I sit in my car trying to find the courage to open the door. As I roll my fingers over each other, I will my hands to stop shaking. My eyes stretch towards the glove box, knowing that the remedy to my pain was just inches away. I just couldn't force myself to toss the rest of my stash. As I look out my window, I feel the urge to vomit.

Jesus Cari, get a grip I think to myself. As I rest my head on my steering wheel, I begin to think of Charlie. My most precious friend. Had it not been for him, I don't know where I would be. Probably dead my conscious snarled. Charlie had always been my rock. After the abuse I suffered at the hands of my step father, I spun out of control. Charlie some how pulled me out of the darkness. He had never been like me, a fuck up. He has done well. Away, at a great college while I'm giving everything I can not to rip off my glove compartment door. He still comes to visit me, every now and again. I think mostly out of fear of finding me dead. But those visits, however short they may be, mean everything to me. The last visit is the reason I am where I am. Outside an addict support group.

"You cant do this to me Cari" Charlie sobbed into my chest.

I looked at him and it was as if he had changed in the two months he had been away at school. He seemed taller, with a little more muscle tone. His chestnut hair had glimmers of read and gold. I gazed into his chocolate eyes, and they looked swollen. My heart sank as I realized I was breaking his heart. Had we not been friends since kindergarten, and if he wasn't as dear as a brother to me, I would be smitten; as most women are.

He tightened his hold around my torso as he wept.

"God, how strung out are you?" he hissed at me.

Feeling a stab in the gut I retort "how is that any of your god damn business?!"

As I attempted to pull away from him, he tighten his grip until he was crushing me. "I'm sorry," he muffled into my shoulder. I was so high that if he would have given any slack on his grip, I would have fallen over. I guess he knew that because as he pulled away he kept his hand on the small of my back for support. He grabbed my arm and ran his eyes down it following the dark lines. I pulled it out of his grip and yanked on my sleeve willing it to be longer.

"I've been gone two months and you're doing heroin again?" he squeaked out.

"It's the only way.." I slurred, "to not feel it."

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took a sharp breath. "I have leave for school in an hour," he sighed. "I don't know if I can leave you like this Cari."

"I can't bring you down with me Charlie, I'll be fine" I lied.

He grabbed me and held me until it was time for him to leave. He grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around me tight. "I'll be back before ya know it Bennet," he whispered. And then he gave me an almost too long kiss on my fore head. I closed my eyes until I heard the door close, suppressing tears.

I grabbed my kit, originally a make up bag that had now turned into a place to keep my stash, and turned it over in my hands. I knew the pain of his absence would vanish if I just hit one more time. I rubbed my finger on the pink outline of the kit. I opened it up and pulled the bent spoon. I did the normal ritual and then spent a good 3 minutes trying to find a good vein. As soon as I did, I succumbed to the darkness.

After many phone calls with Charlie, I finally agreed to attend a meeting. He found the time and place and all I have to do was make an appearance. It has been 3 days since I have taken a hit and sitting outside of this building, I'm really starting to doubt my decision. I finally muster up the courage to grab the handle to get out of the car. I grab my bag and drag it across the seat, and take one last look in the mirror. For having withdraws, I looked surprisingly well. My hair is shiny and my long blond curls are flowing down my back. I have dark circles, but I had put some blush on to bring color to my greying face. With one last look into my blood-shot eyes, I step out of the car.

It feels so cold, even though it must be 75 degrees out. I walk up the side-walk to the front of a brick building. I swing open the door and I am instantly blinded. The entire room is painted with the brightest white of walls. All of the furniture is white. The only things that aren't is the concrete floor and the people inhabiting the white furniture. If someone wasn't sober, being in this room would definitely pull you out your high. Everyone is sitting in a circle fashion. All eyes turn to me and I feel sick. I keep my eyes on the concrete as I make my way to the closest available seat. After what seems forever, someone speaks up.

I look up to see a broad-shouldered man with dark skin. His hair is black and choppy, and his face is scarred up. Even through the scars however, he is very handsome. His brown eyes are warm and gentle. "Hello all, I see some new faces tonight so I'm going to introduce myself. I'm Benny and I'm your group counselor. I am an addict. I hope to help each one of your open up about your addictions and speak freely about any personal experiences which trigger abuse. Let's go around and introduce ourselves."

People take turns saying their names and speaking of their addictions. Then I realize it's my turn. All eyes on me.

"My name is Cari—Caroline but everyone calls me Cari. I am an addict. I'm addicted to heroin. I've been addicted to heroin off and on for 3 years now. I've been clean for 3 days." I mumble as I pinch the skin on my hands. "I'm 22 years old and I was raised in Kansas City, and I moved to New York about 6 years ago." I bite my lip as I finish. The whole group says in unison "Hello Cari." And then they move on to the next.

After two people take their turns, I notice the sweetest voice. I look up to find that the man who owns it looks even more appetizing. He has light skin, and piercing green eyes. His blond hair is unkempt and it spills just the right way onto his face. His plump lips and pointy nose square out his perfect symmetry. I look at his hands and I see they're trembling.

"My name is Grant. I am an alcoholic and an addict. My drug of choice is gin and Xanax. I've been an addict for 7 years-" he doesn't look old enough I think to myself "- and I've been clean for 2 days. As you all know I am 28 years old, and I live here in New York." He sounds as if he is comfortable here and has been coming for a while.

As he finishes we our eyes meet. I instantly drop them, but look up a moment later to see a small smile on his face while his eyes bore into me. After everyone has finished their introductions, Benny asks if anyone would like to speak. A few hands are raised and they take turns talking about their struggles. Listening to people talk about using, makes me want to use. I pick at my hands for what seems an eternity.

"Okay, times up for today!" Benny chimes in. I don't know how he can sound so damn cheery right now because all I want to do is go to my car and take the biggest hit of my life. As I stand up I see my reflection in the glass door. I've gotten even more slender over the last couple of months, but mostly in my legs and waist. My hips, bottom, and chest are still as curvy as ever. My dark denim jeans pair nicely with my white lacy shirt. If it weren't for the signs of being an addict, I could actually be pretty.

I begin to push the door open when a warm hand grasps my shoulder. I turn around and meet those huge emerald eyes. Its him.