inspiration to succeed,to get
far in life and to do something worthwhile,although he will never know
that.
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