Abuse

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, and I just nodded in reply. As of late I had been talking less; just taking to normal gestures to replace the words that could have been spoken. Over the past year that I have known the guy he seemed more like a brother than most; even if he wasn't apart of our gang.

"I need to. I pay what money I can, but it's not enough. I need more of it, and this is the fastest, most officiant way to get the money I need." It had been a year since I started, and the year had taken its toll on me. I was addicted; I knew it; I wasn't going to do anything about it. There wasn't anything that I could – not when the drug had its hold on me like it did.

"There are other ways-" He began before breaking off when I flashed him a look. He should know not to carry on when the subject came to what it was now.

"Other ways would take longer, and I don't have time to take."

"Steal some."

"I won't steal unless I have to. I've told you this."

"I know." There he goes with the sighing again. "But you don't have to do this."

"I think that I do."

"You don't. You need help."

"You can't help me get the money, so what else is there to do?"

"Stop this, and take care of your schooling. Get a good job. Maybe even get a good family. Not everyone has those chances, and you have them." I knew he was right – he had no family, and couldn't afford to get an education. He was stuck out here, while I just chose to be here. I couldn't do it though. There was no way that I could.

"I know what you mean, Lou, but I can't. I'm too far gone; we both know that."

"Then talk with me when you can, and when you stop this nonsense." The dirty blonde stated before walking off. He was my one true friend here, but it seemed that I had just lost him. It wasn't my fault that I needed money for this; it wasn't my fault that he couldn't see why I was doing it; that I was getting reduced to this. I wouldn't have to be if I just stole money, and cocaine from others, but I couldn't. That was wrong.

I had grown more and more distant from everyone, and it seemed that I had just lost my only true friend. It didn't matter if I became like some of the other junkies. If I became like them I would be suspicious of everyone, and everything that moved; I was sure that I was already starting to get there. Cocaine is a strong drug for anyone, and it is especially hard to not get drawn in for a 13-year-old. Doing it for over a year hadn't gotten me far, but it stopped me from thinking about my family; that was good enough for me.

Though – to keep up with feeding my addiction – I needed more money. What I had wasn't enough, and it was a miracle that I got any at all. Instead of spending the money that my father gave me on food I spent it on dugs. I needed more money, and I knew the old man wouldn't give it to me. I couldn't get it any other way.

Selling my body was the only way to do that. It was the only way to get the money that I needed to fuel my addiction.

~~~

"I'll tell you what, Yori." The older male smirked when I narrowed my eyes at him. I had been doing business with him – with anybody really – for a while now, and when I could. "You can get this batch for free."

"What's the catch?" I knew him well enough to know that he didn't do free deals.

"You have to compensate really well for what I give you."

"I won't disappoint, but I want the drugs first." I held out my hand as he smirked. I didn't care – I was going to get my fix; that's what I needed most.

~~~

"Ah!" I groaned as I laid on my bed, withering in pain. My head wasn't the only thing that was in pain – it felt like all of my body was tearing itself apart. It's not like I hadn't expected this would happen – I had – but I hadn't thought it would be this bad. I probably should have when I decided to drop the drugs cold turkey. I was afraid that if I dropped it slowly I would still be addicted, and that wasn't something I wanted. I just wanted to be clean of the drugs that I had become attached to.

I had been doing the cocaine for seven years, and finally dropping it like this was likely to kill me. Either way I saw it as getting free of this. If I died due to the withdrawal it was because I was trying to get clean, and if I survived I would still be clean. I would get out of the addiction one way or the other; at the moment I didn't care which way. I had been going through the harsh withdrawal for the past few days, and I was starting to think that it would be better to just die instead of go through this.

I cried out again as another spasm ripped through my body. It was harder because of how strong the drug was, and because of how long I had been doing it. It was a miracle that I was actually able to drop it like I had.... I had locked myself out from the world. I had little food, but enough water. I could survive off water and ramen if need be; not to mention that I didn't feel hungry at all.

The only reason I was doing this was because I was sick of feeling like this. I could barely remember things that had happened within the past several years, and I wanted to know. I needed to know what I was doing. I was sick of everything. I had called the authorities; got my gang – the people that seemed almost like my family – thrown in jail. When they had come to take away everyone in the base I ran – I ran as fast as I could. I couldn't deal with them, and I needed to get away.

I would go back once I was clean; try to change things; turn myself in. Whatever I had to do I would do it..... For everything that I had done in the past had been wrong, maybe I could do something right this time. Maybe..... Just maybe I could. If only I knew I could make it through the withdrawal first. I couldn't count on if I would, or not. A part of me was hoping that I would while another was hoping it would just kill me already. The world could deal with less hopeless people.

…...But if I could change I would; if I could would I still be useless – hopeless?