Disclaimer - I do not own Criminal Minds. Wish I did, but I don't. I make no profit from this other than the kind words I hope to receive in praise. hint hint
I paced back and forth in my bedroom, stopping every few minutes and staring hard at myself in the mirror. I delved deep into my pocket, withdrawing a small golden coin. Three years. There had been moments of weakness, but overall, I had kicked my habit. That was why I was having such a hard time understanding what was going on in my head. I tried to rattle through numbers, facts, statistics, books, that I had stored in my memory, but all I could concentrate on was my extreme urge to find some pain killers. Dilaudid was my particular brand of poison back then, but at the moment I would take anything. I clawed at my own arms, itching and burning for something in my system.
Usually when I would go into a fit of cravings it was because I'd had a particularly bad case, usually if I had identified with an unsub, or had to kill someone. This night, however, nothing of importance had happened. I was just sitting, watching television, and started freaking out. It had been so long since I'd even had so much as a craving, I couldn't understand it. I hated not understanding things. That fact was almost worse than wanting the drugs. I sat down on the edge of my bed, my legs bouncing up and down rapidly.
I couldn't clear my head. All I could think about was getting something, anything, in my system. I picked up my cell phone, scrolling through the contacts one by one. Of course, I had far left that life in my past, and had no numbers of anyone who I could get anything from. I began chewing my nails, sweat was budding on my forehead.
"WHY?" I screamed into the empty space surrounding me. Nothing answered. Obviously. I'm not sure what I had expected, maybe I thought some higher power would shed some light on my world. So much for that. The room was void of life other than myself. I threw myself back on my bed, smacking myself in the forehead. I rubbed my eyes furiously, trying to regain control of my senses.
The room was blurring. My mind was pulsing faster than ever before. Memories flooded my skull. I just wanted everything to stop. I wanted my mind to be clear, at least as clear as possible for me. I always had something running through my overactive brain, usually several things. This time, however, it was only one. High. That was all I could think about. I wanted to be high. I wanted to be on another plane. Floating away from the ties of hate, evil, greed, death, abuse, psychosis. I just wanted to escape.
I tried hard to bring myself back down to Earth. I told myself I was a Federal agent, I had worked so hard to be where I was, and drugs were not worth throwing everything away. But there was this other part of me that screamed, YOU NEED IT! YOU WANT IT! And somehow, at that moment, I knew that it was right. My resolve broke, and I knew what I had to do if I ever wanted any form of peace. I grabbed my messenger bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed out.
I was nervous, jittery, as I walked down the dark streets of Quantico. As I walked, I told myself how stupid I was being. I repeated over and over that I was being a fool, that I needed to turn around, go home, and get over myself. My feet didn't listen, though. They continued their path to a dark alley. Cliché, huh? You would think in my line of work, and with my IQ, that I would be smarter than to go alone into a dark alley, after illegal substances.
The man, whose name I did not know, was leaning against the brick wall, one leg propped up. He knew my face when I approached him, it wasn't my first time dealing with him in particular.
"Hey." he gestured with a nod.
"Hey, uh, do you have..." I stammered over my words.
"Nah, I aint got what you used to get. I got some other stuff, though." I scratched my arm nervously.
"Uh, what's that?" He pulled a pouch from his pocket. It contained a fine, white powder. Cocaine. Probably about two-thousand dollars worth. It was completely different from what I was used to. At this point, however, I would take anything. I pulled forty dollars from my pocket.
"Aight, then." He said, pulling out another bag from his pocket and separating out a small amount. We made our exchange, and I made a hasty get-away.
Once I was back in the comfort of my own home, I poured some of the powder onto a book lying on my living room table. I had seen and read enough to know what to do. I grabbed a straw from my kitchen, separated a small line, and snorted it. It burned my nasal cavities, making my eyes water. Despite the fact that I had read and understood the effects of the drug, I wasn't sure what to expect. Hating myself for what I was doing, I laid back against the couch, covering my face with my hands. I breathed deep, in and out, waiting for something to happen.
After a few minutes of waiting, everything sped up. My knees started bouncing of their own accord, and the thoughts that normal penetrated my life raced through my brain. Numbers, images, words, all blazing through my mind in a way I had never experienced. I jumped to my feet and frantically searched through my desk, grabbing a spiral notebook and some pens. I curled into the corner of my couch, scribbling the thousands of thoughts that were flashing behind my eyes.
A/N – Hope you like it so far. It's an idea that I've been tossing around for a minute. Actually one of four that I narrowed down thanks to the help of a good friend.
