Makayla Sapienza What If

What If Makayla Sapienza

Skylar sat on the edge of the dock, her toes tickled by the warm waves gently crashing against her. Her phone sitting on a towel next to her played the top country hits playlist while she fished. She carefully pulled a plastic bag from her tackle box, a tiny clear bag with little blue pills in it. Plopping one in her mouth and taking a swig of Gatorade, she laid back on the dock and let the sun soak into her skin. The back of her head started to tingle as she started coming up. A fish nibbled at her line, but she just held on to the pole to make sure it stayed out of the lake. Her skin tingled as a wave of warmth flowed through her. High as a kite, she sat there and enjoyed the euphoric feeling of an oxycodone high. She reeled in her line and set her pole next to her, carefully wrapping up the hook so she wouldn’t accidentally step on it. Placing the towel closer to the edge, she scooted off the dock and dipped into the warm water. Living on a rather shallow lake has its perks, one being that the water is usually very warm. The water came up to her hips, encasing her legs in the warmth. She grabbed her innertube and rope, tying one end to the dock and the other to the tube, and jumped up on top of it. Floating on the gentle waves was so intensely relaxing it was almost overwhelming. Between the music and the water, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

She woke up to raindrops pounding on her body. The sky had gone dark with heavy clouds, and the wind whipped her long blonde hair into her face as she sat up and started to pull herself back in with the rope. Panic surged through her body as she realized this was about to be a bad storm. Grabbing her stuff, she sprinted up the hill and headed inside her house. She left her fishing pole and innertube on the floor in the living room and headed towards the bathroom to wash the lake water off herself. The hot water of the shower revived her senses. She could feel her body relax as she slid down the shower wall and sat on the floor. She got out and wrapped herself in a towel and walked to her room. She thought about home and how her family was doing. It had been months since she talked to them, and even longer since she last saw them. She missed her mom and brother and sister and wished she could see them. She left because her father didn’t want her to go to college; he wanted her to stay home until she got married then pop out a bunch of babies and be a housewife the rest of her life. She wanted to get married and have kids someday; she just wanted to be a social worker first. He disagreed with her plan and kicked her out the day she started classes. She moved into a rundown apartment with her friend, who got her to start smoking marijuana. Once she graduated, she moved to South Carolina, chasing a warmer climate than the icy winters of Wisconsin. That same friend suggested using Oxycodone to numb the pain of losing her family, and gave her a goodie bag before she left, starting a weekend habit. Heading back into the living room, she grabbed the baggie of pills from her tackle box and popped another in her mouth. She didn’t want to miss her home

anymore, she just wanted to feel happy. She headed back to her bed and connected a speaker to her phone. Country music blared through the room and she leaned against her headboard. She opened Facebook and started scrolling through, but she wasn’t really reading any posts. She was off in her own world, her breathing unconsciously synchronized with the music. Her heart fluttered and the world seemed to be floating, bending and jiggling like Jell-O. She’d never been so high before, and almost in slow motion she laid down on her side and shut her eyes in an attempt to make the spinning stop. Six hours later she awoke to her alarm clock blaring in her ear. She slapped the snooze button and slowly sat up. Monday mornings were the worst, she actually had to get up and be an adult. No more drugs until Friday night. Well, at least no more oxycodone until then, but weed was still an option. She sat out on her back porch, watching the sun rise over the lake, enjoying the beauty of her yard as she pulled out her bong from a container she had sitting next to the door. Taking a seat on the bench, she packed a bowl and smoked, feeling the marijuana burn her lungs. She leaned back and exhaled, letting the smoke leave her body. Heading back inside, she jumped in the shower and washed the skunk smell out of her hair. Taking a fresh towel and wiping off the water from her body. She put deodorant on and started to blow dry her hair. She applied some light makeup and headed out the door. Work proved to be busy as usual. Being a social worker is no small feat. She spent her morning at a desk, filling out paperwork and updating case files. In the afternoon, she went all around town and did the in-home sessions with her clients. By eight o’clock she was heading into her car, ready to go home for the night. Once she got home, she smoked again, then curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee and went over her notes from her sessions. The McPherson family was ready to graduate from her services. After a year of hard, intense work, they were finally ready to function as a family. The Johnson’s were moving through the steps of their program nicely, with a few bumps along the way, but progress was being made. Then there was the Peterson’s, new clients who just started to set their goals and define their program. Her caseload was pretty light compared to normal. She kept her in-home clients at a minimum so she could meet with clients in her office more. She felt it was more important for the clients to talk their issues out with her individually and in a group setting than it was for her to come to their home. Her notes started to blur together on the page. The notepad seemed to be floating in her lap, making it a challenge to copy the notes into her computer. Her fingers drifted across the keyboard, slowly typing, her mind trying to focus on the words, but the haze of the weed made it difficult. She turned on the T.V. and put her favorite medical drama on and clicked to her favorite episode for background noise. She loved the feeling of being high. There was nothing quite like it, feeling so relaxed and calm. Her client’s problems faded from her mind, the worry and care that she felt escaped her mind. The constant pressure from her boss to get clients through the program quickly and use as minimal resources as possible, the stress to actually help them grow stronger as a family unit. It was a lot for her to take, but she loved the job.

The rest of the week was spent with the same routine, wake up, smoke, head to work, come home and smoke again. When Friday night rolled around, she hit up her plug for more oxy. Once she scored, she headed home and put on some trap music and crushed up the pills into a thin white line. Crouched down over the coffee table, she held a straw in her nose and snorted the powder. Minutes later she felt so incredibly high she could barely walk. She laid on the couch and listened to the music throb through her body. She cranked up the surround sound system and let the bass fill her soul. A few hours into her high she snorted another line and let it hit her like a ton of bricks. Euphoria washed over her, and she started to laugh hysterically. “What a great day this is to be Skylar Grace!” She stood up slowly and started to gently sway around the room to the music. Bumping into the coffee table and nearly spilling the last of her stash, she looked at it with disappointment. “I’ve only got one more line left out of the stash that was supposed to last all weekend. I should just go out and get more.” She sent her dealer text and eventually found the way to her car. She sat in the driver's seat and started the car, setting her phone down in the cupholder. She drove out to their usual meeting spot, a gas station just outside of town. She drove slowly, about ten miles under the speed limit, and her head was on a swivel the entire trip. Her ‘weekend habit’ had been going on for months now, and the amount at each use had gone up dramatically since she first started. “Hey bud, how are you tonight?” She waltzed up to him, trying to be as casual as possible. A month of this and she still hadn’t figured out how to not be nervous around a drug dealer, even though she was a frequent flyer herself. The oxycodone was better than weed, albeit more dangerous, it helped her forget about her past. “Long time no see. I ran out of pills earlier today, but I’ve got some in an injectable.” He pulled out a brown paper bag with four syringes, a vial of the drug, and four clean needles. She hesitated, but only for a quick second, then she handed over the money and headed home for another blast. The anticipation grew inside of her as she walked through the front door. The coffee table was her brewery; she sat the syringes down and got some alcohol swabs for her arm. She Googled “safe injections” and spent a good ten minutes digging through articles to find one that was easy for her altered brain to understand. After shooting up she immediately crashed on the couch. Her body felt like it was glued to the couch. She felt pure bliss, and she started laughing over how perfect this high was. She blasted music and felt the waves of euphoria wash over her. I should go on a walk by the lake! She slipped a jacket on and tied her shoes. The cool night air felt good on her hot skin. She itched her arms as the tingling sensation got stronger. The water was still with the moon perfectly reflecting on it. It looked like she could just walk out on the water and touch the moon. She stepped out onto her dock and walked to the edge, staring up at the stars, wishing she could touch them. They looked so close to her, like she could just jump out and touch them. Knowing better than to jump in the lake, she sat down and pulled her shoes off, dipping her toes in the water.

An electrical shock jolted through her legs and up into her spine, making her gasp with pleasure. The coolness of the lake and air was the polar opposite of her body. She stood out from the ecosystem around her. Heat radiated off of her skin, and she leaned her head back and exhaled. Suddenly she pitched forward, her muscles refusing to hold her up, and she dove headfirst into the water. Darkness was all she could see. On top of the lake was the moon, yet under the water was nothing but cold, empty, darkness. She tried to swim but her legs couldn’t move for some reason. I can touch the bottom here, why can’t I touch it now?She started to panic. I should be able to touch on my dock why can’t I now. She felt herself get dizzy and felt her body slip into the darkness completely. Bright white lights blared in her eyes. She scrunched them up and tried to turn her head, but there was something keeping her from doing that. She could very faintly hear a beeping noise from somewhere above her head. She tried to pick her arm up but failed to, there was something holding her down. People moved all around her, poking her with needles and hooking her up to machines. Her lips felt cold, and she suddenly realized that she was shivering. She sat up and was immediately pushed back down by a nurse. She tried to open her mouth to speak but couldn’t and started to fight against the nurse to try to get up. Commotion ensued around her, but she couldn’t hear through the phase. Suddenly, the blackness sucked her up once again. She woke up again in a different room, the lights much softer on her bleary eyes. She was under multiple blankets, and when she moved to stretch, she noticed an IV in her arm. How did I get here?She looked around and saw a ‘call nurse’ button next to the bed. She hit it, and shortly after a woman in scrubs walked in. “Hi Skylar, my name is Kelly, what can I help you with?” “I’m just confused. How did I get here, where are we, and why am I hooked up to an IV?” She was a tad bit annoyed at her memory gap. “You are at St Joseph Hospital. Let me get the doctor, he can explain why you’re here.” She stepped out and shut the door behind her. The last thing Skylar remembered was laying down on the couch. There was a foggy glimpse of her getting even higher with an injection, but she couldn’t remember anything after that. This time when the door opened, a man walked in. “Hello Skylar, my name is Dr. Hunt.” He shook her hand and stood next to her bed. “You came in last night via ambulance with a suspected overdose. You fell into the lake off of your neighbor's dock. Good thing he was out night-fishing, or else you probably would be dead. You had a good amount of water in your lungs when you got here, but we got it all out and have you on antibiotics to keep away infection.” She nodded. Her neighbor was in a deeper part of the lake, which made sense why she couldn’t touch. “Can you tell me what you were on?” She looked down and wrapped her fingers around the seams of her gown. “None of your business. When can I be discharged?” “I highly advise you to stay; we’ve got a great in house rehab program that has a few spots available if you would like to go.” He pulled a few pamphlets from his lab coat pocket, but she shook her head.

“I do not need rehab; I am not an addict. Now can you please discharge me if there is no medical reason to keep me here.” “Well I do need to keep you for another chest x-ray to make sure your lungs are okay, but if that’s all clear I will discharge you.” He left the room and Skylar looked at the papers in her lap. Smiling faces, beautiful rooms, luscious gardens and recreational activities starred back at her from the different rehab facilities. I don’t need rehab;I do not have a problem. I just took too much. If I hadn’t left the house, I’d be fine right now.” She was discharged around noon on Saturday and headed home to recuperate. She felt weaker than normal. The walk up her porch was much more taxing on her lungs than usual. She decided against doing more oxy until later in the evening, so she headed out back to smoke. Careful to not spill any weed, she packed a huge bowl and smoked it, nearly throwing up from coughing so hard. Once she came back inside, she curled up on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and relaxed. The high was not nearly as intense as she wished it would be, but regardless she enjoyed mindlessly watching reality TV shows about big and fancy weddings. She decided to order some Mexican food from a local place and get it delivered just in time for her next blast of her weekend drug. She tied a shoelace around her bicep and flicked her wrist a few times to get the vein to pop. She washed her arm off and carefully plunged the needle into her vein and injected the substance into her. She got up from the couch and opened the curtains, letting in the last bits of daylight into her home. The sun felt nice on her skin and she laid in front of the window like a lizard in the desert, soaking up as much of the warmth as possible. She started to laugh hysterically and rolled onto her back, laughing at her luck. She drove high as a kite and didn’t crash; she possibly overdosed and almost drowned but lived. God sure has a sick sense of humor, she thought. She felt herself come into the familiar high, embracing the itchiness and shallow breathing. She slowly slipped into a familiar sleepy state, staring at the ceiling fan spin. When the doorbell rang, she slowly peeled herself up from the floor and opened it to find her food sitting on the little table next to the door. She applauded her sober self for ordering such good food, and immediately dug into her feast. I could make this food taste even better if I got even higher. She walked outside to the back porch but was met with a disappointing sight; she was out of weed. Her only other option being more oxy, she headed back inside for another blast. Tying the shoelace around her arm for the second time that night, she prepared herself for another injection. The needle pierced her skin and she pushed the plunger down, letting the addictive drug in her system again. She cleaned up her arm and untied the shoelace, then sat on the couch. She was extremely high. Her whole body was tingling, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She tried to sit up but couldn’t command her muscles to work. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she felt like her throat was closing up. Darkness closed in on her, her eyes still trying to follow the ceiling fan above.

***************************************************************** *************************** Skylar sat on the edge of the dock, her toes tickled by the warm waves gently crashing against her. Her phone sitting on a towel next to her played the top country hits playlist while she fished. She carefully pulled a plastic bag from her tackle box, a tiny clear bag with little blue pills in it. She turned the bag over in her hand, playing through all that could go wrong with these tiny pills. She could overdose, she could drive high and risk a wreck, she could nearly drown herself. Without hesitation, Skylar turned the bag over and dumped the pills in the lake, vowing to never touch the ‘weekend drug’ again.