I broke out into a cold sweat and tried to cry. The tears would not fall because I knew in my heart that I had no one to blame for my situation but myself. I came from a good, loving family. I was never beaten or abused. We went on family vacations every summer. My childhood years could not have been more perfect. What was wrong with me?

I looked closely into the mirror and saw the dark circles beneath my eyes. I was underweight and my long blonde hair was thinning. I looked away from the mirror quickly and sat on the cold, tiled floor of this cheap motel bathroom.

My hand shook a bit as I held the spoon full of heroin. I cooked it up with a blue lighter. I dropped in a small piece of cotton and drew up the liquid with a syringe. I injected the heroin and fell slowly back against the wall. The tile was no longer cold and life did not seem so hopeless anymore.

Continues...