Alarm Clock

A Story by Chelsea

I took a psychology class last year. My senior year of high school. My teacher wanted us to write like a diary of what we though a drug addict would write in their journal. Here's my paper.

December 21, 2007

I turned over to the alarm clock to see the neon green numbers, and read six am. I groan, and turn back over on my stomach and try to fall back asleep. I only went to sleep two hours ago with the taste of vodka in my mouth; it left a funny after taste along with a headache. I don’t want to go home for Christmas break, but my family is expecting their young bright son to walk through the door with a happy fixated smile. I have to put on act for all of them so their Christmas isn’t ruined with another disappointment by me. My days have been ruined since Thanksgiving thanks to Michelle. Michelle didn’t even wait a month before finding another man to replace me. She lied to me through our high school days. I was never enough for her and I knew it and so did she. I gave up drugs for her, and I lost my baseball scholarship and possibly pitching for the major leagues because of her.

I can’t sleep, and I smell like alcohol. I get up to take a cold shower and finish putting my s**t in my suitcase.

“Hey, Chris,” Michael called from the kitchen while he finished making breakfast. I can smell the scrambled eggs and toast being made on the stove by my roommates. Our last breakfast together for a month, but I don’t think I can eat from all the cocaine I did last night and the amounts of hard liquor I poured into my body. The smell of the food is making me want to gag, and I run into my bathroom and I hear Michael knocking on my door and calling my name.

“What?” I asked between gagging into the toilet. He comes up to the bathroom door to ask me if I’m okay and I just nod. He knows what I’ve been doing. He’s my roommate; he’s seen me do a line of coke on our coffee table so I could stop shaking from withdrawal. He’s seen the drug dealer come to the door and ask if I was home. He saw me give the guy the money, and rush into my bathroom to do line after line. He’s asked me to stop plenty of times, but I can’t. I need to have that rush that makes me feel alive. I crave it when I’m awake and I crave it in my dreams.

“Chris,” he calls out to me again, but I can’t look at him. I don’t feel like having another talk, I want to get the hell out of here and call Reid. He’s got to have the white little bag by now. I can start to feel my withdrawal. My hands are starting to shake, and my mind is starting to race about that little powdery bag.

“Chris,” he calls out again to me and I just nod. He looks at me from the doorway and says, “You need some help. Why don’t you go to the clinic? The guys and I will take you. We’ll call your parents, and you can get a new start. It’s better if you do it. Who care’s about Michelle? There are plenty of girls who would go out with you here you just need to get off the drugs.”

“I’m fine, Mike. Just back off,” I bark at him. I flush the toilet and wipe my mouth with a towel. I brush my teeth to spit out the rest of my vomit. Then I shove him past my doorway to get ready to pick up Reid. I start shoving all my clothes in my bags, still shaking.

“I don’t mean to get you angry Chris, we’re just trying to look out for you. Your parents would rather have you in a clinic than overdosing on Christmas! Come on, think about your little sister!”

I turn to face Mike, and see that he’s really concerned for me and the other guys are standing at my doorway hoping they’d help me. I’m glad I have friends who will look after me, but I can’t help my addiction. I want the cocaine in my system, and I hear my phone vibrate on my nightstand. I know it’s Reid and he has the bag.

“Look Mike, I’m fine. I just need to get some more coke to make me feel better. I know what I’m doing.” Mike turned around for the guys to give him some support, but their faces were silent. They knew I made up my mind and they can’t change it once it’s set.

“Merry Christmas, Chris. Try and be safe over break. We don’t feel like looking for a new roommate,” they told me in a joking tone.

“Merry Christmas guys,” I counter before they walk away to eat their cold breakfast.

Mike looks at me quizzically and finally accepts that I’m not going to change anytime soon and steps up to hug me.

“Have a good Christmas. Try to stay safe, alright?” he asks me.

“I’ll try. Have a good Christmas Mike. Tell the family I said hi, and I’ll see you after break.”

He nods and walks out of my room and shuts the door. I finish packing, and hear my phone vibrate again. I zip up my last bag and go over to my phone to see Reid’s name flashing on my cell phone.

“Hey Reid!” I answered into the phone.