My mind was a blank, except for focusing on how it was I could get away from what happened to me in that house. I couldn't go back into that house. But my thoughts were jumbled, incoherent. They didn't make much sense, even to myself. I didn't have a plan, I only knew that I have to get away. And yet...there was a vague memory in my brain. The memory that was in my cells of a euphoric sensation that I had never experienced before or since. The mental and physical pain that I was experiencing right then was excruciating, worse than anything that I had ever experienced. I was desperate to get back to that euphoria. The euphoria I was remembering was the feeling after Rochelle shot me up with all that heroin. That was what I needed right then. Euphoria. Which gave me a plan. I needed to find a drug house so that somebody could give me what I started to desperately crave. The voice inside my head was at top decibel now, telling me that I somehow deserved what just happened to me.
