The Intervention

One day, I walked into the club, and the owners and the staff met me at the door, and told me that I couldn't come into the club anymore. The weren't having a junkie in their inner circle. I guess they just didn't have any experience with the whole heroin thing, and didn't know what else to do. I also knew a lot of well known bands that came through the club, and a lot of drug business that happened there as a result, and who was doing it...and in their minds, I had become a danger and a threat, especially with what I knew...and because of their belief that a junkie always makes deals with the police, if  busted. I was crushed. It was apparent that my trauma over the murders had been totally  forgotten...or never even considered. This was my family, and my only friends...and I felt completely abandoned. They knew me (or I thought they did)...well enough to know that I would never have sold any of them out. I know they were scared...for me and for themselves...but it didn't change the fact that the only place left for me now was on the street, with other street junkies...there was nobody else that would have anything to do with me. I lived on the streets and hung out in any place I could...constantly dope-sick, and desperate. I lived like that for about two months, and it was one of the darkest periods of my life. One day, I was picked up by a friend, while walking down the street, and was driven to a house about ten miles out of town. I was then told that every one of my old friends had decided that they had to take action, so they were locking me in a house, under 24 hour a day guard...(they all took turns being "on duty") and they were going to force me to get clean... cold turkey. For the next 18 days, I shook, shivered, sweated, tossed and turned, cried, and literally went in and out of consciousness, while the 'guards' sat in the next room, smoking up hundreds of dollars worth of my best pot, and had themselves a three week party. I can only remember a couple of times when anyone even came in to check on me, and that was usually a quick look in, and then they'd go back to the party. After 18 days, I was awake, and because I seemed OK to them, they finally let me leave. All I knew was...that I hadn't slept in nearly three weeks...so as soon as I was out of there, and got back to my car...I immediately scored some dope...and finally, finally...I was able to get to sleep.