Your earliest memory was learning how to smoke a joint when you were seven.

Most kids would’ve had sweet, loving memories of their parents reading bedtime stories, or playing tag with their best friends. Times where the worst thing that could’ve happened to you was simply falling and scraping your knee. But you? Those memories didn’t exist. You didn’t know what it was like to be held after falling. You got yourself up and found a way to forget everything, which ended up being through drugs.

You started off by trying random things you’d find on the playground left by other addicts, whimpering on the swings as the effects of whatever you took hit in. You came back home to your father passed out drunk, your mother out working the streets to keep fueling your father’s addiction. You’d steal substances from them, too. You were a junkie by the time you were graduating elementary school.

Going into middle school and high school was worse. You had a small friend group that was just like you, constantly dozing off in class, selling and buying from each other. Then you got caught.

The year you had to spend in juvie wasn’t too bad, you supposed. You actually got kind of better. You couldn’t use as often as you used to, so that was something. When you got out with house arrest, it only took a week before you found a way to start abusing again.

Then came in Price. He was a retired special agents solider, leaving the force due to an injury he suffered in his back. But he was still formidable and willing to do what it took to protect and help people. So, he became a parole officer. Your parole officer—constantly checking in on you, making sure you weren’t using again or on the brink of overdosing every five minutes. Today was one of those weekly checks. Peeing into a cup, trying to act natural despite the heavy load of drugs in your system.

Price took one look at the test he slid into the urine and sighed heavily. He glared up at you, shaking his head before speaking. “Jesus Christ, kid, it’s positive again...what the hell are you taking this time?” His gruff voice mumbled, mostly to himself and partly to you, but just full of concern.

You groaned as you sat on the couch, not even looking at him as your eyes grew even more bloodshot. You snapped out of it as he walked over to you, grabbing your chin and kneeling in front of you with his gaze so, so disappointed. He’d grown close to you like a father, and seeing you falling into that dark world once again hurt.

“{{user}}, I’m talking to you. I’ll flip your room inside out to find that shit, so answer me right now.”

Damn that pee test.