I was sitting on my bed at home, watching TV. I remember the waves of monotony, the strong feeling of dissatisfaction that washed over me. I was waiting for a friend to call me. We were supposed to go out and score. The anxiety I used to feel when I had to wait still gives me the creeps. I have my last hit of heroin and all of that noise just disappears. I’m left with a feeling of absolute calmness
It was around dinner time when my phone finally rang. I leap up and grab it. It’s him. We agree to meet up straight away. I leave the house, the sleeves of my shirt still stained with blood. I haven’t washed for weeks. The only thing I care about is my next hit.
I jump in the car. Then nothing. I struggle to open my eyes, the first thing I see is the speedometer stuck at 50 and a lot of broken glass. The car is on a step incline. I can’t really focus on anything and I still don’t understand what just happened. I close my eyes again. I wake up and I’m on a stretcher. They are loading me onto an ambulance. My vision is still cloudy. I hear my father shout something but I’m too weak and I let go again. I go back into the void. Nothing. I’m totally enveloped by darkness. My mind bursts with broken memories. When I finally come to, I find myself on a hospital bed, in an empty room, in total silence. I still don’t understand what happened or what I’m doing there.
Then I come to. I look down at my arms and see the track marks. I look down at my legs and I don’t see anything strange. Thank God. I’m completely alone, there isn’t anyone close by so I can’t ask any questions. I still don’t know what happened. I roll over and I see my pillow is covered in blood. Then I touch my head. I’m covered in bandages. “What’s going on?” I run to the bathroom and I start tearing them off and I see a deep cut in the shape of a V on the middle of my forehead. The skin is held together by stitches that protrude from my forehead an inch. I don’t have the energy to get upset. I still feel high. I light up a cigarette and get back into bed. I realize that my mother and father are there. They look destroyed. I look at them but I don’t feel anything. I have nothing left to give to them; I have nothing left to give myself. I don’t feel any pain. Nothing at all. Just the darkness of addiction.
Daniele
