The Broken Necklace

Some days the comedown is harder than others, you know? In my opinion I shouldn't be coming down at all. So what If didn't want to shag that guy? Can't I have one day off and still get it? I always do what he wants and I'm so sick of it.

I didn't think I'd ever fall head over heals in love you know, a girl like me, I had my head screwed on straight, I was gonna go to college and everything. But then I met him and he led me to Mephedrone. That was it. I fell I love.

After the first time I... you know, earned it, I had to leave home. I could see it in my mums eyes, she knew. That look of disappointment was just too much. Yeah that probably makes me a coward, but so what? Wouldn't you be too?

You see Sean, he told me I was the one, I was his girl. Should known it was a joke, I met him in a f*****g chip shop, if that wasn't enough of a sign. So yeah, we saw each other for about 2 months before he started me on the drone. It was nice, sharing the experience with someone special, you know. I'd say about a month or so after my mum started acting funny around me, eyeing me up and that, noticing I was always out, losing weight etc. She didn't say s**t though. That's the problem though, no one ever says the s**t they mean. Sean was the same.

First time he said to me that if I loved him I'd help him out, I was running up a debt with all that gear and I gotta pay my way sometime. It was a one off you know. So I did it. I wont let it hurt me though. I try not to think about that stuff, just gotta keep it alive, keep the buzz going. After about a dozen times he stopped telling me it was a one off, I just did it. I had no choice. Like I said, you have to keep the buzz going.

So me and my mum started arguing, I was hardly at home by that point, and when I was my head wasn't really there. She kept telling me I was throwing my life away. I didn't want to hear it, because I don't want a life, I just want a buzz. So I left.

Sean set me up with a little flat right, he has a room to the side I can't go in, he keeps all his important stuff in there, but you know I'm crawling. He hasn't given me a thing and I need something, so I go in.

I have to bash at the lock a bit, he doesn't trust me, he always says you can't trust an addict, but you know what? F**k him. After a while the door gives, I walk in to a room of the unfamiliar.

It's dead organised. Especially compared to the squat I call a room. Nothing thrown on the floor, everything stacked dead careful, like it actually means something and I think... He must keep it in here.

I start on the pristine sofa, doesn't look like a persons sat on it, purely for decoration. Sofas are good places to hide things, you lose so much s**t down the back of the seats you could easily shove a couple grams down there. I pull the cushions off, scrabbling my arms down into the depths. My desperation urging a bought of adrenaline.

Nothing.

Not a crumb in sight.

I stare round frantically, I don't know where to go next. I know he's gonna lose it over this, that I've gone through all his private stuff, but what did he expect? The fact that he thinks I would just sit there and not want more is insane. He must have known I'd get like this, he probably wanted me too, that's probably why the lock wasn't more secure.

My eyes settle on the stack of boxes, I lift the first one off and begin to scrabble at the ductape wrapping. Why do they make them so damn hard to get off? Sweats trembles as I attack the sides of the cardboard with my nails, it slowly tears, the box gives, contents spilling out on the floor.

Watches.

Why the f**k would you keep a box full of watches?

I sigh and drop the box, moving on to the next. This time I manage to find the tapes seam. I tug it off.

Wrapped up are sets of lingerie.

I feel like I'm losing my mind, why has he got boxes of such pointless s**t, he's just a dealer you know, you aren't exactly gonna make top money selling bra's and knock off watches. I wonder if he just put this stuff in here to make me lose it, to f**k with my head. That's so like him, he's all about that control, If he hasn't got control he hasn't got s**t.

I open the next box. Finding the seam with ease.

It's bags.

Bags and bags of the stuff. I never knew he had so much.

He tells me he's in this small time, like he can't afford to pay for me because he doesn't have much himself. This is so much. Kilos of the stuff. How?

I want to think and work out what's going on here, but all I can see is my next bit, you know right in front of me.

I rack up.

I feel better.

As the room around me stops spinning and my head stops banging I feel clear again. Like I can finally see properly. This isn't right and what's more, he's gonna f*****g kill me for touching his s**t.

He would never let me have the keys, he'll just lock me in for days on end, just so he knows I wont run, I wont find someone else, but there's got to be some keys here somewhere.

I open the desk and it suddenly dawns on me, he'll be back soon. I don't have much time. I scrabble through, feeling papers rustling, plastic crushing between my fingers.

Then a soft metal chain.

I pull it out, it's a necklace, silver I think. The clasp is broken, a tiny butterfly charm droops off. It's limp and devoid of life, of all connection to this world.

It hits me.

I'm not the only one.

I find the keys further down.

I grab some bags.

I leave.

I never come back.