My first chapter...came to me as an inspiration for my blog at first, then I thought why not write a whole story about it.

Be kind though. I have not written anything in quite a while.

I hope you enjoy it, and hopefully more chapters will soon follow!

Chp 1: Former Human Being

Life was not treating him well.
For as long as he remembers, all life gave him was bullshit.
Nothing of what childhood had promised him.
Nothing at all.

His family abandoned him. They were embarrassed of him, disappointed, because he turned out to be the total opposite of what they expected, and they are mainly to blame.
In his childhood, all the books and TV programmes told him that he will have many friends when he grows up, a good job, money, a family, life and love.

Now thinking back on all those thoughts, he laughs bitterly.
The only few friends he has use him for the drugs and money.
The 'job' he had, if one can really call it that, cost him his life, metaphorically, and also almost literally a couple of times.
The money he earned, the blood money, was almost all lost, and luckily he found two barrels still full in the car he escaped in, 'What luck!'.
His real family, his mother and father, gave up on him years ago. His little brother was still growing up, and he feared that his parents might ruin him as well, seeing that at such a young age, he had already been doing soft drugs.. His aunt, the only one that accepted him for who he really is, was in a better place now, after she lost the battle with cancer a few years back.
Life was taken from him, he was a prisoner of society.
And love...the only two girls he ever loved, or so he thinks, both died. Because of him.
Jane. He and Jane dreamed big, he believed that there could still be a better life waiting for him when he was with Jane. She was bad influence, but still she gave him hope. She introduced him to heroin, something he had never tried before, and had intended not to. The drug that killed her, in his bed. He blames himself for her death because he was the one who had tempted her into taking drugs once again. He was out cold when she overdosed. He could not do anything to save her. All he could do was stare at her dead body in the morning, smelling the vomit on her, thinking it was just a nightmare or a bad high. But it wasn't.
Andrea. He had met her at the meetings. She was a recovering drug addict, and yet he tried to sell her some crystal. He then grew close to her, too close. She was a sweet girl, a good mum also. She was too nice, and he could not expose her to the dangers his life had brought with it. He had to leave her, to protect her, but they still got to her. He saw them shooting her in the head from the car, and he could do nothing to save her either. Her son was now all alone as well, bound to live a life motherless and miserable. And it was all his fault.

So much had happened to him, in such a short time span. He managed to escape hell, but now he was in a wholly new different type of hell. One where he doesn't know where he belongs, where he is going and who he really is.

All he really knows is that he is Jesse. Jesse Pinkman. Former son. Former brother. Former nephew. Former student. Former friend. Former lover. Former junky. Former meth cook. Former drug dealer. Former killer. Former human being.