The Last One


7 years ago yesterday, I knew I was headed to the treatment center, again. I wanted to get high one more time. I had $20 and went in search of just one more. I had the idea if I was going to stop, I should go out with a bang.
My first stop was the working girls I ran with for awhile. I showed up to a rundown motel, hoping they had what I needed. Instead I found a friend passed out on the toilet with a needle hanging out of her thigh. I put her to bed like the times before. Another had an abscess she was desperate to lance but couldn’t keep her hands steady. I did my best to help drain the pus and realized I wasn’t going to get what I needed there.
My next stop was another seedy motel. A friend was locked in the bathroom. She said she could hook me up. 45 minutes passed so I broke in the door. She was digging in her face, blood covered the sink and the mirror. She wasn’t going to be of help either.
It was almost 2am so I had to decide if I was gonna get booze or wait for a bag. I figured with my pending trip to rehab, I better opt for drugs. I waited for a dealer to come out of the bar. He never came.
I went to xxx’s house. She knew people, if she couldn’t find my drug at least she would have her’s. That would suffice. All I wanted was one last hit of something. It was dry. She had nothing.
I spent hours calling people I with the hopes of finding anything. I found a roach in the ashtray. I took a few deep hits, retreating to my car where I stared at my cell phone waiting for anyone to call. The call never came.
I passed out, waking up just in time for my appointment at the treatment center. I walked in with $20, broken and done, knowing that there was no way I could ever get enough. My craving would never be satisfied.
I haven’t used since. It’s been work but not as much work as it was chasing something I could never catch.
And today, I am free.



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