The storm was fast approaching; rain pounding hard on the roof, the lightning flashes telling me that the thunder would be roaring through shortly if not sooner.

This was going to be a bad day. I wanted to run out of that apartment,  and find someone with something, just a taste, to keep the headaches and such at bay.

Nobody would know, I'd find Eddy, he always had something, a little bit of happiness in a little pill or some powder.  I could take just a hit, a tiny one, just something to numb that pain building up behind my eyes and in the pit of my stomach.

"You won't survive outside without a little help..."

That was my demon talking to me, the one that got me in trouble in the first place. 

I was just out of rehab, court ordered after I wrecked my car and almost killed me and my friend, April, after a long night of fun. 

We were high, laughing as our blood washed the asphalt.

We wouldn't feel the pain till the stuff wore off later and we found ourselves in worse pain than we had ever felt before; like wild animals were trying to rip themselves out of our souls.

People who I thought were my friends didn't even know I had been in an accident let alone serving time in jail and then rehab; well more to the point, they didn't care.

Most of that crowd were dead or dying, killing themselves slowly.

Janet was one of them. 

On the scene, she was called Bullet, like a bullet to the brain. She was hot, beyond hot, but she didn't care either way; she'd ignore the hits from the patrons; boys and girls alike.

She didn't need anyone.  She had her boyfriend, Jack and Coke and when that got boring, which was most the time, she'd lighten up that relationship with some speed; something to make her feel invincible, conquerer of the world.

One night, she decided to take a car, not necessarily hers, and race it down a winding, curving mountain road at something over the speed limit, way over the speed limit.

That night, the road slick with rain from a storm earlier, she lost control,  and the car skidded, flipped and rolled down a steep embankment, killing her instantly.

Her mom was at her funeral along with a couple of others.  No one from the scene was there; I wasn't, still serving time in jail and having a long time to go before I would be released.

I didn't find Eddy or anyone. I found myself at Bullet's grave, kneeling, and began crying.  I hadn't cried in a long time and it felt good; the pain began to disappear from my body, as if the tears washed it away to be carried away by the rain.

It is a still a battle with my demon and it will continue to be a battle every day till the day I breath no longer. 

Every day passed sober and clean is a marker of accomplishment; something to be proud of, one step at a time, baby steps most of the time, but steps nonetheless as my sponsor tells me, and I'm beginning to believe him...