Perfect Life

I couldn’t concentrate anymore; that horrible sickening thudding that came from the apartment above; it was constant, loud, making me crazy. I guess I should have expected that. I had been out of meth for almost twenty-four hours. I was starting to go through the early stages of withdrawal, sweating, my heart racing, feeling like I am going to die. That incessant thumping, in reality can’t be more then someone walking around their house, perhaps pacing.

No one will answer their phone. People who I know for a fact they have meth. My love, my sweet, sweet meth; I need it. Besides pacifying the withdrawal symptoms, it comforts me. I have no family left, none that will speak to me. My friends are all junkies. All I have left is my dearest drug. This life is being perpetuated by these facts.

I used to think I was attractive, fair skin, long blonde hair. I was always very popular with the boys. I was a good student, responsible, all that goes along with the “perfect life”. That has all faded away now. My green eyes are sunken in now and dull. My fair skin is pasty, covered in scabs. My beautiful long blonde hair is falling, it is now lack luster and scraggly.  That’s the price I have paid to have my drug, and what I continue to pay.

I keep calling my dealer, and still no answer. “Why ain’t you answering fool?”

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

I’ve called what seems like a million times. The anger is building, the withdrawal is getting worse. There is a knock on my door. I look out the peep hole to see who it is. I never open the door before I know who is on the other side. It could be the police; I do have a warrant out for my arrest. A rush of relief fell over me when I saw it was Jesse. I unlatched the door, and he came in.

“I’m here to save you, but it’ll cost you,” he said smirking. I knew what he meant, and I bowed my head, and lead him to my bedroom, where he would receive payment. 

-Zombiegirl