Drug Addiction Stories

The day he found me in an alley is one I barely remember. I could hear a voice, vaguely make out a face yet I could not tell you what he said that day to save my life. Which is ironic because that is just what he did. 

I was later in a part of the jail block that kept me under medical supervision. I was coming down off of my latest high and could not tell you what day it was. I had not spoken to my family in ages. I was only 19 and I was a heroin addict. My family had enough of all the drama and had frankly told me not to come back unless I was clean.

When the officer approached me, I figured it was with the evening meal or something just as common with jail house rules and all. He asked if I remembered him. I looked at his face and shrugged no.

“I was the one who found you in the alley four days ago. You were pretty messed up, Son.”

I had some heroin in my pocket and because of that they were holding me. The officer had ran my background and was pleasantly surprised that even though I was an addict, I had not committed any crimes aside from that. It had been my first offense.

He came to see me every day and we talked more and more after I got over my initial wariness. When I was called before the judge after my detox, I was asked where I intended to go and told I would be court-ordered to attend rehab. Then a voice from the back asked “May I approach the court, Your Honor?”

I turned and it was the police officer who had found me and arrested me. He came forward and said he would like to take responsibility for me if I could be released to him. He would take me directly to rehab and assured the court that I would meet its requirements. The judge asked “Are you sure you want to do this, Officer Malone?” He said yes.

Officer Malone drove me to rehab. He visited me and when I got out he took me to his home and showed me the guest room. Then he helped me get a job in a sporting goods store at the mall. I stayed clean and on my birthday, I received a call from my parents. They said Officer Malone had kept them current on my whereabouts and condition. I told them I wanted to stay in Colorado and did not want to return to New Mexico and they understood.

After I got off the phone, I asked Officer Malone why he had gone to so much trouble for a drug addict. He pointed to a picture of two young teen boys. “That’s me and my brother. He got messed up on drugs while in high school and overdosed. You look a lot like him and by helping you, I felt like I was doing what I did not have the power to do back then for him.”

My life turned around that day in the alley because of Officer Malone. I am now in college and was recently made assistant manager of the sporting goods store. Passing out in that alley was the best thing that could have happened.

When she moved in next door, I have to admit I was ecstatic.  She was a beautiful young teenager and the perfect age to be a babysitter for my young daughters who were in kindergarten and first grade.  As I took a pitcher of lemonade and some homemade cookies over to introduce myself the girls insisted on going with me.  April, the teenager smiled as she saw them coming over.  Her face lit up and as she confided in me after we got to know each other, she told me she had always wished for a sibling.

April soon became part of our family.  I learned that she lived with her mother and stepfather and that her mom had been unable to have more children following her birth.  I also picked up on her dislike for her stepfather but I did not know why.  April started babysitting for me on a regular basis and bonded with my two young girls.  She would even sleep over and as a single mom who worked two jobs I appreciated that.

One time, April’s stepfather said the girls could stay over but when I saw the look on April’s face I said it would be easier if they could just sleep in their own beds.  Over time, I began noticing changes in April.  She was eating like crazy, and things started to go missing around the house.  I told her she was too pretty to start eating like that but she said she actually hoped she could get fat so “he” would leave her the hell alone.  When I asked who he was, she would not answer.

One night I caught April in my purse. I had begun to suspect she was on something and she confessed it was heroin.  I walked her home and talked to her mother.  Her stepfather was at work at a local manufacturing plant.

A couple of days later, I heard screaming and went in the backyard in time to see April hitting her stepfather with a shovel.  My two daughters were in their yard.  April was screaming “Stay away from them, you asshole!  You are not going to touch them or I swear I will kill you, you son of a bitch!”

Someone heard the commotion and called the police.  When they got there, they arrested April for assault.  She kept begging me to keep the girls away from her stepfather.  It came out after she saw him with his arm around one of my daughters that she had been abused by him for several years.  The heroin was her way of dealing with it and getting through it.  However, she did love my daughters and could not stand the thought that he might hurt them too.

The charges against April were dropped and she was sent to a treatment program.  Her stepfather was charged with several counts relating to the sexual and physical abuse of April.  She moved in with some relatives in another town but she calls and lets me know how she is doing and the girls love talking to her on the phone.  I cringe when I think of that dirtbag stepfather of hers touching one of my little girls but I am thankful that in the end, April’s love for my girls stopped her nightmare of abuse and she got clean.

The holidays are starting.  I hate the holidays.  Ever since my friends and I went cruising that night ten years ago.  We were just having a good time. Why am I the only one who survived?  We were riding up and down Main Street checking out friends from school and having fun.  When Sheryl went to make the turn, that damn truck never stopped and everyone died but me.  Some of our friends sitting on the side of the road saw it.  I will never forget it.  We had won our big football game against our rivals the night before and everyone was in high spirits.  I never saw Sheryl and Patsy again.  By the time I was let out of the hospital, they were buried.

It isn’t fair!  I hate this time of year.  I know there are about ten messages on my phone from my parents and brother and friends, but I am not going home.  I got out of there as soon as I was old enough.  I do not date.  I barely function outside of work.  I just want to drink and forget about that night.  I take my pot, I take my vodka and to hell with the rest of the world from Friday afternoon to Monday morning.  I do my time as a teller and jump for joy every time there is a holiday so I can have an extra day off to be alone.

I feel so bad this time of year, so guilty.  Sometimes I think about killing myself on the anniversary of Sheryl and Patsy’s deaths.  How could this happen to them? We were all going to graduate and move to California so Sheryl could be an actress and Patsy could write and I could design buildings.  Now all I design are vodka bottles two high except they fall down.  I can’t even do that right.

I think maybe I will do it this year.  I will end it all.  I will just take myself out of this miserable existence  some prankster called fit to call life.  Freaking phone is ringing again.  I am not answering it.

OMG!  My sister in law said my brother needs me.  He is in the hospital!  What the hell?  I gotta go. I have to get there.  My brother?  He is the strongest person I know!   What the hell happened to him?  I have to call a freaking taxi!