The rain showering on the window broke my peaceful sleep. Even though today when I woke up I felt alive. Better than the last one year. Last one year had monsters in my bag, pocket, lungs and deep in my blood; things which aren’t meant to be with a normal teenager.
It all began when I was in STD-8 and my friends asked me to smoke cigarette. I never touched stuffs like these. I never wanted to be a chain smoker. The first puff burned my lungs and stabbed me with a chest pain. The puff never ended anymore. Soon enough hangouts were a Crucial time to Smoke. My friends and used to smoke on a daily basis of 2-3 packs of cigarette per day. It never Crossed its limits. But I needed more thrill in my life. Cigarettes buzz wasn’t enough for me. Then came a friend; now when I think of him, he was a devil, who later turned out to be an angel. He was the dynamic character in my life.
He offered me to smoke weed. He said, “Puff it up Helmi, it grows in the gardens of heaven,” as I burned it up and finished the whole joint. Nothing happened, until minutes later the effect started. started forgetting everything. Everything seemed like a dream. Time slowed down. The effect sparked me with interest to do it again after I sobered up. Soon started doing more stuffs like alcohol, cocaine and heroin. sniffed, drunk, punctured and smoked all the stuffs in an innocent teenager who didn’t take stuffs for thrill.
Soon enough my parents started to doubt on behavior due to my smell, dizziness and coming home late at night. They started to check my bag without informing me. They found traces of drug in my bag. They started to cross check me. To stay safe, I stopped taking drugs for a month. The shakes of my hand were more suspicious.
After a month, I couldn’t resist. I called my devil friend and requested him to go and buy some drugs for me. I pushed him a lot. Later on I found some in my washroom’s drawer. I reached again for the syringes. Trying to resist seemed impossible. I felt my blood rushing through my veins. I heard echoes saying, “Take it Helmi, take it”. The moment tied my hands and inserted the syringe of death. I heard a crackling sound in the door. I looked up and saw my father standing; looking deep in my eyes. He said, “What are you doing Helmi?” His tears were full of pain. His tears tore my heart; couldn’t look at his face. His question seemed to be the most difficult question in the universe. Iran out of the house. The sky seemed dark. My friend called me and said, “Helmi, help me” I knew where he was. I went around the ally way. I saw him lying on the ground looking to the infinity. He wasn’t blinking. He seemed so alive. He was lying in a pool of blood. He was stabbed by the dealer. The ally seemed as the end of my road.
On 24/01/2012, lost three lives-Helmi, Helmi’s father and Helmi’s friend. Today, when look into the mirror and try to recognise myself, I can’t. Today, sitting in this rehab jail, I feel the pain and guilty. Next week, when I will be released, what would my parents and my friends ask me? Is my girlfriend still waiting for me or has she left with someone else? Every night in this rehab when I wash my face, see blood on my hands. I try my best to wash them off, but they won’t go. My friend sacrificed his life for me. Why wouldn’t the blood go? Am I the one to be blamed? I finished everything. destroyed my life. Is this really the end of the road?