The tramp

It was a cold, winter night and the snow was covering the skyline like a crisp, white blanket. People were hurrying to do their last minute Christmas shopping as they flocked to the shops like ants on some honey.

All of them had their big, warm coats on soft, woolly hats. I however was not like them. I didn’t have any family to buy presents for.

I didn’t have any money to but them full stop! All I would do all day was walk up ad down the streets to keep myself from freezing over like a lolly. If I was lucky I might get some money of some passing stranger but not very often.These days people are so self centred and do not care about anyone or anything else, this is why the world is like it is with all the wars and such. Anyway my story begins in an unused room in the local travel inn. I woke up suddenly, looking around desperately trying to make sense of my surroundings. I wiped the sweat of my brow with my old, worn sleeve.

What had I done last night? I pondered, and who on earth did I get here! I scrambled up to my feet, my heart racing for some unknown reason. I tripped into the bathroom narrowly missing the door frame. I looked in the mirror and saw a monster looking back.His hair, not growing even like a normal person’s hair but more in tufts on random places on his sweaty head. That monster was me. I had many scars on my face from a number of fights, to many to name. My teeth were the worst.

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I had very few teeth left but the ones I did have were black and yellow. After reflecting on my personal looks I splashed some water on my face and walked out of the bathroom picked up my coat and climbed out the window. After a few hours of walking around I began to feel the cold wrapping around me and that all too familiar feeling that occurs when I haven’t had a good shot in a while.You see I am a heroine addict. I have been hooked on the stuff since I was only a little nipper.

I had two older brothers which are the ones that introduced me to the nasty, mind-warping drug. At the age of 15 I had been excluded from three different schools and my mum just gave up. She spend most of her money on rehab and other things that were meant to stop me from wanting this drug so bad I would betray my best friends for it. At the age of 17 I had left home and now was wandering the streets on my own looking for anyway of making that money that I needed so desperately for drugs. A bit later on disaster struck.I had become so paranoid and unpredictable that I would do anything for some of that sweet, sweet heroin; I would even take someone’s life. I went do to see my dealer about some heroin but he refused to give me some.

I was in a state of anger. I grabbed a bottle that was next to me and cracked him across the top of the head. With the bottle now broken I began stabbing him with it over and over all the time screaming “you should have given me a refill”. I shook my head trying to push back the memories that had been burned into my head. I continued to walk through the lovely white snow. I could hear it crunching under my old, worn out boots.After ten minutes it was becoming to much for me to handle, I was becoming weak like an injured animal desperately trying to survive the wounds inflicted in me. I began stumbling about looking desperately for anyone who was selling but no one was.

I felt my heart being pushed together like it was being crushed by two metal slabs. I began to collapse onto the floor crawling on my knees determined to get some needles. By this time I had attracted quite a crowd. People were gasping, taking leaps beck to avoid my hands flying about. Then all I remember was the light fading and me going into eternal darkness.