Categories > Original > Drama1 Reviews
A girl born addicted to heroin, she grows older and has a taste of the drug she was addicted to at birth. Her addiction never left, it was lurking around the corner. She quickly reunites with her d...
"If I can get it in correctly, it shouldn't bleed that much," Jamie told herself quietly. She carefully poked the needle into her jugular vein; it stung. She hissed in her breath, and held it as she pushed the plunger. A sense of warmth shrouded her body, and she slid the needle out of her neck. It dropped to the floor with a plink!, and rolled under the door. Jamie slid down the back of the door, feeling normal again. The rusty spoon she cooked the bliss in sat next to the cotton ball she had retrieved the bliss from. Everything looked so serene; the walls ebbed and the sharp corners of her eyesight blurred. She closed her eyes, letting the drug take over her body.
When she opened her eyes again, her life flashed before her eyes. She knew she wasn't dying; this was more of a movie of her life played very quickly. She experienced this a lot while on the drug. She saw herself as a baby, crying hysterically, begging the men and women in white for the blissfulness she received from her mother in the womb. They responded by pricking needles into her, drawing blood, and putting her in a white box. Everything was white. White, white, white. She looked around and screamed. It took three painful days before she could finally open her eyes without being in searing pain. She became a happy little baby, and a healthy one at that. Her mother was no longer sitting in the white bed next to the white box. She had long left. Instead, a woman with bushy hair and a man with a buzz cut stood looking in the white box down at her. She became scared and started crying. The woman picked her up and held her against her cotton shirt. She quickly quieted down as the woman murmured soothing words into her ears. The man smiled behind the woman. She left with the man and the woman that day.
Jamie woke up with a start, accidentally kicking the spoon and the cotton ball across the floor. She sighed, and stood up. She walked into her bedroom and fell onto her rumpled bed. Her eyes closed, and she nodded off once again.
She opened her eyes and saw another snippet of her life flash by. Jamie saw herself as a young child, around six years old, running around the large house with two puppies and three other children fast behind her. She soon learned these children were her siblings. The woman with the bushy hair, her mother, suddenly stood before her.
"Come here, Jamie." She picked Jamie up and took her away from everyone else. Jamie started whining and voicing her complaints, to which her mother slapped her on the head. She started screaming, and was thrown onto her mother's bed.
"Mommy, stop!" Jamie saw herself scream. Her father was suddenly behind her mother, holding his belt. He slapped it against his hand, and she winced at the noise. Her mother held her down, her face buried in a pillow, while her father slapped her bottom and back repeatedly with the belt. She was crying and screaming as loud as she could, but they wouldn't stop. After twelve whips, her mother picked her up by her arm and threw her out of the room. She landed on her face on the floor, and received a few scrapes from her landing. Tears still streaming down her face, she ran to her bedroom and cried.
Jamie woke up crying. Her parents had abused her ever since that day. She never knew why they hurt her like that. She resented them and hated them with a passion. She wiped her tears and went to her stash of cotton balls. She squeezed out heroin residual, and cooked it in the spoon. She drew it up in her needle, and stood in front of the mirror. Here I go again, Jamie said to herself as she poised the needle at her neck. She slid it in, wincing, and pushed the plunger all the way down. She took the needle out, dropped it, and fell back onto her bed. She fell asleep instantly.
Jamie once again saw herself as a young child. She saw herself around age thirteen. Her father walked right up behind her and grabbed her by her arms. He wrapped his hand over her mouth, so her screams went unnoticed. He dragged her into his dark bedroom and threw her on his bed. He ripped his clothes off, then ripped hers off.
"Daddy please, not again," Jamie saw herself say. Her father shoved a sock into her mouth and had his way with her. Jamie saw tears stream down her face, heard herself scream in pain, saw herself bleed. Once he was finally finished, he haphazardly put her shirt and jeans back on, put his own clothes back on, and threw her out of the room. She landed with a thud on the hardwood floor, crying. She raced into her bedroom and slammed the door. She walked right into her bathroom, turned the light on, and grabbed her razor. She disassembled it, and took one razor blade. She pressed it to her forearm, and dragged it across her flesh. Tears mixing with blood, she fell onto the floor and sobbed.
Jamie woke up crying, again. She reached underneath her bed and picked up her trusty razor blade. She had taken it from a razor head, like she'd been doing since she was thirteen. Her arms were scarred terribly. Instead she put the razor blade to her stomach and dragged it through her flesh. Blood slowly trickled down her legs, and it smeared to everything around her. Tears blurring her vision, she walked into the bathroom of her dismal apartment and looked into the mirror. She gripped the sides of the sink counter. Her face scarred with scabs, her neck filled with track marks, tears and mascara cascading down her face, tracked and cut arms, cut stomach, tracked and cut legs, and welts all across her chest was all she saw. Disgusted, she slammed the door shut and heaved sobs into her scarred hands. She looked at the clock on the wall, four a.m. She trudged over to her bed and closed her eyes, twitching at the images she kept receiving.
Jamie saw herself at age nineteen, finally leaving the house she was brought to as an infant. She had just learned she was adopted at birth, and her mother was a heroin addict. She dragged her bag full of belongings, rubbing the new welts on her arms that her father had just given her. She sighed, and got into her friend Gary's car. Gary started the ignition, and pulled out of the driveway.
"Why the long face? You're finally getting away from that hell hole you were raised in. You don't have to live in torment any longer."
"Yeah, but the only thing I'll live with now is the memories they've given me, all those years of constant abuse..." Jamie murmured. Gary was the only one she had told her secret to, and he had never let it slip once.
"If you want, you can stay with me. I've got a coupla friends staying with me."
"No thanks, Gary. I'd rather just marinate in my own thoughts for a while."
The rest of the car ride was silent. Jamie fiddled with the straps on her bag, looking out at the rainy scenery. She shivered as her mind raced through the first time she was hit by her parents, raped by her father, and abused by them. She couldn't remember all the horrible things they'd ever said to her. When she got a boyfriend for the first time, they called her a rotten little whore and beat her senseless. She never dated after that one.
Jamie saw her dream skip a few years, for she was now sitting in her current apartment. A guy came by and slapped her just like her mother used to slap her. She tolerated it, because he was bringing her the one thing she had been meaning to try since she learned it was in her system the moment she was born. He dropped off the gram and left with her money. She took a spoon out of the drawer and a lighter from the cabinet. She cooked a fourth of the gram in the spoon and clumsily drew it up in a needle. She poised it at her vein in her left arm, and poked it into her vein. It went in sloppily, and she had to re-do it a few times before she hit the vein. She pushed the plunger to the base slowly, and took the needle out. At first, nothing really happened. Then, she felt a sense of serenity, and she sighed with relief. It was the first time she felt at peace in more than fifteen years. And it felt wonderful.
Jamie woke up and replayed the dream in her head again. It was the only part that she didn't mind. She was away from those people, and she had heroin.
Jamie woke up. 2 pm, the clock flashed. She opened her eyes wearily, blinking at the sunlight pouring into her apartment. She stood up and crossed the room, drawing the shades together. The room was quickly enveloped in darkness. She let her breath out in a few shaky gasps before making her way into the bathroom. As she sat on the toilet, she happened to notice a picture of Gary sitting on the sink. Her heart twisted at the painful memory of losing him to suicide. He was tormented after he came out that he was gay, and he couldn't handle the pressure of living anymore. She lost her only human contact that day, except for the drug peddlers. What was worse is she found him hanging from that rope attached to his closet door. It completely ruined any innocence she might have had left. She kept the rope he died on, untying it so it wasn't a noose anymore. She also found a suicide note in his jeans pocket, and kept that.
Once she was finished, she threw on some clean clothes and left her apartment. She put sunglasses over her sullen eyes and walked down the block to a drug dealer's house. A big man greeted her at the door.
"Jamie, you fine piece of shit! I assume you've come to get your smack?"
Jamie nodded weakly, and was escorted inside. She knew she'd have to go through hell before she got her relief. Ben walked in then. He was a very tall Puerto Rican man who hogged all the heroin. He wouldn't give her anything unless she got him off. It was better than trying to scrounge up money that she didn't have for him.
"Mornin' Jamie! Been looking for you lately," Ben said, a disgusting smile creeping across his marred face.
"Hi, Ben. Do you have my heroin?" Jamie asked quietly. She wasn't really a loud speaker.
"Sure do, pretty thing. You know the drill," Ben said, unzipping his pants. Jamie tried not to cry as she got on her knees and got him off. Once he was finished, she stood up, on the verge of tears, and looked up at Ben. "Can I have my heroin now, Ben?"
"Here you go," Ben said, handing her a large packet of heroin. "This stuff's not pure. Think it's laced with some benzos. Be careful."
Jamie nodded at him and hurried out of the worn down house. She skirted gangs on the streets and cops on the street corners. She raced up the stairs leading towards her apartment and locked the door behind her. She fell onto her bottom and started sobbing.
Jamie woke up with a needle laying next to her. All at once her whole body felt like it had been set on fire.
"Oh my God!" Jamie screamed, tears falling out of her eyes without even crying. A huge spasm ran through all of her muscles at once. She curled up into a fetal position and screamed off the pain. She gagged once, and vomit came rushing out of her mouth. She felt like she was being choked. She gasped for breath, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The last thing she remembered doing was coughing, before everything went black.
Jamie opened her eyes slowly. Everything was so bright. She felt her heart race. She must have died. The memories flooded back of the overdose she had. She gasped, and felt pain radiating throughout her body. She felt a needle in her arm, and sighed. Somebody must have heard her screaming and called the ambulance. Wouldn't be the first time. Jamie noticed she was being given morphine through the IV. She took the dropper out of the tube and felt the morphine rush into her veins. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt herself slowly falling asleep. The last thing she heard was the heart monitors flat line, and then she slipped into a very deep sleep.
A/N- Decided to try something different. Tell me what you think!