She takes me high. Makes me feel alive—if that's what I am. She's intoxicating. And the Chemistry's definitely there. Since the day I met her, she's been working her way into my body, sending rushes through my nervous system that make me shout out loud, not caring who hears.
Part of her allure is that she's forbidden; I'm not supposed to indulge my desire for her.
But she makes me feel like what I have to say is the most important thing anyone has ever said. Like I'm the most powerful person in the world.
And she's always there. Until she's not.
But then I just text Mike and he hooks me up with her again.
What's she like, this miracle-worker? I hear you ask.
Well, she's snow white, but not quite pure and likes to come out at night. In powder form.
Yep, my name is Edward Cullen and I'm an addict. Coke. Not the favourite, all-American beverage, though that is good for sugar levels after a particularly heavy night with my real partner in pleasure: cocaine.
I don't know how it happened. They say it's who you hang around with. Your lifestyle.
I work for my father, Carlisle. We cut glass. My Grandma Esme always says that's work I could do with my jaw line, it's so handsomely sharp, a genetic feature she's sure I'm wasting since she doesn't have any Great Grandkids yet. I've got it pretty good; my parents are alright money-wise, I walked straight into the family business after school, which allows me my own bachelor pad along with other...luxuries. Just as well really, since I didn't get a lot in class.
What I did take from school, however, are my friends; I've kept a lot of the same ones. The old faithfuls. Or maybe it's just laziness. We would let off steam by going out to bars, especially when we first became legal, but more and more, it's becoming all house parties and stay-at-homes—well, we are getting older. A movie, some spoils and your sweetheart. Except in this case, the background movie is X-rated, the spoils are unlawful and there's often more than one sweetheart. And they're not that sweet. An adult's playground. Take tonight for instance.
It's my turn to host. My homeboys are sinking beers and taking lines off of the coffee table, to the sound tack of The Milk Is Evil—don't ask. I need to piss and have a cigarette— nothing like a smoke after a line— in that order, so I strip myself from the pack.
I take off upstairs to the toilet, but it's taken. For too long. I bang loudly on the door.
"Hey, come on man, I really gotta piss!"
Pricks!
I go to my bedroom to use the en suite. Sliding the door open, I take in the sight before me: Mike, my dealer, deep in some bitch who's sniffing stuff as he bangs away at her. Awesome.
Alright-al fresco it is.
I'm reduced to tinkling up a tree in my own back yard. I glance around and get a shock when I see the conservatory is illuminated; nobody ever goes in there...
My investigation takes me through the back door and the kitchen, to the conservatory doors. Bam! Only a transparent surface shaped at my own hands is between me and an ass, the shape of which I wouldn't mind adjusting ever so slightly and repeatedly with those same hands.
An ass like that means one thing: not too hot from the front. BOBFOC(Body Of Baywatch, Face Of Crimewatch) as the boys here would say. So maybe they are rubbing off on me a bit too much. I'd still like to rub off on that a lot.
Look, she's turning round! Run! No-too late!Oh...
...a good oh. The kind one might emit when the sudden sight of a person provokes a physical reaction in oneself usually reserved for that of small plastic bags. Nothing plastic about this girl. The face is actually amazing, all natural from what I can tell. Chestnut locks which look to be all hers frame it, falling down fragile arms that finish in hands adorned with gummy bracelets, but no manicured claws on the fingers. Hands that are pressing down the handle of the conservatory doors . And I'm going in...
"Hey, I'm Bella."
Short for Isabella. Classy.
"I'm sorry if I'm not supposed to be here. I had to take a break from... that." She akwardly points a thumb towards the origin of my little forays, clicking her tongue. She couldn't have given "that" much of a chance; I would have noticed her if she had. Unless I'm more mashed up than I thought...
"That's cool. I can understand that "
She nods.
"I was, er, admiring this work of art." She aims her thumb at the piano in the corner now.
"Yeah, I um, I used to play concerts and... shit"
"And shit?" She feigns disgust. She's funny. Girls are funny now?
"Well, I didn't play and shit— that would just be weird. I went to concerts, events..."
"What about now?"
"Yeah-what about now?" that voice that likes to visit me, usually late at night when I can't sleep, said. "You don't play now, do you? But then, you don't really do anything worthwhile now..."
"Could you play me something right now?" That was Bella, not the bullying voice.
Taken over by an odd need to please this girl I've just met effectively snooping round my house, I make my way to the seat at my instrument. I move my fingers across the keys till something resembling a slow tune of the singer on her T-shirt, an old singer I also like— her parents' influence too?— fills the room.
But it doesn't just fill that room; it fills the others, not even the trustee Cullen double glazing enough to prevent it. The horde is attracted by the novelty of hearing my music these days and the moment between Bella and I is brought to a halt before it even picks up steam.
The next time I see her in a capacity where I can talk to her, I'm handling a very different kind of instrument, dipping my head down to my sniffer so I can snort without having to roll up ten dollar notes.
"Nice" she says. "So you're really into all that?"
I bring my head back up. "I'm into having a good time..."
"Oh, so it's a social thing." She said it like I was one of those people who kids themselves that's true.
"Oh come on, you're not gonna drop numerous stories in my opinion of you by subscribing to that anti-drug shit are you?" I knew she had seemed too good to be true.
"See that right there. You're smart. And talented." The thumb was out again, pointed towards the conservatory. "And I guess you're kinda... cute"
"Cute?" I cringed.
"Well, you know—attractive"
I could work with attractive.
"Why waste that?"
"What, so you don't do any drugs?"
She shows me her cup of whatever she's drinking in answer. "And I'm partial to a Starbuck's macchiato and a sugar fix. Books, music, depends what you call a drug, but—"
"You don't even smoke anything?" The animal in me was thinking would you smoke my cock with those thick lips?
"Nothing"
"So, why are you here" She begged the question. Bella begging...
"Well, I came with Alice."
The girl Mike was with, wanking off, only with someone there?
"And Irina"
I'm pretty sure I've slept with her. She's the one with big tits who'll give you oral for one or two hits.
"I knew they liked to go a bit mad, but... anyway I won't be back."
Why did that make me a bit sad? Looks like the party's over for Isabella. I go back to my trustee sniffer.
Some days later, I'm staring at my reflection in the mirror. There's a trickle of blood moving down from my nose to my lip and the signs of irritation my eyes show reflects the irritation I feel on the inside. I'm irritated because of withdrawal, but there's something else. Thoughts of a girl with green eyes and pink lips are niggling at me almost as much as my need for my next fix. I feel like I'm cheating on my old faithful with Bella.
It's time. I make the call to Mike.
"Hey Mike"
"Cullen! Couldn't text? What can I do you for? A few of those dvds?" He uses our code speak when setting up a deal.
"Actually..."
"Well come on, Cullen. I haven't got all day!" A dealer's work is never done.
"I was wondering if you had that girl, Bella's number?"
Bella isn't as surprised as I expect to hear from me. We make small talk, then a date meet to have "sober fun". Fucking A.
The following weekend, I take a night off from the scene and dedicate it to Bella and her good, clean fun. We grab some food, then go to a fun fair, because, Bella says, it's impossible not to have fun at a funfair. Later, when she wins me a silly striped hat that looks like the one that that Dr Seuss character wears on the cover, she tells me it's also impossible to be unhappy in a silly hat. And I have to admit that so far, sober fun is sort of okay.
I win her a gold fish in return, but she insists I keep it, saying it'll be good for me to have something to be responsible for, to take care of. I can't tell her that I'd rather have someone like her to take care of, so I settle for "I don't think throwing some flakes into a tank is gonna have a huge impact on my life."
"Well, it's a start."
She takes me high. Makes me feel alive. That's what I am. She's intoxicating. Since the day we met, she's been working her way inside my body, sending rushes through my nervous system that make me shout out loud as I reach climax, not caring who hears.
"Holy shit! You sexy fucking bitch!" I freely indulge my desire for her.
Afterwards, during our pillow talk, before I black out like men do after emptying their balls, in that time frame when I'm prattling on, still on a high from our fucking, she makes me feel like what I have to say is the most important thing anyone has ever said. Like I'm the most powerful person in the world.
And she's always there. My miracle worker- snow white, pure and perfect in form.
My name is Edward Cullen and I'm an addict. Bella is my drug. We drink cocoa cola together when my blood sugar levels dip and then I'm usually up for another all-nighter with my partner in pleasure.
I don't know how it happened. It wasn't easy weaning myself off drugs. I had to change my whole lifestyle- who I went around with, where I went. I had to refill the whole in my life, not just with Bella, but with new interests, or renewed ones as the case may be. I'm back into my piano playing. I still work for my father. I live with Bella. Grandma Esme has more hope for those Great Grandkids these days. Damn, I've got it good. Bella and I liked to have stay-at-homes, with a movie, a nice bottle of wine and a big bag of chips. Hey-we're getting old! Though sometimes we do switch up the latest theatre to dvd release for something a little more...forbidden...
And nobody can tell me " Don't knock it till you've tried it". See, I've tasted the forbidden. Feasted on it for a while, some might say. But sometimes, the best things in life are not only free, they're legal and completely allowed.
And now for the serious part. I'm from the Russell Brand school of thought that addiction is not just a criminal issue; it's a health issue that needs to be treated with compassion. I wanted to time this with his Comic Relief charity gig for the cause, but I ran into laptop/life problems. But the message is still the same: If you or somebody you care about has a problem with addiction, there is help available, even if you don't have your own Bella. There are helplines/sites and groups, like TalktoFrank in the UK. This one goes out to all the great people we've lost through addiction and to all the people still fighting it x