Long pale fingers were clutching at the needle with precision. Gone were the beginner days when the tourniquet was needed to find his veins, it was as though he consisted merely of skin and bone- all his veins blatantly sticking out of the world to see. It was obvious to all how much he had changed since the first shoot up, back as a young secondary school student.
The teenager he had been had wasted away in the few years that had followed. He'd always been slender yet now the small amount of flesh on him had vanished. The well cared for dark curls he'd always been rather vein about were gone leaving greasy limp curls. His well dressed suits had gradually been exchanged for t shirts and jeans alongside the one remaining suit jacket that remained with him.
He'd always lived as a posh child ever since he'd been born, he'd been smothered and given anything he desired, from money to the latest consoles. Yet despite all of it he'd remained silent and alone, denying any physical contact. Up until his eighth birthday he'd never spoken until that day when he'd began to speak in full sentences. His parent's had nothing to do with the upraising of their second son, he was left with the comfort of his brother who was his elder by seven years, Nanny's and countless amounts of psychiatrists. They all ended up coming to roughly the same diagnosis for the strange boy, Autism.
He faced intense bullying throughout primary school and leading into secondary. However when the taunts got worse, the meltdowns increased in numbers, he ended up turning to the only thing he could find-drugs. In year eight he first tried it, halfway through the year he spent a span of time in rehab.
In that summer he took all the money he could, alongside his violin, change of clothes and all of his medication he had and ran away from home. He was thirteen and a homeless drug addict. After three years on the streets, during his sixteenth year of life, he stumbled onto a crime scene high and met the recently promoted Detective Inspector Lestrade.
