Chloe

An introduction to Chloe and her and her addiction. (Ignore the fact that there are no paragraphs. For some reason it didn't register every time i pressed 'enter')

I looked for the smallest maximum dosage. That's what I always looked for. That meant I could take as little as three and still feel the affects. That meant my pain might last longer. The damage might stay with me longer. The physical damage, I mean. The emotional damage would no doubt linger with me forever.

I walk up to the same register I always do, register eight. I begin to wonder if Marsha has noticed me coming in more frequently tobuy the same things, only of higher strength. Last month, it was Excederin. The next week, Excederin Migraine. This week, Extra Strength Excederin Migraine. In the fine print, always, "Pain Reliever". It almost made me giggle. If only this bottle of tiny capsules could ease the pain. Hell, it was only aiding in causing me pain.

The more pain I felt when I walked into my home, better known as my personal hell, the more I felt I needed these little capsules. To make me feel like my problems weren't so bad. Almost as a punishment for feeling sad about my meek, middle class problems. At least I had a home to feel depressed in. A car to drive to buy my Acetaminophen that I had the money for. I was lucky.

But, without even a second glance from Marsha, I leave the store, holding my addiction in my hands. I had begun to believe that this little bottle of capsules was becoming my future. Every time I walked into that dealer's home, I was digging my future self a deeper hole. As much as I she'd away from drugs as a kid, they were becoming a part of me now. They were my identity. 

So I threw them onto my passenger seat. They seemed to be the only object occupying that spot lately. And then I drive out to The Graveyard. The Graveyard was the place where all the Meth Heads went to get their fix. It was seated conveniently in the middle of Marina, California, but far enough away that no one ever suspected anything. 

I wasn't a Meth Head. Nor was I a Cracker Head or a Pot Head. No. My addiction had no name. I was merely a depressed seventeen year old girl who needed a trip back to reality every few days. And that's what Acetaminophen did for me. I could get it from anything with that special ingredient in it, but I preferred Excederin. It had the smallest max dose. With 500 mg allowed everyday, (thats two capsules), I always took five capsules. That was all I needed. Every time i held that little bottle in front of me, I knew I had the power of taking my own life. I could down this entire thing and I'd be nothing but a memory in only a fee days. But, thats not what I wanted. I just wanted to know I was alive, I guess. I didn't want to die. I popped these pills because I wanted to know that the pain I was feeling wasn't the worst kind of pain out there. There was still poverty and famine and, dare i say it....childbirth! I was merely at the beginning of my lifetime of struggles with my puny, adolescent problems. And if this was where I was at seventeen, imagine where I would be at twenty seven! By then, I'd be a hard core prescription pain killer addict. But, until then, I caused my pain with over-the-counters. I guess thats what set me apart from the other druggies. I was taking my little capsules to feel what Hell was like. They were taking it for Heaven. All of us at The Graveyard knew each other. No one ever got out of their car. Well, no one usually did anyway. There was somewhat of a sex slave trade off every now and then, of which I never participated in. I stayed in my car every time. I looked the doors, took my pills, and I was out. Sometimes I didn't even wait for my high to pass I couldn't take them anywhere but The Graveyard. I felt like I was family there. Even though i didn't know anyone's name, I knew their faces. I knew the crooked smiles they gave me when they saw my truck pull up every few days. They didn't know my name, my story, or my drug, but they felt more like family than my actual family did. They made me feel more welcome than anyone I had known over the course of my short life. After feeling the drugs run through my bloodstream for about an hour, I decided it was time to drive home. IT's almost 2am, but I decide to go to Eric's apartment instead. I leave The Graveyard without a trace and speed down to The Knolls, knowing Eric would still be awake. Either wasting his life away on his XBOX or making some new food with this boyfriend, Gavin. But, either way, I know that when I knock on the door of Eric and Gavin's apartment, one of them will greet me with a hug and a welcoming smile, as they always did. I can still feel my addiction running through my veins when I knock on the door of their apartment. Apartment 8C on the 8th floor of The Knolls apartments. The Acetaminophen is starting to anchor down my liver. This is the feeling I lust for. NOt the high i get after the initial ingesting, but the pain it leaves me in. It makes me want to curl up in a ball on Eric's lap as soon as he opens the door. He lets me in and he knows the look on my face. Eric is my best friend. He's been by my side since we were little kids playing hopscotch in pre school. But, he's all ready eighteen and graduated and I haven't even started my senior year. IT's July and I couldn't be more impatient to be out of high school. Eric grabs my arm to steady me and leads me to their couch. I lay down and start to cry softly as Eric's hands brush my hair away from my face. "Chloe," he says in a soothing voice, "I know I tell you this enough, but you need to stop hurting yourself." He gives me a sympathetic frown and picks up my right arm, red and swollen. They look like cat scratches, but were too uniform for that excuse anymore. Everyone knew, but no one acknowledged them. I begged myself to explain to Eric why I did these things. He thought I did these self destructive things because I was depressed and only because I was depressed. But, what my best friend didn't know was that I needed to feel the pain of a blade cutting through my skin and Acetaminophen permanently damaging my liver. All i could say was, "I know." Eric just nodded and continued to twirl my hair. "I just love you so much, Chloe. I don't want to see you in an early grave. I don't want to have to speak at your funeral. At least not for another sixty or so years. I hate watching you drive yourself to an early grave. You'll be dead before me if you continue this. You won't have a wedding, a husband, kids, or even a life. God d****t Chloe, I hate to admit this, but you hardly have a lie now. And-" "Stop." I held my palm up to his mouth. "I get it. Hurting myself is my life now. I don't want to die. I want to feel pain." I would have sat up at this point but i was in so much pain that moving my mouth to speak to him was almost too much. "Where's Gavin?" Eric sighed. "Asleep." I thought about the spiked lemonade that was illegally taking up space in their fridge. It was calling my name. I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind, but it lingered just like the pain in my abdomen. Then I drifted to sleep on the couch with him, hoping i would still wake up the next morning.

© 2014 Alexandra

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Jake Donald Stephens

Interesting. I never knew an actual pain junkie. I wonder if there is a legitimate reason she is so depressed, or if it's just the way she is? I used to do a lot of drinking and some cutting, back when I felt so alone I couldn't stand it. Now, though.....I read things on writer's cafe and review them instead. It's healthier. :) Interesting. I never knew an actual pain junkie. I wonder if there is a legitimate reason she is so depressed, or if it's just the way she is? I used to do a lot of drinking and some cutting, back when I felt so alone I couldn't stand it. Now, though.....I read things on writer's cafe and review them instead. It's healthier. :) Rating /100

Reviews

[Jake Donald Stephens]

Interesting. I never knew an actual pain junkie. I wonder if there is a legitimate reason she is so depressed, or if it's just the way she is? I used to do a lot of drinking and some cutting, back when I felt so alone I couldn't stand it. Now, though.....I read things on writer's cafe and review them instead. It's healthier. :)