A/N: Hey there! This is a story based on true events. I really hope you like it, R&R please and thanks.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or themes, they belong to Stephanie Meyers.
Summary: A/U, Bella has had a hard life, and turned to drugs and alcohol at a young age. What happens when a sweet, but mysterious drug dealer sweeps her off her feet? - Deeper than it sounds.
Warning: This is a strictly M rated story, extreme drug descriptions and sexual scenes inside.
I took a deep breath, and prepared myself to do what I've been doing for the past 2 years of my life. I cleared my thoughts, when all of a sudden my dearest friend Angela looks at me and whispered, "Bella! Hurry up with the bong. It's Jessica's hit." My friends were oh so impatient. See to me, smoking weed is more than just a simple thing. I love the form of smoking weed, it's an art form to me. The spark of the lighter, the filling blast of the smoke, and the satisfying exhale that was sure to come after your pull. It's all what I live for, and I can't imagine my life without it.
Angela and Jessica were both staring at me now, waiting for me to finish my turn with the bong. I grabbed my hot pink Bic lighter, lit the flame, and held the fire into the bowl of my bong. The flame twisted and danced as I smoked the entire bowl of weed, before the marijuana finally pulled through the tube, ending in a loud popping noise as the oxygen refilled the chamber. I held the smoke in my lungs of a few seconds, inhaled twice, then let out a long and thick stream of pot smoke. I felt the high hit me, and all I could think was, 'Damn, this shit isn't that bad'. I handed the bong back to Angela, and watched them load the bowl with fresh weed for Jessica.
My name is Bella. I'm 16 years old, and I have been smoking weed every single day of my life since I was 14. I have been smoking cigarettes since I was 15. I have been getting drunk every weekend since I was 12. But don't think of me as a bad person, because I never planned on my life being like this. Actually, I was anti-drugs for most of my life.
When I was 8, I found out that my older brother Chris started smoking weed. He was 12 at the time, just getting into grade 7. He came home telling my parents that some older boys at the park by our house had forced him to smoke weed, and that he felt scared. Now that I look bad on it, I think he was a wimp. Not only a wimp, but a liar. Chris became a pothead. He got kicked out of the high school I go to when he was 15. My parents were ashamed of Chris. They felt like they were failures as parents, but they saw me as a beacon of hope. I was the good child, the perfect little girl. My mom and I were always closer than close, and I was daddy's little angel. Chris even thought I was the good kid, he told me if I ever smoked weed that he would "kick my ass," you know brothers. He really cared about keeping me pure.
I thought drugs were disgusting, especially weed. When Chris was 16, and I was 12, he started snorting coke. He got addicted, and ended up owing a large coke dealer over a thousand dollars from cocaine. I saw him rip his life apart, and I never wanted that for myself. I believed in god, I went to school, and the thought of cigarettes was just repulsive.
So, how is it I am the way I am now? What happened to make me such a bad kid? It all started the summer of ninth grade, when I was 14. During the summer, my dad Charlie takes me, Chris, and whatever friends we want to come, to our cottage every weekend. This particular summer, I would always bring my best friend Angela. Chris would bring his girlfriend of the week. Every weekend of that summer, Chris, Angela, and I would get really drunk. I was never against drinking, but I never realised how much one bad decision could change your life.
One night, Angela and I started drinking with Chris. By the time we were really wasted, Angela and I decided to take a walk. We walked down to the dock of the cottage, and sat on the edge of the dock looking at the night stars. We gossips, laughed, and just had fun. Randomly, Angela pulled out her pack of smokes. Angela had always smoked cigarettes, but I never thought about smoking them myself. She was just as drunk as me, and offered me a smoke. I thought, hell why not? So I took the smoke and tried it out. It wasn't that horrible, but that might have been because of how drunk I was. Taking that cigarette was the worst choice of my life, because it made so much more of a change in me then I ever thought imaginable.
Ever since I tried that smoke, I had a lot of guilt over it. That, just wasn't me. It was always a dream of mine to be able to say that I had never done drugs, or smoked once in my life. I wanted to be able to say that on my death bed. Now if I said that, I was a liar. It really hit me hard. I told myself it was just a mistake I made when I was drunk, and that it would never happen again. That was until the day my life as I knew it, ended.
July 15th. The day 2 years ago, that I decided to first smoke weed. A few close girlfriends came to me looking for weed. I told them I could get them it, but I didn't smoke weed. They said they just wanted to hang out, and I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to. That was fine with me, so I went to Chris looking for weed for my friends. He was a little suspicious, because if I smoked weed, it would break his heart. But, he gave me the weed that my friends paid for, and I gave it to them.
They took me out to a forest, where they looked confused about what to do. None of them were regulars at smoking weed, and were unsure about where to start. I on one hand, knew exactly how to smoke weed. I had watched Chris do it for years, and I knew all the tricks about weed. I took out the pot, and put it in a paper. I took scissors, and I began to bust up the bud. When it was all evenly grinded up, I loaded the weed into the bowl of my friends' homemade bong, and they started smoking the weed. They kept asking me why I didn't smoke weed, and eventually I ran out of answers to give them.
I thought, what is so great about weed? Why is it people want to smoke this stuff so bad? Is it really worth all the trouble people put themselves through? So, I wanted to try it. The way I saw it, if I liked it enough to continue smoking it, it must be worth it. But if I didn't like it, I would never worry about it again. Just once right? So I smoked the weed. After a while, I was high. I don't know how much it was, because at that point I wasn't too familiar with sizes.
The high, was amazing. All pain in my body was gone, everything I felt stress about in life, had melted away. I finally, understood. Weed really was worth all the trouble, it's amazing. I wanted this feeling forever. The drugs just filled the void in everything wrong with my life. I mean, at this point didn't want to become a stoner. I didn't want to be one of those gross slut girls that hang out with older boys in the back of the school, smoking and doing drugs at school. That seemed too weird to me. But I did, love the drugs.
For the rest of the summer, I got high about once or twice a week. I would hang out with my friends Angela and Jessica, and we would smoke weed a lot. We would laugh, joke, mess around, or sometimes just chill. No matter what, we always had fun when we were high. Soon enough, smoking weed once or twice a week turned into smoking weed every other day.
By the end of the summer, I was an everyday weed smoker. Grade 10 started, and instead of hanging out with my good friends and going to class every day, I hung around the back of the school in the smoker's pit. All my friends were new, and they all smoked weed with me every day. Soon, all my money went to the drug. Along with the drug, I picked up a tobacco addiction. My lunch money, went to weed. On the weekends, I would buy a pack of smokes and more weed.
My name is Bella. I'm 16 years old, and I have been smoking weed every single day of my life since I was 14. I have been smoking cigarettes since I was 15. I have been getting drunk every weekend since I was 12, and this is my life.
SWED life.
A/N: I hope this made sence to everyone! Long and confusing first chapter, I had to include everything from the past so that the present makes sense to you. Basically, ^ this is a true story. It's the story of my life, and I'm mainly writing this because I think it's a good idea to talk about it.
So please read and review. Love it? Let me know. Hate it? Let me know. Want to talk? Private message me. Questions about drugs and/or addictions? Ask me.
PS: For those who don't know what SWED stands for, it means Smoke-Weed-Every-Day. SWED.