This is a story about a teenage boy and girl. in love and using drugs. Going through hard times together and exposing an unsettling past. and the truths about a lovers point of view.
“It’s okay” I said to him holding his face in my hands. “It’s okay to cry” He looked at me skeptically, his eyes, dark brown and glazed over with fear. He was shaking and his vomit was all over my lap. He pulled away from me, not saying a word and went into the bathroom. Minutes later as I waited by the door I could hear him singing a familiar tune from an album we listened to in the car on the way to his friends’ house for more dope. I threw my clothes in the dumpster outside, since we didn’t have a washing machine, after I changed into a band t-shirt of Justin’s and some black sweat pants. I sat in the corner of the room waiting for him to come out of the bathroom and when he didn’t I knocked politely. “Justin is everything okay? What’s taking you so long?” He didn’t answer. The door was locked so I stuck a bobby pin in the door and opened it. There he was laying on the floor, his lips blue and face drained of colour. My heart stopped and I immediately called 911.
From then on until we got to the hospital, everything was a blur. My mind raced through thoughts of the worst cases, and an empty world without him. You see, there were things I loved and were fascinated with Justin for, like the way he ignored danger and took risks, the way he got easily distracted when any good rock song came on the radio. He wasn’t very romantic, he loved me, but he wasn’t one to buy roses or a teddy bear for an anniversary, and he had trouble telling me his feelings. He was a real shoulder shrugger when he couldn’t tell me things easily. He didn’t worry about his veins collapsing cause as he always said “If he were to die, he’d die in peace.” And I guess that is sort of true, heroin makes you feel good all over, it shuts down your sense of pain, so while sitting in the ambulance with Justin and the paramedics I was glad he wouldn’t be in any pain. But Justin would not die in “peace” because on the inside Justin was not in any peace what so ever. His mind was sad, he was a broken soul.
I waited in the waiting room as the doctors worked with his dying body. I couldn’t cry, because I was way past scared, I was devastated. He can’t die I told myself, this isn’t supposed to happen. I prayed to god, even though I had my doubts. I prayed until I saw a bunch of white suits to my right. They told me that he was in a coma and they weren’t sure how much longer he would be in it for. They got him breathing better and his lips weren’t as blue I observed as I sat by his side holding his cold stiff hand. While he was deeply far away in his coma I sat by him and thought of how in the world did we get here? Why? Why did we do these things to ourselves? Risk our lives with heroin and other strong drugs?