Prologue
Bailey's Pov

Heroin; most people know what it is, but if we took a step back and just focused on the word and not the definition, if you didn't know what it was, it sounds almost pretty, innocent; like Heroine or Hero, which makes it sound okay.

But Heroin is the villain in life. Ultimately there is nothing good about it, but when you have an Addiction it becomes your Hero in life. When you have an addiction your drug is what makes life okay, it's what makes life worth living because who develops an addiction to Heroin if their life is happy and complete and full of joy.

No one, that's who,

We seek out drugs to fix out fucked up lives. We seek out drugs because were not strong enough to stay away or say no. we do drugs because were missing something that we think it can fill. We take drugs as an escape when we don't know where else to escape to.

For me it was all of the above. I chose to see my life as miserable and my parents as the devil and did anything to piss them off. At fifteen I started with weed, and when that just couldn't give me the high I wanted I moved to party drugs and pills but it still wasn't what I wanted.

And then I heard the word; Heroin; Such a strong but beautiful word, a word that would soon mean everything to me.

I took it once at that party and the amazing feeling I got from it was indescribable. It was just what I craved from a drug and from then on out I would do anything to be able to get that feeling again.

Heroin was my life. School didn't matter, friends didn't matter, homework didn't matter, High school only mattered when we could sneak to the woods and light up, making it bearable to get through the day.

And when I ran out of money to supply my fix, when we were all feeling that itch to get our hands on some but we just couldn't scrape up the money, well that's where breaking, entering, theft, and a whole list of charges came into play.

We got through senior year stealing every weekend without getting caught. We would break into houses and take anything of value, we would steal from stores, and they even got as desperate as armed robbery. I always was the watch man. I didn't want to hold the gun, guns scared me.

But it gave us what we wanted, no needed. What we craved, what made our lives worth living. I still have the long white scars on my wrists from the times I couldn't find a way to get it. Without Heroin I hated life, without Heroin I may as well be dead.

My wrists started to itch when I started to go into withdraws, telling me that it was the only way, telling me that without it I was nothing. My friends and I went to our run down hang out. David came with the supply and I was a bit disappointed that he didn't get any to snort, it had become my favorite way to go it, so I would have to use a needle and be more careful about showing my arms. Oh well.

He passed out the drug and I got my syringe full of my share and blocked off my arm to make my vein more visible. I used to hate needles, but as I pushed it into my vein I had a smile on my face. It didn't take long for it to take effect and when it did I laid back with it still in my arm smiling when things started fading.

I forgot how different the feel of shooting up was from snorting it.

I heard yelling and screaming but I couldn't move. All that mattered was that I got my fix and I felt whole again.

I woke up a few days later in a hospital room with my parents and to my surprise, my brother, sitting in my room. Great, what do they want and why am I here? Were my first thoughts.

"What the fuck is your problem?" my brother, Drew yelled waking my parents and I rolled my eyes

"What are you talking about?" and he looked at me in disbelief

"Heroin, Bailey? Heroin!" he was up and full on yelling. His face was red in anger but I almost flinched at the look of complete disappointment on his face.

As I looked at my parents they shared that same look and I almost felt guilty, almost. But that itching in my wrists started again and I started to panic a bit.

"What happened?"

"You-" my mom started when my brother cut in

"You're lucky the police busted your friend, or you would be laying in a grave now! Jesus Bailey don't you know that what you took was way too much, don't you care that you almost killed yourself because you were stupid enough not to just touch it but to overdose too!"

"Why don't you just leave Drew? I actually forgot what your face looked like, but your back is crystal clear" I snapped at him and he flinched at my words.

"This isn't about me, this is about you!"

"How long have I been out?" I asked

"Two god damn days. Do you not know what you put as through, we thought you were dead, we didn't know if you were going to make it."

"Not like it's a big loss" I rolled my eyes but I was freaking out. Two days. It's been two days since I had my fix and I needed it now, I needed it bad. I looked around the room hoping it would magically appear.

"You're not going to find any Heroin in here" my brother told me disgusted and I was digging my nails into my wrist now and I could feel them break the skin as I scratched at it.

If I couldn't have Heroin, I needed a blade, a knife, something.

"I want to go home" I said not looking at anyone in particular

"You're not going home anytime soon" Drew told me, and I was wondering if my parents had a voice or if it just disappeared over night.

"What do you mean?" I asked

"Are you kidding me? You think after that Mom and Dad are taking you home. Why so you can shoot up some more? Kill yourself and leave a cold dead body in the bathroom to find!" he was yelling again

"That's enough!" My dad's voice yelled in anger "Sit down and shut up Drew." my dad shot him a glare which my brother returned.

"Dad, do you now understand how serious this is?"

"Of course I do! I almost lost my baby girl! My only daughter almost died this week and we didn't even pick up on it. Based off the tests it's been going on a while and we didn't even know! But yelling at her isn't going to do anything."

There would be guilt consuming me if I wasn't so focused on needed a fix.

"Baby, you're going to rehab" my mom told me gently and I stayed silent a moment before losing it.

"What! Why? I'm fine, just take me home!" my brother crossed his arms and turned his face from me and snorted

Strict parents I could get around, how the hell was I going to get what I needed in rehab! There was no way. I was hyperventilating at this news. My monitor was going crazy but I couldn't focus on anything. It was all getting fuzzy and then there were people rushing in.

I don't know what they did; I only caught a few words like sedative and how they needed to keep me calm. I felt like I was underwater as I heard my brother tell them what upset me and then it went black.

I woke up hours later calmer; the doctors did their tests on me and told me I was fit to leave the next day.

I was not doing well, the burning need for it was consuming me until a familiar nurse came in with a smirk on her face, I knew that look. She handed me the powder and I quickly snorted some and then she was gone. Oh she's the best friend I could ever have but i would owe Macy massivly for this.

After a little bit everything was okay again, everything was happy, which confused everyone but I didn't care. They drew more blood and I shrugged.

If the look of anger on my brothers face was bad when I woke up after my over dose, the pure fury going through him now after they tested my blood and told them I got my hands on it made that look like it was hugs and flowers.

"You got drugs in here!" he was screaming at me, my parents didn't so anything, they were shocked and appalled, I really didn't care and I shrugged. The high was still in its after effects and I didn't give a damn what he said.

He lunged at me but my dad quickly grabbed a hold of him before he could do more than grab my arm which made me giggle.

"You are unbelievable!" Drew yelled and I shrugged again.

"I can't wait for this this" my brother had a look of just evil on his face

"What do you mean dear brother?"

"I want you to detox. I want you to itch for it, to sweat knowing you can't have it. I want you to get physically sick as it leaves your system, I want you to suffer like you've made Mom, Dad and I suffer"

"Drew" my dad warned him but he kept on.

"I want you to suffer so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself and I want you to hate yourself as much as I hate you right now" and those were the last words my brother spoke to me before I went to rehab.

He didn't come back and the next morning I was released from the hospital and taken into Rehab, a place that would be mine and god knows how many other people's personal hell.

I needed to find someone to buy off in here and I needed to find them quick.