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Once
By Owen Goldsmith, age 12

Nobody knows who I am. nobody cares. There is the high class, the middle class, the low class and the rejects.those who have been thrown in the wastepaper bin of life and cannot escape.it wasn't all like this though.I was once just an ordinary kid.

It all started when I went to a party at my mate's house. Life wasn't going too bad for me, we had money, we had a decent home but something was still missing. I didn't know what it was at that point so I started to try and fill it up with other things, for example, like alcohol. But after a while I learnt that this wasn't what I wanted, yes, it had cheered me up at the time but it didn't work in the long run, I needed something more powerful, I just didn't know what it was yet.

Anyway, I was talking to my friend about me being a bit pessimistic and depressed and I asked her why she was always so happy, "Jen" she said to me, "I want you to meet a friend of mine, I cant tell you about him here but he can help you, he may look a bit crazy but try it, he will help you out."

When Tash first said this I didn't think anything of it. Maybe he had a type of therapy that relaxes you down or something like that. Tash arranged for me to meet him down the park. I stood there waiting while the wind nipped at my ankles like dogs and rain pattered on the gravel floor, sounding like footsteps coming closer and closer. It felt as If I was standing in a horror movie and the main character was just waiting, helpless, to become victim. Suddenly I spotted him, standing next to a bedraggled bench in a long, dark brown overcoat. His face was tattered and looked like it needed a shave and his eyes were glazed over and not with it. His eyes passed over to me and then stopped. They pierced right into me and I suddenly wanted to run. I had a feeling that what was going to happen wouldn't help me in anyway at all, but in-fact make it worse.

I was too deep in and I knew that I couldn't run now. I had to see what he could offer me. I wandered over to him and spoke to him in a nervous and shaky voice, not my usual self. "W.wh.what can you offer me?" He handed me a brown envelope and whispered something to me that was so quiet I couldn't hear what he had said. It sounded like something a doctor would prescribe to you. I looked at the envelope and then looked back up. He was gone, walking briskly away from me along the path. The rain beat faster upon the ground and I started to get wet so I rushed back to my flat, the questions I wanted to ask still burning the tip of my tongue. Later that evening I opened the, slightly soggy, brown envelope and peered cautiously inside. As my eyes passed over the top of the envelope I saw a waterproof bag inside. I pulled it out and examined the contents. Inside was a sort of powder. Suddenly it hit me what he had given me, that was the reason he had run away from me. He had said methyl3-benzoyloxy-8-methyl-8-azabicyclo octane-4-carboxylate=cocaine. My first reaction was to throw it out the window; I wished I had never met with that guy at all. But after a while of thinking it began to not seem too bad. Why not try it out? Loads of other kids had and nothing had happened to them. It seemed that even Tash had taken some and she was always being told be our gym instructor that she was very fit and healthy. Ill just try it once I thought to myself, but now I wish that I hadn't tried it at all. Even one time is too much. That one time wont stay as just one for long but I didn't know this yet.
I left it on my bedside table for a few days but it seemed to be burning a hole in my head. Every time I did anything it shot right back to my mind and started to burn away, until I couldn't take it any longer. I went for it. I picked up the sachet, poured some of the powder out into my hand and took it. Suddenly everything went fuzzy. It seemed like everything I saw had a border around it. An intense tingling ran right up my body. From my toes to the tip of my ears I felt numb. I collapsed on the floor smiling like a maniac and arching my back in sheer enjoyment. All of my problems were gone, blown away by the numbness, and then came the after affects. A headache racked and rattled my skull. I lay on the floor for what seemed hours. Trying to figure out what the hell had happened. It was the most intense, scary yet fun experience ever.

As soon as I had tried it I knew I was addicted. Every night I would have spine tingling nightmares, in which the man that sold me the drug was following me in the shadows. Wherever I was he would be hiding away from eyeshot, but out of the corner of my eye I could see him lurking behind every shadow. What else didn't help was that my problems came flooding back but 10 times worse. The thing that I felt was missing had been cured by the drug but now the drug was gone I knew I couldn't live without more. A battle went on inside me. Part of me said get more and part of me said keep well away from it now, but deep down I knew which side was winning. I knew I had to have more.

Next morning I went out to look for the man who had given it to me. I hadn't eaten in 2 days. I kept on trying to eat but every time my body told me that the only thing that would suffice was the cocaine. I finally found the guy in the exact same spot as before. It was as if he knew I was coming and was waiting for me. "p.please give me more!!" He shook his head and uttered one word, "money" I looked at him and fell to my knees. "NNOOOOO!!!! PLEASE!!!! I NEED IT!!!!" I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed like a baby. "I cant 'elp ya." His voice was muffled and sounded like he was a serious smoker.or druggie. "Go nick sum stuff from sum old lady. Do what ya want but I cant elp ya. Just get the dosh, £50." He then walked away. I lay there sobbing for a while. If only I could see how stupid I looked. Humbled to tears by sheer want of drugs, if anybody ever thinks its cool then think again. I walked sombrely back to my apartment and thought about what to do about it. I needed the money. Suddenly something that he had said earlier that hadn't registered through the tears. I was going to brake in to a house, nick some stuff and sell it. I'd have enough money in no time. Well that's what I thought anyway.

I searched through a toolbox that I borrowed from my neighbour, Bob. I found a harsh, slightly twisted, crow bar, tucked it under my coat (it was raining) and set of. I glanced at my watch as I left the house. 12:37. I would easily be home by 1:00. The sky was dark and all of the streetlights down our street were just turning off. Perfect.

I walked a few blocks away from my house so they couldn't track back (and so I didn't break in the house of anyone I knew by accident) I picked my house carefully. I checked all of the lights were off so that they would be asleep and sure none of the neighbours were awake either. I walked over to the house I had picked and ripped the window out from its frame, it was perfect; the house was really old so it was very easy to break into. As I climbed through the window I slipped and came crashing down upon a shelf of pans. The old shelf collapsed with a crack and all of the pans harshly smashed into the floor. The noise could have woken a dead man. Lights came on and I heard footsteps on the stairs. Suddenly my worst nightmare came true and a tall, rough looking man walked into the kitchen with a baseball bat in his hand, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!!!! IM CALLING THE POLICE" I stayed there shivering in fear on the floor. I was going to prison. All because of a stupid obsession. I had taken the choice of taking the drug. I had taken the wrong choice and now I was going to prison. I shouldn't have tried it. No-body should try it. Not even once.