He noticed the sunlight pour through his window, it was a brand new day in a life he hated. He got dressed and wondered how he was going to afford his next fix. It was the first time today he had actually thought about money, all he had was loose change in his pocket, nothing that would get him anywhere.
Then it came to him, he knew what he was going to do and he walked out of his flat and headed towards the post office. A beautiful day, he thought to himself. Brian walked with his head down, staring at the pavement. He looked up and saw a mother with his child, he became comsumed with envy. He remembered how he would walk with his mother on the way back from school, until this life was taken away from him. When he was just nine years old his mother's new boyfriend didn't want kids around and his mother abandoned him. What had he done wrong? He then had gone to live with his heroin-addicted brother for some time, before leaving to fend for himself on the streets. He learned how to 'steal to survive', which was what he was going to do right now.
He waited for the post office to open, pensioners were a quick way of raising funds for his habit. An frail old woman appeared out of the post office, it was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He gave a quick tug and took the bag, he had done it, now he had to run.
He stopped running when he realised there was no one chasing him. His conscience came into play. She was just an old woman he thought to himself, how could he be so heartless? The answer was quite simple, he was heartless. It had made him heartless.
He hurried to a phone box and made the necessary call. He phoned his old 'mate' Kenny, who said that he'd be at his flat in around ten minutes. He hurried home.
Kenny was already there, waiting. He was a short, stout man with mousy hair. He spoke with a northern accent,
"You got my money then?" he asked. Brian handed over the money in the purse and he gave me the substance he craved so much. He had got his fix, this was it. It was what he had been waiting for.
Injecting Heroin was like a ritual for Brian. Once the Heroin is purchased the preparation starts. Injecting heroin gave him a rush, it was much better than snorting or smoking, it provided a 'bigger bang for the buck'.
Firstly he put everything on display and placed it all in order. The kit included: heroin, syringe with needle, spoon, lighter, cigarette filter, belt, citric acid and water. He placed the heroin onto the spoon with citric acid, then mixed the right amount of water with the Heroin and citric acid, (the citric acid is used to breakdown the Heroin so it can be injected). At the same time he held the spoon over the lighter so all the three substances mixed together. Once mixed, he placed a cigarette filter onto the spoon, then he drew up the solution in the syringe through the filter, to filter out any impurities.
It was now ready to be injected into his vein. He then grabbed a belt and tied it tightly around his arm to stop the blood flow, this will caused the veins to stand out for easier injection. He knew what he was doing. The deeper he stuck it in his vein, the deeper the thoughts, there was no more pain.
He was there, in that other place. He was in heaven, he was God. Brian lay on his sofa, his mind in euphoria. He had vomited, he didn't notice, the vomit travelled back down his throat and he choked to death.
He was dead, his body lay on the sofa, his skin pocketed with needle marks, scored by more than a decade of abuse. Small knots of scar tissue covered the thin lines of his veins. A fresh needle track burns dead centre, a glowing purple reminder of the drug that defined his life.
He had gave heroin his life and it had destroyed him.
If Brian had known that this would occur, he probably would still have done what he did. He wouldn't have been able to help himself, he was an addict...
