48 Hours

TW: Drug use.

Jessie stared at herself in the mirror.

Horror.

All she felt was sheer horror at what she saw staring back at her.

There was no way this was her. It couldn't be. She refused to believe it.

And yet...there she was.

Awake, still, 48 hours later.

She smelled the sweat dampen her pits, her genitals, and no matter how much she wiped, it would not be enough to wipe away the stench of a 48 hour meth binge.

Her face was dry with dehydration, eyes wide, nose red. Small bumps appeared on her skin. Her mouth was cracked and dry, further signifying her dehydration.

Her eyes were brimmed with a wicked red, blood vessels begging Jessie to please put down the straw and go to bed.

Well, after drinking water and actually eating something.

Jessie's temples throbbed with an angry headache, pulsating a plea to please let them rest throughout her head.

She had thought she could handle it when she started snorting speed a year ago, but she had never actually looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Never saw what others saw after a binge.

And that's when her reflection took her on a journey of self-reflection.

Back to her wicked and wily ex, the one who used this stuff to manipulate Jessie into remaining in an unhealthy, toxic relationship with him for far too long.

She was convinced he was the devil.

His eyes would dance with delight with each line she snorted, each burn of her nostrils, knowing she was further ensnared in his villainous web of lies.

But she had danced with the devil, knowing exactly the risk she was taking. No, she could not blame him entirely.

Jessie inhaled sharply and moved her hand to her face, hoping that somehow, the reflection would not mimic this movement, giving her a sense of relief that this stranger in the mirror was not her.

But unfortunately, she had no such luck.

Her hand ran slowly down her face as Jessie was forced to feel for the first time, the consequences of her actions on her skin.

Dry, angry lines on a face that was once creamy, soft, young.

She opened her mouth and gasped.

Yellow teeth snarled angrily, yelling at her through a wicked grin of neglect where once white proud teeth stood.

That's when it happened.

Jessie stared at her reflection and untangled the web of events that led her from straight A college student to this moment where the shell of herself stared at her in the dirty mirror of some guy's apartment.

Like a freight train, Jessie had a sudden realization.

A frightening, but all-too-real realization.

Her tolerance had grown.

A year ago, one line would suffice for 13 hours.

Now, she was snorting a 60 bag a day, barely feeling the same sense of speediness and mania that she felt in the beginning.

The bells of actualization rang in her head.

This was it.

This was an addiction.

And for the first time, Jessie knew she had spiraled out of control and in the process, lost her family, friends, her scholarship.

But now she was awake.

Awake with the realization that she had a real problem.

Awake knowing that this wasn't the girl she wanted to be.

Awake with the admittance that she could not do it alone and needed help.

She took a few more deep breaths to ready herself for the next step she was about to take, forcing herself to remain in heavy eye contact with herself in the mirror.

Jessie tiptoed out of the bathroom, not wanting to face the stranger who had spent the past 48 hours with, not even remembering his name. She shuddered at the things she had done with him, with the others, all blurred together in her mind in a giant speed binge.

She hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until she exhaled upon seeing her new friend had crashed onto the bed, asleep, after 48 hours.

A giant pile of unwashed clothes lay in the corner of his room and on the very top, Jessie spotted her black and white hoodie. She quickly grabbed it, disgusted that this was what she had allowed herself to become.

Next to the pile of musty clothes, Jessie grabbed her backpack and proceeded to quietly make her way back to the bathroom.

She admonished herself for not leaving the apartment, but their was something sobering about her reflection, something horrific, yet real that pushed her to make the decision she was about to make. Seeing herself stare back at her the way she did, this stranger, this disgusting version of herself she was not proud of, made Jessie brave.

Maybe it was a mixture of delirium, paranoia, and bravery from lack of sleep for 2 days, but Jessie knew that this was not the life she wanted to lead anymore.

She readied herself and so as not to give herself a chance to back out, took out the phone from the pocket of her hoodie and with a speed that did not give her a chance to think and with no hesitation, dialed her emergency contact #1.

It rang once. Her heart pounded.

She feared she would be ignored, but hope blossomed in her body as the second ring came with an answer,

"Jessie?"

"Mom? Yes, it's me. I...I need help. I'm ready now."

Crying on the other end of the phone as her mother stammered, asking for an address, assuring her oldest daughter that she will be alright and that they will get through this together. In the background, Jessie heard the voices of her younger siblings, her father, and the rest of her family as they pronounced cries of love, hope, and encouragement Jessie's way.

As Jessie gave her mother the address of the apartment, she whispered, "thank you" to her reflection, smiled at the wake up call she needed staring back at her, and walked silently out of the apartment, ready to start anew with her family by her side.