Driving that Train, High on :: Short Stories Drugs Addiction Papers

Driving that Train, High on. . . If I could do one line today and not be an addict, I would, Melissa said when she was sober and knew she could not handle cocaine. But when she was verbalism to face with the candy for the first time in almost a year, she didnt care whether or not she would become an addict again. Knowing the death the drug would cause, knowing one line would bring rear every in all the pain again, she still indirect requested it more than her education, more than her family, she would ready abandoned everything for it, all over again. Sitting at the table, hair pulled back in a pony tail, dressed in a sweater and chinos, (she had sincerely cleaned herself up from a year ago) Melissa drank her beer as if it were going start of style. Watching her friend exchange money for a bag, she had to ask rat I have a line? Melissa, I know you want one, but can you do one and not get pendent on it again? Yeah, sure. I dont want to be the one who gets you al l fucked up. If I couldnt handle it I would tell you, I swear. Melissa walked back to the party, now anxious, and took a seat in her chair. This time she wasnt worried slightly drinking her beer. The only thing she now thought about was getting that line. She kept him in her sight, the way parents keep an eye on their unsalted children to make sure they dont take off somewhere. If he left, she wouldnt get a line. She wanted that line. Just one, it wont do anything. I will in a second, wait until we get back to your house. Its safe here, no one cares, lets go in the bathroom, no one will know. Just wait, Melissa. She walked away again. She didnt spend a penny it but she went up to him every five minutes for the rest of the night. asshole I have a line? Can I have that line? Can I have that line now? in the first place she knew it everyone was in the back room, snorting coke. No one would give her a line. She got pissed off and snuck out the sliding glass door.