*Warning, this story is meant to show the perspective of the youth addicted to drugs and how to them drugs are happiness, this is not meant to support drugs*

         My eyes burn with such a sensation from the lack of sleep I had last night. Not wanting to wake up but the sound of my alarm is too annoying to just ignore it and go back to sleep. I didn’t even get to finish the English essay I was working on last night before I was knocked out. I’m not even sure if it's worth finishing since it was due two months ago. But my English teacher was nice enough to allow me to turn it in for the majority of credit. She knows that if I don’t pass this class I might not graduate. It doesn’t really matter since I’m already failing all of my other classes. The stress is aching at my head just thinking about it.

        I get up and start changing. I can’t even have a peaceful morning, because as soon as I’m about to turn my doorknob I can hear them. I can hear my step dad yelling and yelling, and my mom doing nothing but taking it in. You can hear the sounds of the beer bottles being opened even though it's barely 7 am, and the staticky t.v. that doesnt even work in the background. Immediately the smell of cigarettes start to fill up the hallway reaching my room. Intoxicating everything. I settle my backpack back down and I open up the window. The usual routine. 

        My life wasn’t always like this. I used to be the happiest kid on the block. That all changed as soon as my mom married my step dad. He’s an alcoholic, and abusive. His fists and mine aren’t strangers. My mom wont do anything. Which hurts me the most. Sometimes I feel like I just can’t anymore. There's nothing more that I’d wish for than escaping, escaping this family, escaping this home, escaping this reality. 

        I go downstairs, I try to speed walk my way through as fast as I can, so I can have the least interaction with them as possible. As soon as I reach the front door my plans are torn apart as soon as I hear him yell my name with as much force as he can. “MICHAEL!” Chills shiver down my spine, making all of the hairs on my body stand up. 

My step dad comes out of the living room, a beer dangling from his hand. His eyebrows arched from his angry facial expression. His chest puffed out, as a sign of dominance. I already know what’s coming, a fight. As to why, I'm not sure. He takes any reason to pick a fight with me. Like a middle school bully. My step dad is tall, 6’2, he tries to use it to his advantage, to try and intimidate me. It usually worked, each time we’ve physically fought, I would only be able to defend myself. He’d usually win or we’d be tied. But I’ve grown a lot recently, being 6’0. I’m tired of taking his slack. So, I do the same. I puff out my chest, I stand up straight, put my shoulders back, and lift my head a little bit. 

“The house is a mess! You never do anything. Always stuck up in your room, with that, I don’t have a problem with, But I’m still nice enough to let you live here, and yet you’re clearly not grateful, ” he sneered. 

Red. That’s all I could see, red. Before I knew it, I lifted up my fist and swung as fast and as hard as I could. I’m tired of him, I'm tired of how he treats my mom and I. I'm tired of it all. I can feel my ears getting hot, my fists full of adrenaline as I swing punch after punch. From the corner of my eye I can see my mother standing on the side. Pain written all over her face, and yet she just stood there smoking her cigarette, doing nothing. I don’t stop, not until I hear the beer bottle hit the floor, shattering. And I hear his body thud to the floor. 

I stand there. Not knowing what to do, my mind is all over the place, confused. And yet all I know for certain is that my body is still craving the adrenaline it had a few seconds ago. I’m woken up from my thoughts as I hear my step dad groan in pain, still lying down on the ground. At this point he's bleeding from his lip and nose. Nothing he hasn’t done to me. I grab my bag and open the door. 

I don’t want to come back, not now, not ever. I take the first step out of the house expecting to feel my chest get lighter, but it doesn’t. It feels tight, and heavy. I guess although I was able to escape my reality for a few minutes, it didn’t change the fact that this is still my situation. I wander and wander around. There's no place for me. There hasn’t been. 

As I’m passing by a corner store, I see in the back street a group of men gathered around. One of them yells at me, “Hey kid!” I turn to look and it’s a man waving a bag of pills in my direction. This is how it starts, how all the kids in this town get addicted. It’s how my step dad became addicted. It’s how my mom got addicted. I’m not sure. I'm not sure whether I should go back home, ignore them, or buy something. They’re drugs. They’re bad. Right? Or can they take me somewhere else? Somewhere far away. An escape. 

I bought whatever was cheapest. It was a small bag with two red pills. I’m not even sure what type it is. I go to a nearby trail and find a viewpoint. I can see the whole town, my house, everything. Every bit of it brings back bad memories. 1, 2, 3. I shove the pills in my mouth and gulp down some water. I stare off into the distance hoping to feel some type of comfort, some type of escape. 

And there it is. My mind releases it all, my muscles relax, my eyes get droopy, and my breathing relaxes. This is it. This is all I’ve wanted. It feels so much better than what I imagined. Instantly every emotion, every thought disappears into an abyss of peace. This is my escape.