Addict-
1. a person who is addicted to an activity, habit, or substance: a drug addict.
“Dammit!”
The sound of curse words resonated through the dark alley like the quick and faint yet constant firing of a gun, only filled with more terror and angst.
25 year-old Della Pitts stared at her doctor with huge grief filled eyes.
“What the fuck do you mean you can’t continue you give me any? I’ve been paying you well enough haven’t I? What else do you want?” She hissed frantically, more like a wild animal than a human being.
“I can’t just continue to give you morphine. Not only is this getting dangerous for me, because I’m not ready to lose my fucking job, but it’s also pretty apparent that this is fucking destroying you too. I’m not going to continue to lay my job on the line to help feed your habit. “He snapped.
Dr. Timothy Hines was young, only practicing for a year in the medical field and desperate to get his debt for medical school paid before the birth of his second child.
So when he met Della things just…worked. They were a match made in druggie heaven.
She was a young heiress who had inherited a large amount of money from her mother’s recent death. She owned the three story mansion her parents had once lived in, she owned all of the six luxurious cars, all 12 acres of land that surrounded the giant house, and the millions of dollars her mother had saved up were split between her and various charities.
So when she fractured major parts of her spinal cord in a motorcycle accident she had to be put on large amounts of pain killers and hallucinogens.
Thus, how her addiction to morphine started.
“Laying your job on the line wasn’t a fucking concern before when I was lining your pockets!”
It was sad but true; Della had always paid him exceptionally well.
“I can’t give you your fucking morphine if I get fired now can I?”Dr. Timothy countered as he watched Della’s face completely transform into a miserable solemn picture.
“So…so what are you suggesting?”
“I think we should begin to wean you off of the drug, it’s…it’s the best thing for both of us really."
“No…no…no…you don’t understand! I need it!”
Suddenly she was on top of him, shaking him as if he were a mere doll, snarling like a demon from the pits of hell, and cursing like a sailor drunk from tequila and whiskey.
“Della! Calm down!” He struggled to shove the 98 pound girl off of him as he stared into the beautifully depressing hazel eyes of the monster he helped create.
She was fading, rather quickly actually, and although she had already lost herself, it was clear that she was about to lose her life as well to her horrible addiction.
He couldn’t help but think about how stunning she had once been, yet now she looked like a corpse, a zombie from a video game, not a 25 year-old woman.
Sunken cheeks, boney arms and legs, lips always dry and cracked, and long brown hair once the shade of chocolate now dull, and as lifeless as the rest of her.
It was tragic.
It was tragic, and he had helped it become so tragic.
By the time he was able to pull the small woman off of him a good thirty minutes passed.
