Those Three Words

It had been three long weeks since Giselle entered the program. She nervously bit her nails as they sat in another peer group. Today’s topic was: “Why you felt the need to sell yourself- A self-respecting workshop”.

“…So I had to make money. I was in danger of losing my kids, and that’s possibly the worst thing ever.” Roanne said in her country drawl.

“Good. What about you Giselle?” asked the counselor.

Giselle stared at her. She hated her because she seemed so fake. From her blond hair neatly tucked in a bun to her sickly sweet voice. “I whored around to get drugs. Often I did it on a trade basis, as well.” She said quickly. There was no point in candy coating the truth. She didn’t have a sob story like the other patients.

It seemed like most of the other patients did drugs to escape their sad little pathetic lives. While Giselle did it to further enjoy her life. Or did she?

Damn, this place must be working. She thought bitterly.

The counselor looked at her and her smile faltered, “Why did you feel the need to sell yourself for drugs?”

Giselle sat up. She had gained ten pounds since getting into this stinking program. “I’m sitting on a gold mine, at least that’s what I’ve been told. I like drugs. I like sex. So it was the perfect option for me.”

“But now you’ve got to break yourself of that thought. Drugs can kill you. You could end up with and STD, or end up pregnant. Is that something that you really want for you? And what about your family?” asked the counselor as she continued to look at Giselle.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME! FUCK YOU, AND FUCK THIS PROGRAM! I’M OUT!” screamed Giselle as she kicked her chair.

She ran back to her room and began packing up. A few staff members tried convincing her to stay, but to no avail. Soon Giselle had checked out.

She began walking down the road, and it wasn’t long before she got a ride. A few hours later she made it back home. She entered the apartment, half expecting an angry Trent and half hoping that he wasn’t home. “Hello?” she asked softly.

No one replied. Giselle sighed with relief as she put her stuff in her bedroom. Then she went out to find her fix. It had been three long weeks and she was feigning.

Giselle quickly counted her money. She still had over three thousand. She got change and picked up the receiver of a public phone. Her fingers ran across the keypad before depositing the coins.

One ring…

“Hello?” asked a male voice.

“It’s Giselle. I need some stuff. Can I come over?” she asked timidly.

“Sure. Where have you been?” asked Carl.

“Rehab, I quit though so I’m coming over.” She said as she hung up the phone. She knew that she was disappointing Trent, but she needed drugs.

Do I really? She asked herself. She nodded as she felt her heart beating rapidly in anticipation. She just continued to Carl’s house.

Afterwards she had a bit of everything. She had her coke, meth, thizz, Soma’s and even Norco’s.

She snorted most of the coke along with the meth. She popped the thizz, Soma’s, and Norco’s together.

She laid down and felt panicky. Something was wrong, and she knew it. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. The only thing that she could do was cry.

Trent came home. He was angry that Giselle had left rehab. “GISELLE? GISELLE!” he screamed. He entered her room and seen her. She was lying on her back, but she was far too still.

“Giselle?” he whispered as he walked closer to her bed. He had seen all the drugs on the bed.

“Oh, fuck! Giselle?!” he said as he tried to wake her. His eyes began to blur as the tears came pouring out. He slid down the wall and tried to calm himself down.

He stood quickly and ran to the phone and dialed 9-1-1.