This is a very personal topic to me.
My Dad has been addicted to heroin for the last 20 years.
This is some of the things that I remember.

I remember watching Trainspotting with Dave.  Watching them inject reminded me of coming downstairs and looking into the shed, your face of utter concentration at the window, as it you were working out an equation. Then the band on your arm would show for a moment, and I knew.

Then I remembered the time you were looking after me when mum was on nights and you’d invited over your friends. I came through to the kitchen to see you. I was angry that my ‘soft mints’ weren’t soft. I remember you and all of your friend not wearing shirts, some with bands around their arms, some holding needles. At the time I thought nothing of it. Now I know just how bad that was. Let alone the fact you injected the mints and gave them back to me.

I remember the time you got arrested for dealing. The two policemen at the door asked my mum if you were home, and without hesitation she told them where you were. And a few minutes later you were dragged though our living room shouting ‘don’t bother writing.’ I was watching Nickelodeon and a little while later went to dance club.

I remember last year when I was playing a gig at the airshow, and it was one of the few times you came. Every time I looked at you, you were falling asleep because you’d used a lot that morning. You fell asleep through my whole set, and mum didn’t even notice. Everyone else who knew you did though.

I remember when I noticed the Wii was gone. And I looked all over the house for it. Mum asked me what was wrong and I burst into tears, and she kicked you out. Just like the guitars, and the jewellery, and the money. That was the last time mum kicked you out.

I remember you coming to Dave’s for the first time, and meeting him properly for the first time. And you had used and started falling asleep on the sofa mid conversation. I remember the embarrassment as I looked at Dave and apologised. You made me feel sick.

I remember when I came to see you a few months ago. Unshaven. You hadn’t eaten. Covered in sweat. Your leg had swollen twice the size of the other. I had to go to the shop for you because you couldn’t walk. You hadn’t eaten in days. I went home a cried for a long time.

I remember all the time you said you were off it and you’d never go back.

The End

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