Addicted For Life

I’ve never put much thought into who I would be if I haven’t made the decisions I’ve decided to make in my life. By that I mean having friends and family left to care for me and make me laugh. For the longest time, I haven’t had that. I threw it all away. You know you’ve officially fucked up your life when you gave up everything to a little bag of brown powder, or in other words, heroin. Heroin is what I live off of; it’s taken over me mentally and physically. I don’t even have anyone to call for rehab; my parents gave up on me after my 8th admission to a rehabilitation center. As clear as day I remember them yelling at me that I was nothing but a useless junkie that fed off heroin. I had the grades to go to a great college, and tons of scholarships already waiting for me. I had a loving family: mom, dad, brother, sister, and two little dogs Kiki and Cocoa.

Now I sit alone in my home; an alley.

I fall asleep every night fear of being raped, murdered, or kidnapped by some psychopath. I’ve done some bad things back here. I’ve sold myself to some horny old men for a quick $40, shot up heroin, gave a few blow jobs here and there, and even gotten in fights back here. Junkies normally live off the charts, like this alley; exactly why so many fights broke out. These people would start going through withdrawal because they couldn’t afford to get their latest shot of Heroin, they’d fight the other people for some. Winner takes all of it; loser gets none, unless they’re generous. That doesn’t happen too often though.

There is one man though that pays a visit here now and then; he slips me a few bucks not knowing what I do with it. He thinks I’m just another homeless person, but I’m not. I’m a 26-year-old female junkie that can rightfully be called a whore. The man’s name is Matthew, or he’s called Matt or Matty. He would start a conversation with me sometimes, but always be interrupted by phone calls. We talked for about 10 minutes when he had the chance. Today I was sick as us junkies say. To be sick means to not have heroin, or whatever your drug of choice is, in your body. Your body soon is hungry for it, and you’ll do anything for it.

That’s exactly why I am officially a whore. I was hoping Matt would show his face today—I had feelings for that man. He was the most adorable guy you’d ever see, and he had a big heart. He would walk his little dog to the alley sometimes and hang out with me. I don’t understand how he could take my putrid stench. I haven’t bathed in months, let alone really eaten. My food probably is limited to 3-4 times a week. I’m underweight, and lack nutrients in my body. The only thing that really consumes this empty being is heroin.

I sat up in my makeshift house. It was made of cardboard boxes, old clothing and blankets I found at garage sales, a few small pillows I managed to steal from the furniture store, and some candy I stole from the local CVS. The security isn’t very good here, so it’s easy to get away with nothing nowadays. Despite the fact my ‘house’ made me feel pathetic, it was better than all the other people’s homes in the alley. Finally, there is something for me to be proud of in my life. I looked out into the alley for no sign of Matt. I sat back and closed my eyes, trying to get my mind off my two favorite drugs: Matt and heroin.

I’m out of heroin, great. I haven’t shot up in about 5 hours, I’m dying out here. I rummaged through the so called floor of my wannabe house in hopes to find some money to buy a pinch of heroin off of someone. No luck. I sat down and cried; I’m an emotional mess. God hear me, Nicole, out—I’m a homeless 26-year-old girl who is just begging for at least 5 bucks. That’s enough to at least get a little bit of heroin out of someone. I crawled to the street, seeing as I found a spot to live right near the opening of the alley. A man with brown hair, a gorgeous smile, and tattoos all over looked down at me. I was embarrassed to be seen by such a gorgeous man.

He reached down to me and put out his hand; I looked at him oddly and just accepted his offer. I smelt somewhat decent at this time, I had just showered. How? I sold my body to a 30-year-old horny man. I did it all for a shower and $20. The most fucked up part was the guy had a wedding ring on his finger. I’m the definition of pathetic.

“Hey there, do you live over there?” This mysterious man looked towards the alley.

“Yeah,” My voice was low; I was ashamed to have to admit that to someone.

“Here, take a few dollars,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a 50 dollar bill “I want you to have that, and use it wisely. I’ll stop by now and then and lend you a few dollars. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to live on the streets. Oh, I’m Matt by the way.”Only if he knew how fast that $50 would go.

“I’m Nicole; I really can’t take this from you.” Actually, I would really like to take this from him. My pride is speaking for me.

“Yes you can take it,” He placed it into my hand, and closed my hand into a fist making the money now mine. “I live around here, so don’t expect me to not stop by and give you some money. It’s the least I can do.” I nodded and didn’t even to bother to argue. He would win the fight either way. We spent the rest of the day talking, and I knew somewhere in my heroin infested brain, I was falling for this man.

“Nicole, wake up!” Matt’s voice rung through my ears, my eyes shot open and smiled at the sight of his face. His dog, Bella, was sitting beside him and wagging her tail happily, as if she was excited to see me. Matt had a crisp one hundred dollar bill in his hand, which I assumed was going to be mine shortly.

If only he knew what I do with that money.