Chapter 1 I can’t remember if the drugs were numbing my body or if I was still too high to know, let alone care. My mouth was open, and I lay with my face flat on a greasy carpet. A puddle of something sticky, sour and foul tasting had cooled against my lips, yet my mouth was dry. I must have been sick, but because I hadn’t eaten for three days, all my stomach could muster was a fetid cocktail of vodka and bile. Slowly I stood, although it felt like melting, but upwards. My brain received distorted information from my senses and in turn, it sent out confused impulses to my motor skills. It appeared to be daytime, but had no idea as to what time, on which day, and hadn’t a clue where I was. Outside of the window was a drizzling mist. Through it, there was an unmistakable sprawl of run-down council flats, and I could only guess that I was in one too. Somehow I knew it was London, and from so high up I expected to see some familiar landmark. But I didn’t recognize anything. Shit! How far from home was I? Stuck in the walls around the window were syringes, lots of them. There was a doorway leading out of the room. I made my way towards it. Once there, I stumbled and was grateful for the support of the walls. My balance was fucked and uneven. In the first room I came to, there was a strong smell of dog. The room was empty except for a dressing table with some empty glass jars on it. There were some black garbage bags full of clothes on a cement floor, and a smear of what looked like blood all the way across one of the painfully bright yellow walls. Down the hall further, I came to another room, which looked even less inviting. There was a mattress on the floor surrounded by household trash with what looked like a person under the blankets. So, I went in.