April 22, 2019
My name is Chris and I am a recovering addict. This is part 3 of my story.
Crystal was always plotting and scheming, but one thing she was not was unrestrained. She was patient because she knew what I denied: I was infatuated with her.
When I first quit meth, one of many futile attempts, it seemed easy, but she is deceiving that way. It’s never easy to leave her; she wants you to believe it is so that in that fatalistic moment when you fully comprehend how much you need her, she owns you.
The first day without her went well. I was tired and a bit confused, but overall I felt as if I had a mild hangover. But hell hath no fury as a woman scorned and Crystal unleashed her full unrelenting fury the second day.
I awoke that morning drenched in sweat with a strong chemical odor oozing from every pore on my body. I could taste its bitter sweetness in my mouth as I licked the back of my hands and fingers. That is when I also first heard them. Quiet murmerings that soon shattered every neuron in my brain in a blinding excrutiating light.
But Crystal was only getting warmed up.
Every fibre in my body screamed in agony as I crawled down the stairs towards the phone to make the first of what would be many sick calls to work.
My partner, concerned, asked what was wrong and I managed a feeble response of “flu” as my muscles tightened throughout my body like a python strangles its prey.
By day 3 I was wishing that death would come swiftly. The screams in my head became one intelligible word: more.
As I picked up the phone to call my dealer, I saw a figure dancing in the shadows.
It was Crystal and she was smiling.
