Literally Do or Die

I tried so hard to get in one last hurrah.  I called everyone I knew and asked if they had anything. Blues, greens, H. I even asked for Percocets and Vicodin. Somehow every single drug dealer I knew was off the grid. No where to be found.  WTF.  I found one person. One girl who I had done time with a few months previous.  She said she had one blue (A blue is a 30 mg Oxycodone).  I made up some lie to my mom saying this girl owed me money and that I HAD to stop by some apartment she was going to be at on the way.  I could tell mom was leery.  I did not care.  I was desperate.  We pulled into the parking lot and I jumped out and handed this girl all the money I had in the world. Thirty five dollars.  She knew I was desperate and she knew where I was going so she jacked up the price.  She took the money and said she would be back in two minutes.  I got back in the car.  After 30 minutes I realized I had been ripped off.  My heart skipped a beat...or a few.....reality was setting in.  I finally told mom to forget it......it's over.
Five minutes later we pulled in.   I had never even noticed this building in all my years of living  in this town.  It didn't look inviting to me at all.  Mom walked me in and we said  our goodbyes.  Panic.  WHAT DID I DO....NO WAIT....NO.....I CHANGED MY MIND!  I was quickly reminded that if I truly did change my mind they would call my PO and I would wait here for a police officer to come pick me up and put me back in jail.  Mother Fucker, man.  I am being checked in and they are going through my belongings. Whatever.  I don't care about anything.....I am starting to feel really sick.  I start thinking about how I'm going to hunt that bitch down when I get out of here. They ask me for my purse.  I am shaking at this point....not out of anger....but withdrawals are getting real. (Well, anger too)  They take my purse.....a purse I was super proud of...a D&G purse I had traded some heroin for a few weeks earlier. It made me feel classy when I was walking down the street barefoot, high AF, wearing minimal clothing and dirty AF.  So they take my purse and dump the contents out on the counter.  Out comes a syringe.....a spoon....a pair of panties.....and that's it.  That's all I had.  They disposed of the syringe and the spoon and asked me if I wanted the rest of my belongings.  What.....my panties?  No.....it's cool.....throw them out too.....I am completely empty inside just like my D&G purse.  I have nothing.  And I'm going to puke.  I don't want to do this.  I love heroin.  I want to leave.  I want to go find my boyfriend who is out there somewhere getting high.  It's not fair. The only thing I can think to do is be a disrespectful jerk. What's that?  Oh I can't have a cigarette....k..I'm walking out the door to go smoke.  Be back when I'm damn good and ready.  If I have to be here I'm not going to do it peacefully.  If I get myself kicked out I might have enough time to get well before the cops find me and haul me back to jail. And at least in jail I can find drugs.
 After a couple hours of being checked in and me fighting every single Person trying to help me, I was taken to my room.  I threw my things down and got into my tiny single sized bed.  It was actually super nice and comfortable compared to the places I had been sleeping. (Couches, floors, and outside on the ground). I fell asleep for a few hours (When you get a few hours into withdrawal you can't sleep anymore so I knew I had to take what I could) and then the real pain began. I knew what I was in for. The fear of the pain of coming down off of heroin is enough to make anyone do.....well....anything, but somewhere in my mind I knew that even though I was fighting this with all of my being.......this was my new home.  I knew I couldn't go on the way things were.  My girls had been gone for 7 months. I had gone too far.  This was my last chance and I absolutely had to take it.....for my girls.