'I think I'll get my Ritalin back' I stated to N**, glowing with the anticipation of having my 'normal' returned.
'It looked good' he replied
'It's the only time in my life I haven't used. When on Ritalin, crack and cocaine don't do anything, plus the sedative effects stop me smoking weed or taking benzos to sleep'
I was desperately hopeful I would get my concerta back. It would definitely encourage me not to use. You seriously don't know what you've got till it's gone.
It was a mild, June morning, grey heavy cloud loomed above suggesting a thunder storm was on its way. It would have been pleasantly warm if it was not for a cold wind.
It dawned on me, should I get my Ritalin returned, there would be high expectations on me, not to use. Least for 6-12 months. Occasional using maybe tolerated. Odd line of cocaine at parties. Maybe a pill or a toke of crack. Opiates were a major No-No. Once withdrawn risking addiction again was a chance of suffering the withdrawals again. So no chance there.
Plus there's no chance I'm risking giving a dirty piss test and losing it, meaning I could only use Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. This too stops my addictive behaviours as I can only use twice a week, the three day break preventing physical addiction through using 3 or 4 times a week.
The devil upon my shoulder told me I should get the using out of me while I still had a chance.
'I wouldn't mind getting some legal highs. Speed. And some benzos'
'It's illegal now'
'Only ethylphenidate. There will be replacements'
'What.... Now?'
'Yeah, come on. We'll just get a bag'
Not taking much convincing we headed to Boots for me to get my supervised Buprenorphine, and walked from Colliers Wood to Tooting, before getting a bus to the shop.
Warmly greeted I quickly noticed a new White Stuff, the ethylphenidate replaced.
'Is this good?'
'Umm yeah, it's popular..' The shop staff replied.
'What else you got?'
'We've not seen you in ages?'
'Yeah, no ethylphenidate, so I've managed to be good'
'We've still got some'
'Really?'
'Spend over £40 and I'll sort you a pack'
'I'll get some etizolam, and flubromazepam.. Umm you call them Comas'
'That's £25'
'And a half of new White Stuff?'
'I'll do it £50 stead of £55 for you'
And then a quick nip into the back
'And here's your free gift for being a good customer. It's legal to have, only illegal to sell'
'Nice one' I replied
'Only for good customers.'
In my hand I took the packet of Blue Stuff. I could feel the anticipation rising. The same anticipation I once felt for crack, and every other drug of choice I had used before.
The journey back was slow but little can be recalled from my memory.
'I'll stop at the chemist'
'No' I replied, 'we can use the ones we have'
My eagerness meant I refused to add extra delays to my intravenous administration of my favourite brand of ethylphenidate.
Finally we reached N**’s. I quickly fetched one of my used needles. A micro fine BD 100ml diabetic needle. Unlike the easier to use 200ml Nevershare, the needle couldn't be removed. I pulled the plunger out, savouring the 'POP' noise. The noise gives goosebumps even when I am not using, and probably will continue to for the rest of my life.
I filled it roughly a third with crushed bright neon blue crystals. Sucked up water to the 100ml mark and shook the syringe vigorously until 80% of the crystals dissolved. Too impatient to wait for the rest to dissolve I walked to the brighter kitchen whilst using my bag strap as a tourniquet on the middle of my right arm.
My T**** tattoo serving its purpose, stopping me use there. A) I didn't like disrespecting his memory and B) I couldn't see my veins as easily.
In the kitchen I quickly to inserted the needle using the plump vein, now throbbing on the left side of my right hand. I pulled back unable to wait any longer, then the claret red snaked into the syringe, immediately turning a rusty brown as it merged with the pale blue liquid.
My heart skipped a beat upon seeing the green light signal. I let go of the syringe quickly enabling me to change the position of my grip so I could push the plunger. I pushed and straight away the familiar burn in the vein I was using hit me. Within 20 seconds, the pleasurable chemical taste reached the back of my mouth. Whenever you inject you taste it in the back of your mouth.
Suddenly I felt more alert, awake. Colours seemed brighter, sounds clearer. My brain immediately went from a crazy, chaotic demeaner to calm, clear and organised. The anxiety which cripples my very existence faded into obscurity. My self hate turned into secure confidence. My unachievable perfection turned into a possible reality. My body obsession with being fat at 8.7lbs (119lbs or 54kgs at 5'6 inches / 168cm), no longer concerned me as my hunger evaporated.
Heading back to N**’s room, I felt sight disappointment as I hadn't done enough to feel any rush. That's the problem with the diabetic needle. You couldn't fit a big enough hit all the time. I immediately started to prepare a second hit using one of the heroin cookers to dissolve the speed, patiently waiting for more to dissolve this time.
N**** sat on the floor trying to sort himself out as I stired what would be my second hit. Pouring more of the crushed blue crystals I turned to N****
'I didn't feel that one much. Maybe you should go chemist. You can't get enough in these 1 mil. Mind you, my big veins are fucked thanks to my parents. In a whole year of using before my first detox my veins where never this bad. I could still hit them. They were like rope, but they're fucked now. I can't hit shit with big veins. Now, I can only hit the ones in my hands'
I drew up my second hit and this time used a vein on my inner arm. They were smaller bit closer to skin than the deeper, bigger ones. Although easy to hit, easier to fuck. A slight nudge would send the needle straight through, giving you a painful lump of fluid trapped under the skin. Burning painfully when touched, the pain would take 4 weeks minimal to go, and the lump, twice as long.
The second hit too was nothing special, however a 24 hour binge, unbeknown to me, had commenced.
Before I knew it, it had passed from 1pm Monday to 10am Tuesday. We had stayed up all night using Blue Stuff and the seriously inferior new White Stuff.
I had probably been absorbed in writing this blog, picking at scabs, pluck chin hairs, clearing bogies, playing games and other 'tweaking' behaviours all night.
'I want some more' I said to N**** and pretty soon we returned to the shop, something I would continue to do for 6 days continuously.
The time I spent high and torment free, are remarkably forgetable. So far I was yet to suffer any psychosis by Mum and Dad. N**** was fine and the night at his was pleasurable.
My time was spent in a calm haze gifting me with a hazy relocation of normal, junkie day (use, get money, thankfully for me, from my bank account, get more) to junkie day activities.
However my psychosis must have caught on that afternoon and immediately planned my punishment. This time, only after the buses had stopped, say 3am, N**** was instructed to do the old favourite of let's accuse J**** of having a secret phone and psychically abuse her until she flees in terror and is homeless for the night.
It was calm, but N****’s behaviour was causing me anxiety. Mainly engrossed with a game phone but he started looking at the window and door before giving me his evil smile.
'Do you want to tell me anything?' Nigel asked, the edginess in his voice now apparent. I knew I would have nasty accusations based on nothing whatsoever thrown at me very shortly.
'No' I replied casually.
There was nothing to hide. I was famous for my drug use, the only guys who attempted anything where 'actors' instructed by my parents. Unlike the rest of modern society, had no qualms with someone using drugs intravenously in their presence. Regardless of the bloodbath occasionally caused in the process.
N**** settled back to his phone and me to mine.
30 minutes later, after receiving a text message suddenly he turns the TV up to the loudest setting and promptly left the room. Almost as if he was letting someone in. My psychosis.
The upon returning he opened both windows, hidden when on his bed, to the full width.
Then my punishment commenced. Movement catching my peripheral vision or in the Ribena bottle reflecting under the bed. The small speaker playing the sounds of my family whispering, sighing and coughing was deployed or activated. Clearly some kind of camera was on me as I could hear my brother read the post I was blogging about word for word.
After ignoring this annoyance, which I was rather good at, N**** obviously decided or was instructed to step it up a notch.
'What's that noise!?'
'What noise?' I replied, startled at the anger in his voice.
'Nothing' he almost snapped back, his face angry and twisted, eyes filled with venom, staring straight through my own eyes. Then, as if twisting, his scowl turned to the demented trouble indicating smile before laughing with cruel, taunting tones.
Another half an hour passed, the tormenting had been stepped up yet again, N**** playing a CD which purposely plays a track which sounds like it's skipped, and out of tune, warped songs. Ah yes, psychosis that warps the sound of music (not your speech) only when in this room with the CD player on.
I could heavily sense another presence was around, as a top flat access via the roof and emergency escape hatch was possible. I was annoyed at my family invading N****’s flat. It had been my last safe place to use and provided respite from their crazy behaviour. Without it, suicide would have been likely. Now they had taken this too. I was heart broken, N**** had been dragged into this, as it was I who dragged him into intravenous drug use.
'GIVE ME THE PHONE!!' N**** suddenly demanded, grabbing my bag. He began to rifel through it and I snatched it back.
'THERE IS NO PHONE' I chucked the contents of my bag onto the floor. This was N****’s game. This was how he joined in the tormenting. Gentle N**** my only friend, my only safe place, now violent, scary and ensuring my torture was continued by not only letting my family, but joining in, the torture.
'SEARCH ME!' I shouted while stripping.
'NO, YOU'RE LYING, A****! A****!' He shouted, calling his sister at 3am.
'What!' She replied
'LET ME HAVE YOUR PHONE, SHE'S LYING, SHE'S HIDING A PHONE'
'I'm not!' I replied, tears beginning to stream down my face. I got dressed.
'SEE! SEE! YOU DIDN'T LET ME SEARCH YOU'
'I was naked'
'YEAH, YEAH' the evil grin wide across his face reminiscent of a Cheshire Cat.
Suddenly I'm yanked from the bed.
'GET OUT!' N**** screamed.
I began to collect my things.
'A****' N**** screamed and a tied, half asleep woman appeared in the door way
'THIS BITCH WON'T GO'
'I'm packing my bag and then I'm going' I managed to reply whilst crying a torrent of tears due to the pain of N****’s betrayal.
'COME ON' I was yanked to the door.
'I'm putting on my shoes' I replied losing my balance as I had been in the process of putting on the second one.
'I DON'T CARE'
Then, with my second shoe barely on, I'm grabbed and yanked by my arm, and sharply pushed down half a fight of stairs.
Tears had created two steams down each cheek, I steadied myself on the wall I hit, and turned to face my tormentor.
'Why?' I sobbed, but yet again the evil smile just spread across his face as he locked the door. Locking me out to a night on the street. With hindsight I can say this is what was intended with certainty, as he also stole my Oyster card. Something I've realised he's done frequently to me as I recovered them.
I walked down the stairs, still sobbing. I nipped into the rubbish bins on the way out. I had bottled water and my needles, so I banged up a big shot. Almost too big, I had a mini 'Oh shit' moment, the sweats, racing heart, paranoia I would die, alone, in a communial bin.
After 5 minutes had passed, the moment had passed and I collected my belongings. I walked out the back door, listening to it slam, signifying the beginning of my night sleeping rough.
I automatically headed for Brockwell park unaware of the delights waiting for me, as authorised by my parents. Regardless of their phoney psychosis, they never disturbed me, so injecting drugs would not be a problem.
To be continued in part 2
