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Heroin is the Devil

Kelly Costain

Posted on May 23, 2021 08:12

5 users

My inappropriate reaction to truly awful things is to make inappropriate jokes and laugh, which is why the horror of watching my best friend shoot heroin in her neck left me in stitches. I laughed so hard I cried when we started calling her Needle Neck.

I'll never understand the appeal of heroin. I mean, what's the point? Yet it's literally everywhere. My best friend has been under heroin's spell for the better part of a decade. She used to try to hide her habit from me, locking herself in the bathroom to fix until we asked her to stay where we could see her, just in case. Eventually, she could only hit in her neck, and in order to get the veins to pop out enough, she had to make this ridiculous face like she was trying (unsuccessfully) to blow up a balloon. It took two big breaths, one to get the needle in the vein and one to depress the plunger.

I couldn't look directly at her when she did it, though, because we both got the giggles, so instead of watching I just kept her in the corner of my eye. She had a routine. She would shuffle, mutter, take deep breaths and then ... pause. She would just kind of hover in space, almost like she was sleepwalking, and when she snapped out of it enough she would clean herself up and put her things away. After the initial 'rush' she would lumber around for a few hours like an unintelligible zombie, one that you're pretty sure is mentally handicapped but may very well just be drunk. Again, I do not understand the appeal.

One afternoon I was dutifully not looking at her while she shuffled, muttered, and took deep breaths. But this time, she didn't pause, she stopped. She was completely still. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was right there, and she wasn't.

The needle was still in her neck, a trickle of bright red blood, stark against her pale skin, was already staining her shirt. I clapped my hands, rubbed her chest, my boyfriend helped me wrestle her onto her feet. But neither of us had our phones and I was starting to panic. I screamed at her that giving up wasn't fair to her daughter. Despite her willingness to let go, she came back. She sucked in a ragged breath, when she let it out she was sobbing.

I spent the next two hours just reminding her to breathe. Asking her to tell me about her daughter was the only thing that kept her with me. I couldn't understand most of her answers, but at least she was breathing. Somehow she didn't die that day, but we both know that one day she will. It's not a matter of if it will kill her, but when. See, she didn't quit that day either, and we both know that she won't.

Heroin is the Devil.

Kelly Costain

Posted on May 23, 2021 08:12

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Source: WXII12 News
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