I´m writing this story not to scare you. No. Just to show you things which nobody really can talk about, because they didn´t really feel it at their bodies. Just to tell you my story. And just the way out of hell.
I started with cannabis when I was 16. It made me laugh. My problems at home, in school, with friends seemed so far away. Everything seemed so nice, lovely, made of cotton wool. Every one of my friends did it. First I just wanted to be in. To be cool. But later I needed it. I was not able to go to school without a joe. I wanted to have a clear mind, but most of the time I couldn’t concentrate during the lesson.
I never met my dad. Last year my mother told me, that he had been shot by a police officer. *shake shoulder * I don´t mind.I was not sad about this. No. But angry. Because he had never come up to me to say “Hey, I´m ya daddy. You´re my son, I´m very proud of you.” But that´s another story.
My mum was an alcoholic. She needed to drink in the morning to get out of bed. And there was my sister, Jennifer. She was 9 years old. I always was her bodyguard. She was a cute, lovely and most of time a happy girl. I think she didn´t realize that Mum had a drinking problem.
Jennies mind, her brain had been damaged since her birth. Some people said that she was silly- but she only learned in a different way than the kids in her class. Every day I took her home from school. We lived in a poor quarter of our city. The crime rate was very high. Every day somebody got robbed or knocked down by some crazy teenagers, who lived in gangs. I didn´t want Jennie to go home alone. I wanted to protect her from every evil in our district. I knew it would never work, but I tried it. Jennie was my angel, maybe my baby.
And there was this day, shortly before my 16TH birthday. Jennie was playing out on the street. I was sitting in my room and wanted to learn. But my thoughts were somewhere but not in my mind. The day before I had seen a girl, looking like an angel. She reminded me of Jennie. Black hair, big blue eyes. Eyes like a sea, so that you can´t see the ground. My heart was beating. Suddenly I heard a bang. Thought of Jennie. Ran to the window. Saw Jennie lying on the street. Bleeding out a wound in her forehead and bleeding out of her ears. Tears were running down my cheeks. I can´t remember how I got downstairs. I only saw Jennie. Jennie, my baby doll, bleeding all over her face. I took her in my arms, crying. I thought I was tough, I thought nothing could bother me. But my little sister-
They took her to hospital. I was sitting at her bed, holding her hand. Caressing her forehead. Only one time, for a moment, she opened her eyes, smiled and closed it again. Then she stopped breathing. I could not believe it. Wanted her back. She can never, ever be replaced.
I walked out of the hospital. Thinking of Jennie. She would never come back. My eyes were filled with tears. Couldn’t see anything. Jennie had been knocked down by a car. It hadn´t stopped. It had driven away. Mum got crazy. She drank much more alcohol than before. I told her to go to a therapist or to the anonymous alcoholics. But she didn’t want. She did what she wanted.
I wanted to forget everything. I wanted to get rid of my memories. So I started with heroin. At first I felt relaxed. Felt free from thoughts of my sister und mum. But after some time I was in hell. I saw worms round me, saw my sister- bleeding out from a wound at her forehead, with red eyes. It was a trip. One of countless. I was scared, had panic attacks. After a trip I was shivering. I had to put on 2 pullovers, ´cause I was freezing. My hands were wet, my knees were trembling and weak. My heart was beating like a sound machine.
Trip after trip I wanted to give it up. But I wasn’t able to. I needed heroin to live. Needed it like the air I breathe. Then I saw that girl again. This day I asked her name. Pia. She was the most beautiful girl I ever saw. But she reminded me at my sister’s death. I wanted to give me the golden shot. I want to die. Of an overdose.
But the thoughts of her gave me the strength to undergo a therapy. At the day I went into the clinic I saw her again. She was one of the medical assistants. Pia was surprised to see me at the clinic. She said the she liked me, despite of my drug-addiction. She liked me. But I thought that she would like me more without. Which girl wanted to have a boyfriend who was addicted to drugs?
In the clinic I lost every feeling for time. I can’t say how long I stayed there. I think I spent four and a half months in the clinic. But it was the best time of my life. I was getting to know Pia better and better and I got rid of heroin. Now, I’m clean. It’s maybe a happy end.
©written by Connie
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Cornelia Palzer.
Published on e-Stories.org on 07.07.2006.