My name is ____ and I am an Addict

I have a knack for finding ways of breaking rules, it's just my thing...

So when I saw that pile of white powder, I felt this rush of adrenaline pulse through me like that of a lion finding it's latest new prey.  My fingers twitched excitedly as a guy, who's name I couldn't remember for the life of me, prepared a nice straight line on the table for me and handed me the straw. 

Now, I'm a smart girl, I know right from wrong but that doesn't mean I give a s**t.  When I see "right" I turn left, down beaten dirt paths to god knows where and ride it like it's a roller coaster at Disney.  I loved being on the wrong side, the bad side, it fed my curiousity;

It fed my madness.

Little did I know that once I took that straw and sniffed in that blissful crystal meth that my madness would start feeding on me.  It was a wonderful feeling, my first taste of that drug.  A wave of alertness took over my senses, something I'd never trully got from anything else I'd ever done.  I felt so...

...Free.

This craving for more drove me deeper and deeper into what I guess you'd call addiction; I called it "the devil's obsession" and I loved it.  Yeah, you heard me, I loved it.  I loved every moment that drug took hold of my body, making me eat less and less, and causing me to be awake more and more.  It felt good to me to finally be trully out of control of my life, to give the wheel to Chris (my pet name for the drug) and just lay back and enjoy the ride.  I sure as hell enjoyed that "snorter" for as long as I could before someone noticed a change in me.

She seemed so oblivious of everything I did or maybe even ignored me but suddenly, go figure, my mother spotted the radical difference in my eye dilation and weight.  I hadn't been that skinny little cheerleader before my joy ride and she noticed how I went from 140 something to, oh I don't know, 90 something. 

"Honey, I didn't know you went on a diet," she stated bluntly when she, my older annoying brother, and I were sitting at the dinner table.  I had been picking at my food, munching on a random piece of lettuce instead of the sickingly delicious looking piece of steak that sat, untouched, on my plate.  I glanced up at her, aggitated, as I usually was, as Chris started to slow down on Adrenaline Highway.

"I didn't," I said just as bluntly and started to pick at an annoying radish that kept rolling away from my probbing fork.  The subject was dropped immediately but I had the feeling that this time my mother had actually taken notice that something was terribly wrong;

Something I had yet to notice myself.

Well, I sure as heck started to notice there was a problem when I suffered from my first ever withdrawal.  My mother had dragged me onto one of those dull and annoying family bonding trips to Wyoming, which was painstakingly 1,113 miles northeast of California.  Since we weren't that well off, my mother was teetering on the borderline of middle class and downright poor after my father deserted us two years prior.  My mother had been one of those nice little housewifes, caring for the children while her dear beloved was at work and bringing home the bacon and once my dad left?  Yeah, she was screwed.  Thankfully, though, my mother had actually had an education past high school and could get a job as a teacher at some rickety old ghetto school in San Diego, where we live.  Since she was a teacher, travel was a rare thing but it happened almost every summer and this summer was no different.  We piled ourselves into my mom's used Toyota Corola and started our wonderful trip to Wyoming to "Visit relatives! Visit the sights!", that whole commercial.

So guess what happens to a female of about 98 pounds who can't get her hands on Chris's balls for roughly 48 or so hours, while in a car with her mother and brother?  Well, I had fun going through the roller coaster from hell, definitely not the Disney ride I liked, of restlessness, anxiety, and sleep; all at the same time.

My brother thought there was something absolutely wrong with me, and there was but I refused to acknowledge it.

"Leave me the hell alone," I yelled at him when he kept bugging me about the twitching my hands were doing as I fought to look normal.  My mother drove the car to the side of the road and turned it off, whirling around to face us.  The light was disappearing behind Wyoming's barren landscape and she could only barely make out my shakes.  Her eyes narrowed as she continued to inspect my appearance like a airport checkpoint inspector would a middle eastern man with a mighty beard.  I glared back at her, revolted that she'd suspect the suspectible.

"What?  What the hell are you looking at?" I said, my craving for Chris driving me closer and closer to the edge.  Her eyes widened in the light coming from the dashboard, the sun speedily disappearing. 

"Watch your tone with me, young lady," she snapped back and I cracked, pushing open the door to the car and slamming it shut behind me as I started down the vacant road.  I heard as both my mother's and brother's door opened and then close as they rushed after me.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" My brother yelled as he grabbed my tiny arm.  I jerked my arm back but, feeble as I was, I made no progress.  He stared down at me with wide eyes, not believing how skinny I trully was underneath my baggy clothes.

"None of your damn business!" I growled, still trying to regain my arm.

My mother finally caught up and pushed my brother away from me, standing between us.  She turned her head to me, her breath coming short from running. 

"What has gotten into you?" She asked, horrified.  My brother studied me from behind her and gasped as the truth of the situation sunk into his thick skull.

"She's using," he said, equally horrified.  My mother blinked and stood there, blown back by that statement and then looked at my brother, back at me, back to my brother, and then settling on me.

"What are you using?" She asked, the words forced from her mouth.  Chris, Chris, Chris, my head pounded away.  I glared back at my mother.

"Nothing!" I exclaimed.  My mother just shook her head.

"Don't lie to her," my brother replied angrily. 

"I'm not using," I said, gritting my teeth together, my hands clenching and unclenching. 

"Honey, there's something wrong..." my mother began.

I felt Chris grin within me as he drove me off the cliff of my mind.

"I said I'm NOT USING! F**K!  Why can't you all just LEAVE ME ALONE!" I screamed, clutching my hair with my hands, trying to keep my brain together as it pounded, threatening to shred from all the noise and confusion.

I heard a sob break out from someone's chest and looked up to see my mother with a hand to her mouth, tears running down her cheeks as she looked at me with horror and...

...Hurt.

I stared back at her as I let my own words sink in. Chris, Chris, Chris... Mom, Mom, Mom... Chris...

Why?

I felt something warm on my face and touched my cheek tentively, holding it out in front of me as the liquid shined in the streetlight behind me;

I was crying.

"Mom, I don't know what's wrong with me," I sobbed, my head throbbing, my body aching with exhaustion yet forced awake.  She slowly walked over to me, as if I was some wild untame animal, proceeding with caution.  Seeing that I wasn't going to maul her or something less drastic, like, back away, she wrapped her arms around me.  I caved, resting my throbbing head on her shoulder as I cried. 

That's when I finally realized I had a problem, so here I am and I want to recover.

"Hello, my name is Crystal and I am an addict...

What's your story?"

Reviews

[Lady leah]

Very nicely penned.