It Will Ruin You Hannah's story - Heroin addiction - By Ashley and Athena

I am an idiot. I am a stupid idiot. It’s my fault that he’s dead. If we hadn’t fought, if I hadn’t gotten mad about him texting that girl then maybe… maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe.. I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe... I wouldn’t have turned to drugs. Maybe…

This all would be a dream…

My name is Hannah Harrowin, and this is my story.

It all started a couple months after Bret’s crash. I was on anti-depressants, prescribed by my doctor for the awful waves of depression that crashed down on me every time I thought of him. After a few weeks of taking them as usual I found they no longer seemed to help. Even though the walls of my mind were shielded by the foggy haze of drugs, the thought of him managed to slip through…

So I took more. 2, 3 doses extra a day - they didn’t help. Soon, I found, even though my body craved the medicine running through my veins, it was not enough - I needed more.

So I was off. I searched online for anything that could fix my need - something that a doctor can’t give me. Something that the love of two parents can’t fill. Something that would drown the boy that was viciously ripped from my life in a sea of meddled thoughts and drugged up words..

That’s when I found it.


I contacted an online drug dealer before deciding to meet him behind the drugstore of my town. There’s a small alley behind it, and I’ve seen people passing things back and forth before, so might as well do the same. I went at the right time, met him, passed money for the drug, syringe and needle and bam - that was the beginning of the end.

The drug worked like a charm - I took it once every day, maybe twice if he kept popping into my mind. I developed these, symptoms, of sorts. I always felt sleepy, I threw up every so often, and, when I was on it, I never felt like I was still in reality.. Like I was floating above the world, watching down on it without a care. It was strange.. I didn’t really like these symptoms but, I felt like I needed it…

Hiding this little secret of mine became increasingly harder to hide from my parents. My boss found out almost right away - I was fired instantly. Unable to tell my parents I was fired unless I told them about my drugs, with my money supply dwindling to almost nothing, I needed money, and fast. My symptoms were getting worse, and with drawl was kicking in. So I did what I thought was right:

I began to steal.

I quickly became a master at the walk-by pickpocket. Take a wallet, steal a purse, it all became second nature to me. Steal the money you need, buy the drugs, inject your fill, repeat. This became my life.

My symptoms became worse, my cravings became worse, and a large bump formed over where I stuck in the needle every day. Well, it wasn’t every day anymore. It was 2 or 3 times a day, one day I even had 7 doses. I was stealing and spending almost $1,000 dollars a week, my parents thought I was seriously ill, and all my friends had left me. It was getting bad.

Until one day, I collapsed.

I guess I took too much at a time, and blacked out, because when I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, my parents looking down at me in pity. I was forcefully withdrawn from the drug, my punishment being having to go through the withdrawls without an ounce of heroin to ween me. My parents wanted me clean, and fast. They were pissed. My time with heroin was over.

And I’m glad.

According to the doctors, I would have been dead if my parents had found me any later.

According to the doctors, I would be dead if I continued on the drug for more than a week.

It’s been 3 months.

According to the doctors, I would have been dead by now.

This is what heroin can do. It can kill. It can ruin people. Like it ruined me...

Will you let it ruin you?

Created By
Athena Ayala Ashley Fischer


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