by Miss Kat

Created on: February 05, 2009

Amy Watson anxiously waited as the tiny rock melted over the heat of her lighter. Her hand was shaky as the spoon she held kept jerking around. The rock eventually became a tiny puddle of clear liquid. "Thank , God," Amy said. Finally. She took the syringe and sucked in what she considered to be her relief.

She quickly slapped her arm, searching for whatever good veins she had left. After a few moments, she finally found one. She took the needle, gave it a few good taps to make sure all the air bubbles were out and unsteadily stuck the needle into her arm. As she injected herself with the liquid, the jerky movements and shaking had begun to subside. She felt so much better and a lot more relaxed.

Amy was 18 when she first tried drugs. She would have a little pot (marijuana) here and a little more there. When college started, she tried everything under the sun, but heroin was what did her in. One hit of that and she was gone. Her life went completely downhill once heroin became her permanent and quite possibly her only friend.

School became unbearable because all she could think of was the next fix. Food lost its flavor and life had become all about getting her that instant relief. The more she tried to stop, the more she wanted it.

Her family had tried doing an intervention and she refused to go to a treatment facility. She didn't have a problem, at least not in her eyes. After the whole intervention fiasco, Amy cut her family and friends off entirely. She didn't need them. They didn't understand that she could stop whenever she wanted. She wasn't the junkie they made her out to be!

The only problem Amy faced now was money. She didn't care about where she stayed. That didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was making money to buy just enough to get her through the day.

She tried begging, but only made a dollar if not more. She tried asking her family for money, but thanks to her previous actions, the bridge between her and them was burned beyond repair. Her absolute last effort was trying to sell her own body, but even that failed her. Nobody wanted to have sex with a junkie. Although, she still denied even being a junkie.

Amy's life had certainly changed and it was definitely not for the better. Once she had exhausted all her possible options to earn money, she decided on one last idea. She would have to steal money. From where, she didn't know, but it was the only possible solution.

Since she started living on the streets, Amy had always carried around a pocket

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