Writing Exercises from Serving up a Story

Tell It Like It Is

Tell It Like It Is
In this exercise, tell it like it is. Be raw, be real, be honest, but tell it like it is.

I woke up in the cheap motel room with a terrible headache but that was oftentimes the norm. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I sat up. After combing through an overflowing ashtray, I found a half-smoked cigarette and lit it. I then grabbed several unfinished alcoholic drinks from the nightstand and a nearby dining table and combined them into one. I downed the liquid concoction of various beer and hard liquors. The drink was warm and tasted awful, but it was never about the taste. I then found that someone had carelessly discarded a pizza crust on the floor. I grabbed it and quickly ate it without tasting it.

With breakfast now out of the way I put on my pants and fastened them, but they fell straight to the floor. I had probably lost thirty pounds in the past couple of months. I made a mental note of a razor blade sitting on top of a mirror to use later to resize my belt, but for now, I'd go without them. I needed to eat real food, but had no money for such things even though it was Sunday and I had just gotten paid on Friday, I was already broke. Food was just a luxury anyway.

After grabbing a baggie out of my pants I made my way through a sea of half-dressed strangers, strewn about the floor, to the bathroom. Someone was passed out on the toilet with a syringe still in their arm. After grabbing the needle, I climbed into the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain closed for privacy. I lined the edge of the tub with a lighter, spoon, syringe, and my medicine. I had to move quickly before the shakes started because then I would need assistance and that would mean I would have to share. I wasn't about to share, because this was all I had left and it would be another five and a half days before I could afford more.

I emptied the packet of grayish rose-colored powder into the spoon and heated it until it was liquefied. I drew it into the syringe and administered it into my arm, as I had done so many, many times before. Life for the next few minutes was absolute bliss and after which, I would be on the unrelenting quest for the next state of nirvana. Nothing would deny me. I would beg, borrow, steal, whatever I had to do. There was no low that I wouldn't sink to get my next fix. It was the only thing that mattered to me and I would rather die than live without it.

A/N: I have personally never done heroin, so my limited knowledge came from friends, family, and coworkers that have battled the addiction.