Christiane's body, stricken by the vile stuff, was tormented by inhuman pain. And the whole body was corroded by a terrible desire to get a dose. However, she either did not know this, or did not think about it, but most likely, she simply did not consider taking care of her health to be something important and vital. For a long time, the veins in the elbow bends were for her just conduits of high into the depths of the body.

Does it make sense to become a hostage to the bad desires of your body, which, having tasted the forbidden fruit once, demands more and more, like a capricious spoiled child? Did Christiane think about this when she firmly believed that if she hit, the hellish pain would pass, it would be overshadowed by the unique excellent high that she experienced every time the drug was poured into her blood through a thin needle?

The pleasure, so wonderful, so dubious, did not last as long as wanted.

Pain flooded mind. It's unbearably painful, unbearably scary. Uncontrollable panic seized over and over again, bordering on the desire to call you, to hear your voice, to understand that you are still alive, awaits her. But a short phone conversation will give her strength only for a couple of moments.

You're waiting, but does it make a sense?

"Hey.." She says softly through the phone, hearing your voice in response. The pain didn't seem to go away, it just moved inside, closer to the heart, enveloping her in the bonds of fear, panic and despair.

Maybe Christiane F. will return to her old life. Maybe she will find you. Maybe her sanity will return. It's amazing how much maybe in her life. But will it be?