It constricted so fast. You could see the decent. 

Like a worm poking its head out from under a rock, then quickly back in only exposing the opening of a tiny hole footprinted in the dirt, small dark engulfing he was in his world, and me in mine. 

How easy it was for him to go there. How welcoming and safe it felt. Every emotion was validated. Every need is met. In those moments, he was ok. It was once he ventured out, that the climax of what he had done touched him. 

Staring him, the face it was sheer terror. Bone thin. Sunken eyes. Gray color. He was in the grasp of addiction, and I could not save him. I couldn’t compete with what heroin could offer. I was no match for the absolute acceptance it could give. And yet I fought and would fight relentlessly.

Giving up was never an option except to give up myself. 

But it never worked out that way. I gave up, but he never gave back. He took and took until I was as lost in my world as he was his. Only his world was heroin accepted heaven, and mine was a self-sabotaging hell.

The present-day escaped him, but I lived every moment. I was hostage to this new world, and I didn’t know it then, but it would be decades before I knew the extent of this mind-altering existence we were both pulled in.

In one way, he was lucky he could stay warm and safe in the arms of Mister H. I was left outside the window looking in, and I was fully aware and could feel every stab of his sword. 

His grip tightening I could feel I’m suffocating. Under the weight of his hold!!