6. The Italian Job

So yeah, Italy… as amazing as it was, I felt lonely a lot of the time, having nothing else but what I brought with me, and him. As the frequency of ‘visiting’ men continued, Philippe now sometimes left, leaving me alone with this man with only one thing on his mind. From the little I understood from things said, I slowly I understood what I had gotten myself into; a pedophile ring that contacted each other online and were using me for their own pleasures. But I couldn’t blame Philippe,  as he was just trying to make ends meet. Knowing this drained me, I slept less and less and I got sick a lot. I now thing that me being sick was a way to get Philippe’s care and attention and to avoid having sex with others, and this worked for a time, until Philippe grew impatient and got me ‘special medication’ to get me on my feet again.

I must say it absolutely worked, as it made the world a lot less careless and interesting. It also calmed my frayed nerves and kept back my anger attacks, though it did make me a little more unstable. As I got better, I found I was shaking, confused, disoriented, and prone to screaming and aggressive fits. I discovered what he had given me were small doses of crack cocaine, and though I knew  it was bad, I was also craving for the almost meditative silence it held. As it helped me cope and deal with the situation, I accepted it as ‘a wrong thing for a good reason’ and from that point I did just about anything to get what I needed, which basically meant more clients.

And from ingesting it came snorting it, and not long after needling it. And though I was dead inside, I didn’t care anymore, not unless I didn’t have any, and when I did I imagined myself in a better place, a place I felt safe and wanted, a place I had never known but had always wished for. Without it, life as hell, but when on medication, it was absolute bliss.


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