the people that saw weakness
879 Words
Drug addiction introduced Jessica to a different kind of darkness.
Not just substances.
Not just needles and smoke and sleepless nights.
People.
People who could smell weakness the way sharks smell blood in water.
When Jessica was young, she thought love meant someone staying beside you. She thought attention meant care. She thought people who said “I got you” actually meant it.
Addiction taught her otherwise.
There were people who entered her life pretending to help while quietly taking pieces of her away. Men who saw a broken teenage girl and recognized opportunity instead of pain. Men who used words like love while slowly destroying her.
One of her ex-boyfriends did something she still struggles to fully process even now.
He sold her.
Sold her body so he could get methamphetamine again.
Jessica doesn’t know where that man ended up in life, and truthfully, she doesn’t care. Some people leave scars too deep for forgiveness to ever reach. She hopes life gave him exactly what he deserved.
She was only fifteen years old.
The man she was sold to was forty-six.
Even over a decade later, certain memories still crawl back into her mind without warning. The stained mattress. The smell of the room. Dirty walls. The feeling of wanting to disappear from her own skin.
Jessica cried.
But it didn’t stop him.
That’s one of the hardest truths she’s ever had to carry: some people see tears and continue anyway.
To him, she wasn’t a child.
Wasn’t a human being.
Wasn’t scared.
She was just something to use.
Afterward, Jessica sat with a feeling she couldn’t explain at the time. Dirtiness. Shame. Disgust. Not just toward him — toward herself too, even though none of it should have belonged to her.
Trauma does that sometimes.
It convinces victims they participated in their own destruction.
Even now, years later, the thoughts still creep in during quiet moments.
Is that all I’m worth to men?
Is that all they see when they look at me?
To this day, she still doesn’t fully know how to answer that question.
There were other men during her addiction years too. Men who pretended to love her. Pretended to protect her. Pretended to care whether she lived or died.
One of them was Raymond.
At first, Raymond looked safe.
That’s what made him dangerous.
He smiled easily. Talked softly around her family. Knew exactly when to act charming and respectful. Good enough to fool even her parents into thinking he cared about her.
But behind closed doors lived another version of him.
A crueler version.
Angry. Manipulative. Addicted. Dangerous.
Raymond introduced Jessica to c***k cocaine. He pushed her deeper into drugs she once swore she’d never touch. Every boundary she still had left slowly disappeared around him.
Arguments became common.
Then fear became common.
Then abuse became normal.
A smack across the face here and there became his way of controlling her. His way of making sure she stayed obedient. Making sure she used again. Making sure she listened.
And tragically… it worked.
Jessica became scared of him.
Not just emotionally scared.
Terrified.
One night, after staying awake for four straight days on meth and c***k, Jessica and Raymond got into another argument. Her body was exhausted beyond human limits. Her thoughts barely made sense anymore. Her heart had been pushed too far for too long.
She stood beside a fish tank, ready to scream at him.
Then suddenly—
Everything went black.
Her body dropped instantly.
She nearly smashed her head off the fish stand beside her, but Raymond caught her before she hit it.
Jessica’s heart stopped.
She stopped breathing.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No yelling.
No fear.
No chaos.
Nothing.
Raymond gave her CPR and somehow brought her back to life.
When Jessica opened her eyes again, confused and weak, you’d think that would’ve been the end. You’d think almost dying would stop everything.
It didn’t.
Shortly after bringing her back, Raymond forced her to hit the c***k pipe again.
And she did.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she was broken down enough to obey.
Eventually, exhausted beyond words, Jessica finally looked at him and muttered:
“f**k you. I’m going to sleep.”
It took countless attempts to finally get Raymond out of her life.
Even calling the police didn’t save her.
One time, officers questioned her directly while Raymond stood nearby staring at her with cold, death-filled eyes. Jessica knew that look. She knew exactly what would happen if she told the truth.
If she spoke honestly, she’d pay for it later.
So she lied.
And the police left.
Just like that.
Eventually Raymond finally left her house for good.
But he didn’t leave her alone.
He lived only four houses away.
Jessica would see him watching from outside while she left home. Watching when she came back. Watching while she skateboarded near her street trying to feel normal again for even five minutes.
It felt like being hunted.
Home no longer felt safe.
Outside no longer felt safe.
Sleep no longer felt safe.
Jessica was surviving, but barely.
And somewhere underneath all the trauma, addiction, fear, and abuse…
the little girl from Chapter One was still trapped inside her, screaming to be saved.
- Writer
