Chapter Eighteen
Sapphire
So now that I’m feeling a little better, J suggested that I write down everything that happened to me last week, so I would remember how close I took myself to the edge…
After I got back from J’s mansion Friday night, I smoked a rock and lay back in my bed for my fifteen minutes of ecstasy, my brain firing on all cylinders. I know you probably think I’m a bad girl and I’m not denying that I am, but at least I’ve never used a needle, never shot coke or injected heroin. See my arms? No needle marks. I know some dope addicts who do it, and I would too, but there’s one thing that scares me: AIDS. I know addicts who’ve died of it. I’ve seen the horrible red sores on their skin, before they cashed it in. So I draw the line with needles and only smoke crack on the wee
